DISCOVERER OF HUDSON BAY AND EXPLORER
OF THE MAGNIFICENT RIVER
WHICH BEARS HIS NAME

(15??-1611)

WE had been plowing along over the great Atlantic on a clear and starlit night. The Mauretania was as steady as a pier in the East River, so we were expecting no disaster, yet, when we tumbled from our cots upon the day following, we were startled to see that the great, steel hulk had ceased to move with her accustomed vigor. The resounding poom, poom, of her giant propeller-shaft was no longer heard, and she was only just drifting along through the gray-green waters. Every now and again her massive fog-whistle would roar out its leonine warning:

“O-o-o-o-o-m! O-o-o-o-o-m!”

We stumbled to the deck, only to be chilled and dampened by a shroud of mist, which had shut down upon our steel-clad home like a giant pall. It curled, rolled and settled upon us as if it were a blanket saturated with dank sea-water; it cut off the view, so that one peered at the swishing ocean in vain; and it benumbed one, so that one’s voice was stifled and choked, as if a huge overpowering hand were grasping at one’s throat. And even from above came that soul-deadening roar of the steam siren:

“O-o-o-o-o-m! O-o-o-o-o-m!”

In the blinding mist I bumped into a sailor.

“Avast there, my lad,” said he. “Can’t you get your sea legs?”

“No,” I replied. “Where are we?”

“Off the banks.”

“And the fog?”

“Usual thing. She’ll burn off in a couple of hours. We have to go easy because of the Gloucester fishing fleet. Hear them!”

Indistinctly, in the murky pall, I seemed to hear the thin whining of numberless, tin fish-horns.

“Pretty weak fog-whistles, aren’t they?”

I laughed.

But just then something happened.

The mist seemed to part as if rent by a strong and virile hand. We could see the great, combing, green billows go careening and bobbing by, as the cloud-bank shifted like a veil, and there, tossing restlessly on the waves, was a long, brown boat! A number of men were in her, all huddled together in a heap. They were dressed in old-fashioned garments and their faces were drawn, haggard, pinched. In the stern sat a bearded man holding fast to the tiller, at his feet lay a slender youth.

The vista lasted but for a moment or two and then the fog-bank rolled in again, hiding the picture from our startled, yet eager visions.

“Who are they?” asked I, breathlessly, as the sailor lurched against my side.

“Henry Hudson and his crew,” he answered, with a hoarse chuckle.

And as I stumbled below, I thought that perhaps the weather-beaten sea-dog might be correct.

If you had happened to be sitting upon the beach of Manhattan Island, near the spot where is now the Battery, upon the eleventh day of September, 1609, you would have seen a curiously shaped vessel floating, lazing, along near the shore, and you would have also seen a number of weather-scarred navigators who were anxiously peering at the beach. The name of this boat, with a high poop and a curving prow, was the Half Moon, and her captain was Henry Hudson, or Hendrick Hudson, as he is sometimes called.

He was not only pleased, but also interested to see a land where was a goodly lot of timber, lovely islands and broad harbors, pearly beaches and dusky-bodied inhabitants, who seemed to be peacefully inclined.

And who was this fellow Henry, who had dared to come to explore that island of Manhattan, where the mighty Woolworth Building was to rise up in all its splendor, as if to laugh at the former simplicity and quiet of the brush-covered strip of sandy soil?

Of the early history of the bold mariner hardly anything is known. He was a native of England, a contemporary and friend of the famous Captain John Smith, the settler of Virginia, and, like him, was a professional navigator and intrepid adventurer. He resided in London, was married, and had a son, to whom he was devotedly attached.

When Hudson was living in London, there were a great many merchants there who were anxious to learn of a northern and westward route to the East Indies, from which they imported teas, spices, and many other articles. The commerce of this country was now brought partly over land and then floated through the Mediterranean Sea. It was a slow and laborious route for trade, so those nations farthest removed from the advantages of that route (such as Spain, Portugal, and England), became restless, and most desirous of finding a new and a shorter passage to the East Indies.

In the year 1499, a celebrated Portuguese navigator, called Vasca de Gama, had doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and, passing onward, had appeared upon the coast of Hindustan. He had brought back word of the southern route, but it was such a long and dangerous passage, that the nations of Europe were not satisfied with it. They desired a shorter highway to the wealth of the East, and began to think that they might find it by sailing through the Arctic Ocean, and, passing northwestwardly around the coast of North America, might journey around the shore of Asia to the Indies with their marvelous wealth.

A number of rich men who lived in the city of London joined themselves together as a London Company in the year 1607, and raised sufficient money to purchase a ship and supply it with provisions for a journey to the northwest. Knowing that everything depended upon the skill of the commander, they chose, as their leader, Henry Hudson, who readily accepted the position.

