Читать книгу The Great Company - Beckles Willson - Страница 9

Table of Contents

The Prince Visits the Nonsuch—Arrival in the Bay—Previous Voyages of Exploration—A Fort Commenced at Rupert's River—Gillam's Return—Dealing with the Nodwayes—Satisfaction of the Company—A Royal Charter Granted.

Early in the morning of the 3rd of June, 1668, without attracting undue attention from the riparian dwellers and loiterers, a small skiff shot out from Wapping Old Stairs. The boatman directed its prow towards the Nonsuch, a ketch of fifty tons, then lying at anchor in mid-Thames, and soon had the satisfaction of conveying on board in safety his Highness Prince Rupert, Lord Craven, and Mr. Hays, the distinguished patrons of an interesting expedition that day embarking for the New World. Radisson was to have accompanied the expedition but he had met with an accident and was obliged to forego the journey until the following year.

All hands being piped on deck, a salute was fired in honour of the visitors. Captain Zachary Gillam and the Sieur des Groseilliers received the Prince, and undertook to exhibit, not without a proper pride, their craft and its cargo. Subsequently a descent was made to the captain's cabin, where a bottle of Madeira was broached, and the success of the voyage toasted by Rupert and his companions. The party then returned to Wapping, amidst a ringing cheer from captain and crew. By ten o'clock the Nonsuch had weighed anchor and her voyage had begun.

The passage across the Atlantic was without any incident worthy of record. The vessel was fortunate in encountering no gales or rough seas. The leisure of Groseilliers and Captain Gillam was employed chiefly in discussing the most advantageous landfall, and in drawing up plans for a settlement for fort-building and for trade with the tribes. By the 4th of August they sighted Resolution Isle, at the entrance of Hudson's Straits. They continued fearlessly on their course. During their progress the shores on either hand were occasionally visible; and once a squall compelled them to go so near land as to descry a band of natives, the like of whom for bulk and singularity of costume, Groseilliers and the captain had never clapped eyes upon. They were right in judging these to be Esquimaux.

The "Nonsuch" in the Bay.

On the seventh day of their passage amongst those narrow channels and mountains of ice which had chilled the enthusiasm and impeded the progress of several daring navigators before them, the forty-two souls on board the Nonsuch were rewarded with a sight of Hudson's Bay.[9]

Already, and long before the advent of the Nonsuch, Hudson's Bay had a history and a thrilling one.

In 1576 Sir Martin Frobisher made his first voyage for the discovery of a passage to China and Cathay by the north-west, discovering and entering a strait to which he gave his name. In the following year he made a second voyage, "using all possible means to bring the natives to trade, or give him some account of themselves, but they were so wild that they only studied to destroy the English." Frobisher remained until winter approached and then returned to England. A further voyage of his in 1578–79 made no addition to the knowledge already derived.

Six years later Captain John Davis sailed from Dartmouth, and in that and succeeding voyages reached the Arctic circle through the straits bearing his name. He related having found an open sea tending westward, which he hoped might be the passage so long sought for; but the weather proved too tempestuous, and, the season being far advanced, he likewise returned to a more hospitable clime. After this there were no more adventures in this quarter of the world until 1607, when Captain Hudson explored as far north as 80 degrees 23 minutes. On his third voyage, two years later, he proceeded a hundred leagues farther along the strait, and arriving at the Bay resolved to winter there.

Hudson was preparing for further exploration when Henry Green, a profligate youth, whom he had taken into his house and preserved from ruin by giving him a berth on board without the knowledge of the owners, conspired with one Robert Ivett, the mate, whom Captain Hudson had removed, to mutiny against Hudson's command. These turned the captain, with his young son John, a gentleman named Woodhouse, who had accompanied the expedition, together with the carpenter and five others, into a long-boat, with hardly any provisions or arms. The inhuman crew suffered all the hardships they deserved, for in a quarrel they had with the savages Green and two of his companions were slain. As for Ivett, who had made several voyages with Hudson, and was the cause of all the mischief, he died on the passage home. Habbakuk Prickett, one of the crew, who wrote all the account we have of the latter part of the voyage, was a servant of Sir Dudley Diggs. Probably his master's influence had something to do with his escape from punishment.