Upon a bright day in April, the Captain and crew went to the church of Saint Ethelburge in Bishopsgate Street, and there received the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. There were eleven seamen in all, among whom was John Hudson, son of the daring sea captain. It was a pious and beautiful custom of those ancient times for seamen to thus act before entrusting themselves to the mercy of the seas, where they were to meet with unknown perils.

Strange as it may seem to us now, the object of this voyage was to find a passage directly across the North Pole to Japan and China. Imagine these brave fellows setting out in one of the small vessels of those days to sail to the Pole! It seems absurd, for, even with a vessel specially constructed to meet the ice packs, Commodore Peary had great difficulty in keeping his vessel, the Roosevelt, from being crushed. Yet, with their flimsy craft, these adventurers started out in quest of the much-desired North West passage.

On May 1st. 1607, the navigators weighed anchor at Gravesend, and, taking a northerly course, in twenty-six days reached the Shetland Isles. Leaving these wild, rocky shores behind them, they now steered northwest, and, in a week’s time, although they discovered no land, they had the satisfaction of seeing six or seven whales near the ship. Two days later, at 2 o’clock upon a foggy morning, land was seen ahead of them. It was high, covered with snow, and, at the top, it looked reddish; underneath a blackish color, with much ice lying about. There were also great quantities of ducks and other wild-fowl along the coast, and a whale spouted near the shore. This was the peninsula of Greenland.

Thick fogs now shut down upon the mariners, accompanied by storms of rain and of snow. The vessel was sometimes driven before a heavy gale of wind; at other times becalmed. Yet, in spite of this, Hudson still held on in a northeasterly course, hoping to sail around the land in front of him and thus to reach the passage across the North Pole. At last, discouraged at his slow progress, he determined to steer in an easterly direction, hoping to find an island which was called Newland upon the charts.

After sailing about sixteen miles, the ship came within sight of land and many birds were seen flying over it with black and white stomachs, and in form like a duck. Fogs again set in and much floating ice was encountered, yet the vessel was headed onward in a northeasterly direction. Land was seen at different intervals and the weather was both temperate and pleasant. So, again steering eastward, the ship struggled on against hard winds and heavy fogs until it had reached the coast of Spitzbergen.

Great numbers of whales were playing around in a bay which they ran into, and, while one of the men was amusing himself with a hook and a line overboard, in order to try for a bite, one of the monster fish dove under the vessel and caught upon his line. All the sailors feared that they would be upset, but the big, black fellow made off without doing them any serious damage.

“By God’s mercy,” says Hudson, in his diary, “we had no harm but the loss of the hook and three parts of the line.”

After sailing along the coast for some time, again the mariner headed for Greenland, hoping to steer around it, towards the north, and then return to England. But fogs, storms, and floating ice interfered with his journey, to such an extent, that he was forced to turn around and head for the place from which he had started.

Thus, after a hard voyage of four months and a half, he sailed up the river Thames, beaten in his effort to find the North West passage, yet with the news of many lands which no Englishman had yet seen. His employers greeted him warmly and were sufficiently well pleased with his success to trust him with a second adventure, for he had been farther north than any navigator who had preceded him, and had opened the commerce of the whale fishery to his countrymen. He was also the re-discoverer of Spitzbergen, which had first been seen by one William Barentz, a Dutch navigator, in the year 1596.

Spring had no sooner opened, in the year following, than Hudson commenced making his preparations for a second voyage. This time he was to endeavor to seek the passage for the East Indies by passing between Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla. Thus, with a crew of fifteen persons, and his son John, he set sail from London on the twenty-second day of April, heading north, where lay the region of ice and snow.

At one time the vessel would meet large quantities of drift-wood driving by in a confused mass; then large numbers of whales and porpoises would be met with, and the sea would be covered with multitudes of birds. Then again the mariners would come across numbers of seals lying about upon cakes of ice, and polar bears would lumber away over the glistening ice-pack. Two of the sailors, also, said that they saw a mermaid close to the side of the ship, but a big wave came along and overturned her. As she went down into the surging brine they saw her tail, which was similar to the tail of a porpoise, and was speckled like a mackerel.

After sighting land, and exploring numberless bays and harbors, Hudson finally reached a great sound, into which emptied a stream. The vessel was anchored, and five men were sent forward in a boat to explore this river, in order to see whether or not the water-course dipped to the south and led to a passage through to Asia. But the water became very shallow, as the explorers proceeded, so they came back and reported that the vessel could not venture farther upon its way. As the provisions were now getting somewhat low, Hudson decided to steer for England. This he did, entering the peaceful Thames, after an absence of about four months. He was not received with the same cordiality which had greeted him after his first voyage. His employers had grown discouraged by these two unsuccessful attempts to find a shorter route to Asia.

The members of the London Company, in fact, refused to lend any more money or supplies to Mr. Henry Hudson, so that gallant gentleman took a jaunt to Holland in order to offer his services to the Dutch East India Company. His fame had preceded him, and he was greeted with cordial respect. A small ship was given to him called the Half Moon, and he was requested to go forth once more and discover the North West passage, upon which his heart was set. With a crew consisting of twenty Englishmen and Dutchmen, among whom was the same mate who had served with him upon his last voyage, he was now ready to brave again the ice and storms of the Arctic seas.

Upon March the 25th., the experienced navigator left New Amsterdam, and was ere long upon the coast of Nova Zembla, when he met with so much ice and fog, that he gave up any hope of reaching India by this route.

But Hudson was made of no common clay, and, although beaten by the elements, which denied him a northern route, determined to sail to America, that land about which every one in Europe was hearing such wonderful stories. Furthermore, he had with him some maps which had been given him by his old friend, Captain John Smith, on which a strait was marked, south of the fair land of Virginia, by which he might reach the Pacific Ocean and the East Indies. Then, too, he might gain a passage through to the northwest, by means of Davis Strait. Why not? He asked his crew about it, and they voted, to a man, to sail westward. Many of these bronzed sea-dogs had been trained in the East Indies service, were accustomed to sailing in warm, tropical climates, and therefore chose to sail south, rather than to meet the fog, the ice, and the chill tempests of the northern seas.

Heading towards the West, the Half Moon soon reached one of the Faroe Islands, where the casks were filled with fresh water, and then the sails were again hoisted, and a course was set towards Newfoundland. Early in July the Grand Banks were reached, where was a great fleet of French fishing smacks, which had come this great distance in order to catch cod and haddock. As the Half Moon was now becalmed for several days, the crew was sent to the banks to try their luck, and, in one day, one hundred and thirty cod-fish were captured. The wind now freshened, so the mariners sailed towards the west. They soon cleared the banks, passed the shore of Nova Scotia, and, on the morning of the 12th, saw the coast of North America before them. Clouded by fog banks, but brown, rock-ribbed, pine-clad, lay the wonderful country which was inhabited by the deer, the beaver, the moose, and the red Indian.

The Half Moon careened along for several days at some distance from the land, as the fog was so thick, that Hudson feared to approach. Finally the sun burned through the mist and the mariners ran into a goodly harbor at the mouth of a large river. It was Penobscot Bay, upon the coast of Maine, as beautiful then as it is now.

As the ship was lying-to off the harbor, unable to enter because of the fog, two birch-bark canoes had approached them, with six natives of the country, who seemed delighted to see the mariners. Captain Hudson gave them some glass beads and other trinkets,—then they ate and drank with him. One of the natives could speak a little French and told them that the French people were in the habit of trading with them, and that they had gold, copper, and silver mines near by.

When the Half Moon entered Penobscot Bay, great numbers of the redskins paddled out to the vessel, climbed on board, and eagerly gazed upon the sailors, as they mended the sails and made a new foremast. Some of the mariners went ashore to get a needed supply of water, while others amused themselves by catching lobsters,—not in a lobster-pot, you may be sure, but in a small net baited with fish.

Hudson’s men seemed to have had a foolish distrust of the redskins. The Indians were friendly and wished to trade beaver-pelts and fine furs for hatchets, beads, and knives; yet the mariners were so suspicious that they kept a strict watch upon the ship in order to see that no natives approached under cover of the darkness. At last, their mast being ready, these navigators manned a boat with twelve men armed with muskets, and, landing upon the shore, made a savage attack upon the peaceful red men, whom they drove from their houses. It is to the disgrace of Hudson that he allowed this to happen, the only excuse that can be offered being that he had under his command a wild and ungovernable lot of uneducated Dutch and Englishmen.

Having perpetrated this act of cruelty, the adventurers set sail, steering southward along the coast of America, and, in a short time came within sight of Cape Cod. They sounded and found the water quite deep within bowshot of the shore, and, proceeding to the land, discovered grapes and rose-trees, which they brought on board their ship. The Half Moon was now sailed towards the shore and was anchored there. Here Hudson heard voices calling to him from the beach, and, thinking that they might be the cries of some poor sailors who had been left behind, he immediately sent a part of the crew in a boat to land. Upon jumping out upon the sand, it was found that the calls had been made by Indians, who appeared to be greatly rejoiced to see them. The men returned to the ship, bringing one of the natives on board with them, whom they fed, presented with a few glass buttons, and then put ashore in the boat. When the redskin reached the land, he gave every manifestation of great joy, by dancing, leaping, and throwing up his hands. Then letting out a wild and uncouth yell, he disappeared into the brush.

Amused and interested, Hudson now steered southeast, and soon passed the southern point of Cape Cod, which he knew to be the headland which Bartholomew Gosnold had discovered in 1602, seven years before. He sailed by Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard and kept upon his course due south, until, upon the 18th. day of August, he found himself at the entrance of Chesapeake Bay, where, two years before, the first English settlement had been made in America. Hudson was filled with great admiration for these broad waters, and, keeping on, reached the thirty-fifth degree of latitude, or a position which made him certain that there was no passage to the South Pacific Ocean, as John Smith had said. So, retracing his course, he passed the shores of Maryland and discovered the great bay of Delaware.