Henry Hudson's fate.

This was the last ever seen or heard, by white men, of Henry Hudson, and there is every likelihood that he and the others drifted to the bottom of the Bay and were massacred by the savages.

In the year of Hudson's death Sir Thomas Button, at the instigation of that patron of geographical science, Prince Henry, pursued the dead hero's discoveries. He passed Hudson's Straits and, traversing the Bay, settled above two hundred leagues to the south-west from the straits, bestowing upon the adjacent region the name of New Wales. Wintering in the district afterwards called Port Nelson, Button made an investigation of the boundaries of this huge inland sea, from him named Button's Bay.

In 1611 came the expedition of Baffin; and in 1631 Captain James sailed westward to find the long-sought passage to China, spending the winter at Charlton Island, which afterwards became a depot of the Company. Captain Luke Fox went out in the same year, but his success was no greater than his predecessors in attaining the object of his search. He landed at Port Nelson and explored the country round about, without however much advantage either to himself or to his crew. When the Nonsuch arrived a quarter of a century had passed since an European had visited Hudson's Bay.

After much consultation, the adventurers sailed southward from Cape Smith, and on Sept. 29 decided to cast anchor at the entrance to a river situated in 51 degrees latitude. The journey was ended; the barque's keel grated on the gravel, a boat was lowered and Gillam and Groseilliers went promptly ashore. The river was christened Rupert's River,[10] and it being arranged to winter here, all hands were ordered ashore to commence the construction of a fort and dwellings, upon which the name of King Charles was bestowed. Thus our little ship's-load of adventurers stood at last on the remotest shores of the New World; all but two of them strangers in a strange land.

The first Fort.

For three days after their arrival Groseilliers and his party beheld no savages. The work of constructing the fort went on apace. It was, under Groseilliers' direction, made of logs, after the fashion of those built by the traders and Jesuits in Canada; a stockade enclosing it, as some protection from sudden attack. The experienced bushranger deemed it best not to land the cargo until communication had been made with the natives; and their attitude, friendly or otherwise, towards the strangers ascertained. No great time was spent in waiting; for on the fourth day a small band of the tribe called Nodwayes appeared, greatly astonished at the presence of white settlers in those parts. After a great deal of parleying, the Indians were propitiated by Groseilliers with some trifling gifts, and the object of their settlement made known. The Indians retired, promising to return before the winter set in with all the furs in their possession, and also to spread the tidings amongst the other tribes.

The autumn supply proved scanty enough; but the adventurers being well provisioned could afford to wait until the spring.

Groseilliers' anticipations were realized; but not without almost incredible activity on his part. He spent the summer and autumn, and part of the ensuing winter, in making excursions into the interior. He made treaties with the Nodwayes, the Kilistineaux, the Ottawas, and other detachments of the Algonquin race. Solemn conclaves were held, in which the bushranger dwelt—with that rude eloquence of which he was master, and which both he and Radisson had borrowed from the Indians—on the superior advantages of trade with the English. Nor did his zeal here pause; knowing the Indian character as he did, he concocted stories about the English King and Prince Rupert; many a confiding savage that year enriched his pale-face vocabulary by adding to it "Charles" and "Rupert," epithets which denoted that transcendent twain to whom the French bushranger had transferred his labours and his allegiance.

The winter of 1668–69 dragged its slow length along, and in due course the ground thawed and the snow disappeared. No sooner had the spring really arrived than strange natives began to make their appearance, evincing a grotesque eagerness to strike bargains with the whites for the pelts which they brought from the bleak fastnesses. By June it was thought fit that Captain Gillam should return with the Nonsuch, leaving Groseilliers and others at the fort. Gillam accordingly sailed away with such cargo as they had been able to muster, to report to the Prince and his company of merchants the excellent prospects afforded by the post on Rupert's River, provided only the Indians could be made aware of its existence, and the French trade intercepted.