“It is a good land to fall in with, and is a pleasant land to see,” writes Hudson in his diary, transcribed as the Half Moon was sailing off the shore of Long Branch, New Jersey. The weather was dark and misty, so, sending some men inshore in order to find out the depth of the water, the vessel was headed inland, and, upon the morning of September third, was anchored within Sandy Hook, in five fathoms of water. The next morning, this bold navigator saw that there was “good anchorage and a safe harbor,” so he steered his little vessel within the bay of Sandy Hook, at a distance of two cable lengths from the shore, resting in the famous harbor of New York.

Could Henry Hudson have looked forward through the years and have seen the city of tall buildings, wharves, cobbled streets and rolling elevated-trains which was to cover the island of Manhattan, then lying tranquilly before his gaze, he would doubtless have passed a night of restless nightmare. But he had no forward vision, and, as he feasted his eyes upon a long beach of white sand, behind which were low scrubby bushes, plum trees, grape vines, and twisted oaks, he peacefully smoked a long pipe which an Indian brave had given him, and dreamed of discovering a passage to Asia.

The ship lay drowsily at anchor, and, as it swung upon its chain, many redskins came paddling out from the shore, clambered on board, and seemed to be delighted to see these strange visitors. They were dressed in well-cured deer-skins, which hung loosely over their shoulders, and had many ornaments of copper scattered upon their persons. They brought ears of corn with them and also tobacco, which they wished to exchange for beads, for knives, and for other trinkets. The sailors had much fun in bartering with them and in smoking their stone pipes.

The ship rode snugly at anchor, but during the night a gale sprang up, which was of such fury, that the anchor dragged, and the Half Moon was soon high and dry upon the Jersey beach. But she was not even strained, as the bottom was “soft and oozy,” and when flood-tide came along she was easily towed into deep water. Yet, this was of great interest to the native inhabitants, who crowded eagerly to the shore: men, women and children. They were also very kind, giving the sailors presents of dried currants and green tobacco. Notwithstanding this, the mariners suspected them of treachery and kept continually upon their guard.

Henry Hudson saw that a large river emptied into this bay, where lay the Half Moon, so he sent five men in order to explore and discover how far he could go. They passed through what is now known as the Narrows, found the land to be covered with trees, grass, and flowers, the fragrance of which was delightful, and, after going six miles into New York Bay, turned back. Now an unhappy event was to occur, yet one which showed that the distrust of the natives was a well-founded prejudice.

The boat was being driven along toward the ship, just at dusk, when it was attacked by two canoes containing twenty-six redskinned warriors of old-time New York. Rain was falling, so it was impossible to use the ancient muskets, or match-locks, which were touched off by means of a lighted fuse. The white men could therefore make no defense and rowed off as fast as they could, while a shower of Indian arrows fell into the boat, striking three of the explorers in the body. One of them, John Colman, was killed by an arrow which struck him in the neck. He had been with Hudson in his first voyage and was greatly loved by the brave and resolute navigator.

In this, the first boat race in New York harbor between the redskins and the whites, the white men were victorious, for they escaped into the darkness and wandered around all night. In the dim gray of the early morn they found the ship; climbed thankfully on board, and told of their experience with some show of anxiety, for they feared a general attack from the red men. None came, however, and the dead body of Colman was taken ashore at Sandy Hook, where it was buried in the soil at a place called Colman’s Point.

Just as soon as the burying party had returned to the ship, the boat was hoisted in, and bulwarks were erected upon the sides in order to repel the expected Indian attack. But none came. The night was quiet, only the lapping of the water around the ship’s bow could be heard, and, when day dawned, numerous redskins paddled out to the vessel in the most friendly manner, bringing corn and tobacco to trade with the sailors. From their actions, it appeared that they knew nothing of the battle upon the previous day, and they left in good humor, promising to return next morning with more provisions and many beaver-skins for trade.

In the flush of the early dawn, two large canoes came off to the Half Moon, one filled with men armed with bows and arrows, who seemed to be in war paint. Hudson was suspicious of treachery, so only allowed two of the braves to come on board, whom he dressed up in red coats. The remaining savages returned to the shore, and presently another canoe approached in which were two lone warriors. One of them was allowed to come on deck, Hudson intending to keep him as a hostage to insure the good behavior of his fellow citizens on the Isle of Manhattan.

The redskins, however, did not seem to like their fair-skinned brothers, and one immediately dove into the sea and swam hastily ashore. Expecting an immediate attack, Hudson weighed anchor and floated the Half Moon off into the channel of the Narrows, where he again anchored for the night. He expected an assault, but none came, so he set sail, next morning, for the Bay of New York, which he says that he found to be “an excellent harbor for all winds.” He again anchored, and the Half Moon was soon surrounded by the Indians, who were apparently friendly “making a great show of love, and giving tobacco and Indian wheat.” The navigators, however, were afraid of an attack and kept continually upon their guard, yet the red men departed to the shore, and all was peace and quiet, save for the mewing of the sea gulls and the squawking of a great blue heron, as he winged his way to the inland marshes.

The dreamy haze of September hung over the swirling, blue river as Henry Hudson gazed up the stream which was to ever afterwards bear his name, and, upon the morning of the twelfth, he weighed anchor, and steered towards the northwest. Twenty-eight canoes had visited him that morning, filled with redskinned men, women and children, who had brought oysters and clams to trade for blue beads and glass trinkets. The braves smoked great tobacco pipes of yellow color and their cheeks were smeared with red ochre, so that the mariners were suspicious of them, and, although they traded with them, allowed none to come upon the deck.

The wind was unpropitious, so the Half Moon only sailed about two leagues, when it anchored for the night. Yet, next day, the wind was fresher, so the vessel proceeded to travel about eleven miles, until it came opposite the present town of Yonkers, where the anchor was again let down. The redskins immediately crowded around the boat, but none were allowed to come on board, as the navigators feared treachery.

The weather continued to be fair, so the Half Moon proceeded upon her way, and, driven by a strong breeze, finally anchored in a region where the land was very high and mountainous, evidently the neighborhood of the Highlands and near the present site of the West Point Military Academy. No cries of “Battalion, Attention!” “Squads, Right!” or “Forward, March!” then echoed from the peaceful shore; instead of this, the mariners heard the hooting of a great, brown owl, while far off upon the mountain-side glimmered the camp-fire of a straggling band of Indians. As night descended upon the wilderness, the scream of a panther reverberated from the dense foliage of the high hills, which were beautiful with the first changing colors of autumn. The stream was narrowing, instead of expanding, so, thought Hudson, could it be possible that, after all, there was no passage to the East Indies?

A filmy mist hung over the rippling waters of the stream, next morning, but as the sun shone, a clear wind arose which seemed to blow it away. As Hudson gave orders to his men to haul up the anchor, a sudden splash near the vessel’s side made him run to the gunwale and look eagerly into the water, expecting to see a small whale, or a porpoise. Instead, the head of a redskin bobbed up in the ripples of the stream, as with furious strokes, one of the braves who had been held prisoner, swam towards the shore. Another head appeared. The two red men, who had been held as hostages, had escaped through the port hole.

The Indians soon reached the banks of the stream, climbed out, and standing there with clenched fists, shook them vindictively at the white men, making loud and angry cries. Not at all worried at the happening, Hudson kept on up the now narrowing river, passed by high mountains upon either side, and finally came in sight of other mountains, about fifty miles from his former anchorage. Here the redskins came out to view the curious vessel, and, says Hudson in his journal, they were “very loving people and very old men, who treated us very kindly.” The anchor was cast and a boat was sent off with sailors to catch fish, of which there was a great abundance.

Going ashore, next day, the brave navigator there met an old chieftain who lived in a circular house and was surrounded by forty men and seventeen women. The aged redskin was hospitably inclined and begged the white man to come and feast with him, an invitation which Hudson readily accepted. Two mats were immediately spread for him to sit upon and food was brought forward in large, red bowls made of wood. Several natives were meantime dispatched into the woods in search of game.

After awhile the braves returned with a pair of pigeons which were roasted upon the fire. A feast was now held, consisting of corn, beans, pigeon and fat dog, after which Hudson was requested to spend the night. “I must return,” said the mariner, but this seemed to worry the chief redskin, so that his people took all of their arrows, and, breaking them in pieces, threw them into the fire, as they supposed that the explorer was afraid of them. However, Hudson would not remain in the wigwam, preferring to sleep among his own compatriots.

After trading with the red men, who brought Indian corn, pumpkins and tobacco to the ship, the Half Moon was again steered up-stream, until the water was found to be very shoal. This was probably near the spot where the city of Hudson has grown up. The weather was warm and enervating, but the vessel was kept upon her course until she reached several small islands in the middle of the river, and also very shallow water, which made it impossible to proceed. As night came on, the vessel drifted near the shore and grounded. But she was floated off by means of an anchor, and again lay peacefully in the stream.

Hudson had now proceeded about as far as he could go, and saw that it was impossible to reach the East Indies by way of the winding water-course upon which his vessel lay. His men who had been sent up-stream to explore, in the small boat, brought back word that there was nothing but still shallower water above. So it was apparent that the vessel must return to the sea again, and another passage must be sought for. Yet, before he returned, he determined to make an experiment with some of these many Indians who were crowding about his vessel, in order to learn if they were really treacherous, or were peacefully inclined. This experiment was to be by means of the famous Holland gin, or “fire water” of the white men, and it was decided to place some of the red men under its influence.

Next day, several of the Indian braves were invited down to the broad cabin of the Half Moon, where gin and brandy was given them, until they were all as merry as a marriage bell.

Their squaws looked innocently on as their lords and masters betook plentifully of the cup that cheers, and saw all of them become, first merry, then boisterous, then drowsy. Finally one Indian brave became so deeply intoxicated that he fell asleep upon a bench, snoring with right good will. All of his companions now arose in great fright, for they feared that he was poisoned. Taking to their canoes, they cried out with some show of anger: “You pale faces have sent our brother to the Land of the Great Spirit. Ugh! Ugh! You have poisoned him!” They did not, however, forget their poor companion, and several soon returned, bringing with them long strings of beads which they offered to Hudson, saying: “Take these, brother, and let us have our miserable friend. He has gone to the Land of the Hereafter!” But the mariner declined, answering:

“Let your brother sleep. He is safe with us and will get well. The Great Spirit is watching over him and you need fear nothing.”

The redskin slept peacefully all night, and, when his frightened countrymen came out to see him, next day, they were rejoiced to find him alive and smiling. Crying out, “Ugh! Ugh! The white man was right. The Great Spirit has looked carefully after our brother,” the red men paddled him joyfully to the shore, but soon returned, bringing beads and tobacco, which they gave to Hudson. They also presented him with a large platter of venison. “Pray take this, brother,” said a bronze-skinned chieftain. “We love our brother, for he has let no harm come to our beloved friend who has loved the fire water far too well. Ugh! Ugh!”

Disappointed in not finding the passage to the far East, Hudson now prepared to return. But how far had he gone? Writers seem to disagree upon this point, yet, when one considers that the Half Moon was a small boat, not as large as many of the stone sloops which now sail in the North River, it is reasonable to suppose that it went up the Hudson to a place about in the neighborhood of where Albany now stands, while the boat which was sent on ahead to explore the stream, advanced as far as the town of Waterford.

It was now the twenty-seventh day of September, the weather was balmy, and the leaves of the forest were turning with the first chill of Autumn. The Half Moon drifted slowly down the broadening river, passing the home of the hospitable, old chieftain, near Catskill’s Landing. The redskin came out in his canoe, begging Hudson to come ashore and eat with him; but the wind was too fresh for the navigator to listen to his invitation, so the boat kept on down-stream, leaving the old chief “very sorrowful for their departure.” Toward night the vessel anchored near what is now known as Red Hook Landing, where the sailors had splendid fishing in the blue depths of the magnificent water-course.

Now, detained for a day by head winds, the ship dropped slowly down the river, passing the famous highlands of the Hudson where the mountains looked as if there were some metal, or mineral in them. “The hills seemed to be all blasted, some of them barren with few or no trees on them.” The Indians still crowded around the boat, several of them bringing a stone on board which was like emery, for it would cut iron or steel. On the 1st day of October, with a fair wind behind, the Half Moon sailed through the highlands, and, reaching a point opposite Stony point, was becalmed, and cast anchor.

No sooner had the pronged holding-iron touched bottom than the redskins came crowding around, astonished at everything they saw, and desirous of trade. They offered pumpkins, beaver skins, and dried plums for exchange, but apparently could not procure all that they wished, for one fellow was prompted to steal. Paddling his birch bark canoe near the stern of the Half Moon, he crawled up the rudder into the cabin window and made off with a pillow and some clothes. Jumping stealthily into his canoe, he paddled away as fast as he was able, but was seen by the Mate, who shot and killed him. As he dropped lifeless into the stern of his canoe, the remaining red men fled in terror, some even leaping overboard to swim for it. Meanwhile the ship’s boat was manned and a number of sailors were sent to rescue the stolen articles, which were easily obtained. As the boat headed for the Half Moon, one of the swimming redskins took hold of the stern and endeavored to overturn her. When he did this, the cook drew a sword, and, making a vicious blow at him, cut off his hand. Shrieking with pain, the poor creature sank to the bottom, never to rise again. The sailors hastened their rowing, were soon on board the ship, and, fearing an attack, hoisted sail in order to drop down the stream to the mouth of the Croton River.

The next day was a clear one, with a fair wind, so the Half Moon sailed twenty-one miles to a position somewhere near the head of Manhattan Island, where there was quite a deal of trouble in store for these valiant navigators. As you remember, on the way up the stream, Hudson had held two red men captive, who had escaped through the porthole. These had returned to their fellows, angry and indignant at their captivity, and had raised their compatriots to a revengeful spirit against these white interlopers. The warriors had assembled along the shores of the river, and, as the Half Moon approached, a canoe neared the vessel, in which was one of those who had escaped, and many others, armed with bows and with arrows. Although they attempted to come on board, the wise Hudson would not allow this to be done. Showing anger by their gesticulations, the redskins withdrew, but presently two canoes filled with armed warriors dropped under the stem and began to attack the vessel by showering arrows at her. The mariners fired six muskets at the red men and three of them fell dead in the bottom of their birch-bark canoes.

The Indians who were on the shore, and had been keeping a keen watch upon the affair, now moved down to the beach in a solid body (there were about one hundred in all) and shot arrows at the ship, as she floated by. A cannon was now loaded with ball and was discharged among them, whereby two of them fell mortally wounded. The remainder fled into the woods, with the exception of nine or ten desperate men, who, resolved upon revenge, jumped into a canoe and advanced to fight the ship at close quarters. But the cannon was again discharged, the canoe was pierced by the ball, and three or four redskins were killed by musket shots. The rest swam to shore.

The ship was sailing slowly onward, and, after skirting the shore for about two miles, dropped anchor beneath the cliffs at Hoboken. The day following was a stormy one, but the fourth of October was clear, with an excellent wind, so the Half Moon weighed anchor, passed through the bay, and, with all sails set, shoved her nose into the swirling billows of the broad Atlantic, leaving the noble river far astern.

The mate was in favor of wintering in Newfoundland, and of then seeking a passage to the Far East by means of the Davis Strait, but Hudson opposed this. The course of the Half Moon was kept in a line for England, where, on the seventh day of November, after an absence of a little more than seven months from Amsterdam, she glided into the harbor of Dartmouth. The crew, as you doubtless remember, was composed partly of English, partly of Dutch sailors, and, it is said that the Englishmen refused to allow their Captain to sail into a Dutch harbor. Dutch historians declare, that, as the English King was jealous of the bold mariner’s enterprises, he was not allowed to sail to Holland. At any rate, Hudson remembered his duty to his employers, and sent them a journal and chart of his discoveries, pointing with great pride to what he called “the Great River of the Mountains.” The Dutch soon came over to settle the new-found country, and named the stream the North River, to distinguish it from the Delaware, or South River. The Indians called it Cahohatatea, Mahackaneghtue, and sometimes Shatemuck.

This successful voyage had now given Hudson a great name, and his discoveries fired his old employers of the London Company with enthusiasm. So they again called him into their service, determined to make an effort to find the North West passage by examining the inlets of this wonderful continent of America,—more particularly Davis Strait, through which it was supposed a channel might be found into the “Great South Sea.” Hudson was furnished with the ship Discovery, of fifty-five tons, which, equipped and manned with twenty-three men, set out for the Far West. This journey was to be his last one.

Upon the 17th. of April, 1610, the Discovery passed out of the mouth of the Thames, and, sailing near the coast of Scotland, the Orkney, Shetland and Faroe Islands, left the coast of Ireland astern, and headed for the barren shores of Greenland. Great numbers of whales were encountered, and two of these sea monsters dove underneath the ship, but did the craft no harm. It was soon evident that there was a turbulent and mutinous disposition among the crew,—Robert Juet, the Mate, being the chief offender, for he had remarked to one of the sailors that there would be bloodshed before the voyage was over, and he was evidently plotting to seize the vessel, even at this early date.

The history of this journey is very similar to that of most of the Arctic explorers. Hudson and his men met great, floating fields of ice; were chilled by the perpetual frost and snow; and were finally starved into a submissive recognition of the fact that there could be no passage to Asia through the desolate region of the frozen North.

Yet, the adventurous mariner discovered the great bay which bears his name and also the strait which is known as Hudson Strait. Forced to winter upon the land near Cape Digges, he soon discovered that his food supply was so low, that, should not succor come to him, he and his men would die of starvation. Luckily, there were many white partridges, or ptarmigan, near the ship, which supplied them with provender, and, when Spring came, great numbers of swans, of geese, ducks and other water-fowl came soaring by. Unfortunately they went farther North to breed, so the poor explorers were forced to search the hills, the woods, and the valleys for anything which might afford them subsistence, even eating the moss which grew upon the ground.

About the time when the ice began to break up, a brown-skinned savage, doubtless an Eskimo, put in his appearance, and, as he was treated well, returned in a day or so, bringing beaver and other skins, which he gave to Hudson and his men, in return for presents which he had received the day before. He went away, promising to visit them again, but, as he did not do so, it is evident that he did not think that the white men had given him good treatment.

The ice had now begun to melt, so the ship was headed southward. It was the middle of June, yet there were still great quantities of floating ice, so much, in fact, that the vessel was obliged to anchor. The food supply was about exhausted and all that was left was a little bread and a few pounds of cheese. Hudson now told one of the crew to search the chests of all of the men in order to find any provisions which might be concealed there. The sailor obeyed and brought the Captain thirty cakes in a bag. When the crew learned this, they were greatly exasperated, and plotted open mutiny against the famous navigator.

The vessel had been detained about a week in the ice when the first signs of mutiny appeared. Two sailors, called Greene and Wilson, the latter being the Boatswain, came one night to another mariner called Pricket, and told him that several of the crew had resolved to seize Hudson and set him adrift in a boat with all those on board who had been disabled by sickness.

“There are only a few days’ provisions left,” said Greene, “and the master seems to be entirely irresolute which way to go. I, myself, have eaten nothing for three days, so our only hope is to take command of the ship, and, after escaping from these regions, we will go back to England.”

Pricket remonstrated with them, saying: “If you stain yourselves with so great a crime you will be banished from England forever. Pray delay your intention for four or five days, when we will be free of the ice and can doubtless get plenty of fish in our nets.”

Upon this Greene took up the Bible which lay there and swore that he would “do no man harm, and that what he did was for the good of the voyage and nothing else.”

There were many poor fellows who were ill and it was determined to maroon them in the boat with Hudson, so that the mutineers could do as they wished with the Discovery, and would not be hampered by either their master or any one who could not work the ship. It was decided to put the plot into execution at day-break.

As Hudson came up from the cabin, next morning, after eating a scanty breakfast, he was immediately seized by two sailors and his arms were bound fast behind him.

“What does this mean, men?” cried he, with great indignation.

Only sneers of defiance greeted his question. He now called upon the ship’s carpenter to help him, telling him that he was bound, but, as this poor fellow was also surrounded by mutineers, he could render him no assistance.

The boat was now hauled alongside, and the sick and the lame were made to come up from below. They were told to get in, and Hudson’s little son was forced to clamber over the steep sides of the vessel, and to lie upon the bottom of the boat. The sails were now hoisted upon the Discovery, and she stood eastward with a fair wind, dragging the poor fellows in the boat, astern. In a few hours, being clear of the ice, the rope leading to the shallop was cut, and soon afterwards the mutineers lost sight of Henry Hudson forever.

The hardy adventurer was never heard of again. As for the mutineers, although they steered for Ireland, before they reached the coast they were so weakened that no one was found strong enough to stand by the helm. When only one fowl was left for their subsistence and another day would be their last, they abandoned all care of the vessel and prepared to meet their fate. Suddenly the joyful cry of “a sail” was heard, and a fishing vessel came alongside which took them into a harbor of Ireland. They arrived in London after an absence of one year and five months.

The English people were horrified to learn of the treatment which the mutinous crew had administered to Henry Hudson and sent out two vessels, the next Spring, in the hope of learning something of the fate of this brave navigator. Yet nothing was ever seen or heard of the unfortunate discoverer, who perished amidst the fogs and the ice of that bleak, northern ocean.

Hudson was brave, resourceful, and resolute. He has been accused of cruelty to the Indians, and of want of high principle in causing their general intoxication when sailing upon the great river which was to be named after him. Yet you must remember that he had a mutinous body of men under his command, and could not easily restrain them from returning insult for injury, when their redskinned friends shot arrows at them. The death of the nine Indians killed at the head of Manhattan Island may be said to have been caused in a war of self-defense. As for the charge of heartlessness in getting the redskins intoxicated, you must also remember, that, like his men, he was suspicious and alarmed, and therefore was determined to learn the honesty or treachery of the Indians by any means whatsoever. In England, they grieved deeply for the death of such a gallant countryman, and in the new world he has perpetual monuments to his memory, for here a great bay, a city, and a mighty river, all bear the name of this brave yet unfortunate navigator.

THE WIND FROM THE NORTHLAND

The wind blew from the northland, as the frozen bergs went by,

And it sobbed a song through the grizzly murk, to the bobbing siren’s cry.

It sang of men of daring, and it whined of maids of the mist,

Who burnish the shields of their men-at-arms, where the ice with the sunset’s kissed.

Ah! it told of Leif the Lucky, with his sword and his Vikings bold,

Who hounded the bear to his cavern in the land where the penguins scold.

We heard the clang of their axes; we were jarred with the crash of their swords,

As the blaring bugles shrilled their notes in thin, transparent words.

And the wind sang of brave Hudson, and it sobbed for his starving son,

As, adrift in a boat, they were chilled by the glut of that night without a sun.

And the blast sobbed out its tale of death, of Baffin, Franklin, and Kane,

Of Marvin, de Long, and Parry; of the days of sorrow and pain.

Yet, the blinding sea-mew caroled with joy, as it whined by the loitering fleet,

Which cruised where the cod and the haddock shoal, at the rock-ribbed island’s feet.

And it shouted and roared a pÆan, to the heroes who’d carried a flag,

A bit of a piece of red, white, and blue, to the spot where the ice-drifts sag,

As it southward flew, it grew and it grew, ’til it roared out a rollicking psalm,

To Peary, MacMillan, Borup; brave travelers, silent and calm.

Southward it sang its slogan, where the tossing palm groves sway,

And it rolled out a cheer of three times three, for “Uncle Sam and the U. S. A.!”