The fleet of eight vessels left the roads of Texel on the first of May of the year 1598, and with a favorable wind reached the Cape Verde Islands three weeks later. There, a general council of the different captains was asked to decide upon the further course. For with each expedition the knowledge of what ought to be done and what ought to be omitted increased, and the experiences of Houtman on the coast of Africa where his entire crew had been disabled through scurvy, must not be repeated. The fleet must either follow the coast of Africa to get fresh food and water whenever necessary, or the ships must risk a more western course, which would take them a far distance away from land, but would bring them into currents which would carry them to the Indies in a shorter while. They decided to take the western course. It was a very tedious voyage except for the flying-fishes which sometimes accompanied the ship. Luck was with the expedition, and on the ninth of July the ships passed the equator. The little island of Trinidad, off the coast of Brazil, was soon reached, and an inquisitive trip in an open boat to explore this huge rock almost ended in disaster. But such small affairs as a night spent in an open boat in a stormy ocean were all in the day's work and gave the sailors something to talk about.
Within a remarkably short time the lonely island of Tristan d'Acunha was passed, and from there the current and the western winds carried the ships to the Cape of Good Hope. But near this stormy promontory a small hurricane suddenly fell upon the fleet, and after a night of very heavy squalls one of the eight ships had disappeared. It was never seen again. A few days later, this time through carelessness in observing signals, four other ships were separated from their admiral. Several days were spent in coursing about in the attempt to find them. The sea, however, is very wide, and ships very small, and Van Neck with two big and one small vessel at last decided to continue the voyage alone. He was in a hurry. There were many rivals to his great undertaking, and when he actually met a Dutch ship sent out by the province of Zeeland, he insisted that there must be no delay of any sort. The Zeeland ship, however, was not a dangerous competitor. Nine members of its crew of seventy-five had died. Among the others there was so much scurvy that only seven men were able to handle the helm. Only two could climb aloft. The Amsterdam ships ought to have helped their fellow-countrymen, but in the Indian spice trade it was a question of "first come, first served." Therefore they piously commended their Zeeland brethren to the care of the Good Lord and hastened on.
A short stay in Madagascar was necessary because the water in the tanks was of such abominable taste and smelled so badly that it must be replenished. The ships sailed to the east coast of the island, stopped at Santa Maria, well known from the visit of Houtman's ships three years before, and then made a short trip in search of fresh fruit to the bay of Antongil. On the island of Santa Maria they had found a happy population, well governed by an old king and spending their days in hunting wild animals on land or catching whales at sea. But in the Bay of Antongil things had greatly changed since Houtman had left a year before. There had been a war with some of the tribes from the interior of the island. The villages along the coast had been burned, and all the cattle had been killed. Men and women were dying of starvation. Right in the midst of the lovely tropical scenery there lay the decaying corpses of the natives, a prey to vultures and jackals. The expedition of Van Neck, however, had been sent out to buy spices in India and not to reform the heathen inhabitants of African islands. The water-tanks were hastily filled, and on the sixteenth of September the island was left to its own fate.
For two months the ships sailed eastward. There were a few sick men on board, but nobody died, which was considered a magnificent record in those days for so long a voyage. On November 19 the high mountains of the coast of Sumatra appeared upon the horizon. From there Van Neck steered southward, and near the Sunda Islands he at last reached the dangerous domains of the Portuguese. The cannon were inspected, the mechanism of the guns was well oiled, and everything was made ready for a possible fight. Before the coast of Java was reached one of the islands of the Sunda Archipelago was visited. Could the natives tell them anything about the Portuguese and their intentions? The natives could not do this, but in return asked the men whether they perhaps knew anything about a foreign expedition which had been in those parts a few years before? That expedition, it appeared, had left a very bad reputation behind on account of its cruelty and insolence.
Van Neck decided not to remain in this region, where his predecessor had made himself too thoroughly unpopular, and sailed direct for Bantam. He would take his risks. On November 26, while the sun was setting, the three ships dropped anchor in that harbor. They spent an uncomfortable night, for nobody knew what sort of reception would await them on the next day. Houtman had been in great difficulty with both the sultan and the Portuguese. Very likely the ships, flying the Dutch flag, would be attacked in the morning. But when morning came, the ubiquitous Chinaman, who in the far Indies serves foreign potentates as money-changer, merchant, diplomatic agent, and handy-man in general, came rowing out to Van Neck's ship. He told the admiral that the sultan sent the Hollanders his very kind regards and begged them to accept a small gift of fresh fruit. The sultan was glad to see the Hollanders. If they would only send a messenger on shore the sultan would receive him at once. Meanwhile as a sign of good faith the Chinese intermediary was willing to stay on board the ship of the Hollanders. Nobody in the fleet, least of all the officers and sailors who remembered what had happened two years before, had expected such a reception. They were soon told the reason of this change in attitude. After Houtman and his ships left in the summer of 1596 the Portuguese Government had sent a strong fleet to punish the Sultan of Bantam for having been too friendly to the Hollanders. This fleet had suffered a defeat, but since that time the people in Bantam had feared the arrival of another punitive expedition. The Hollanders, therefore, came as very welcome defenders of the rights of the young sultan. It was decided that their services should be used for the defense of the harbor if the long-expected Portuguese fleet should make a new attack. It was in this rôle of the lesser of two evils that the Hollanders finally were to conquer their Indian empire from the Portuguese. Van Neck was the first Dutch captain to use the local political situation for his own benefit. He sent his representative on shore, who was received with great ceremony. He explained how this fleet had been sent to the Indies by the mighty Prince of Orange, and he promised that the Bantam government would be allowed to see all the official documents which the admiral had brought if they would deign to visit the ships. This invitation was not well received. The Bantam people had been familiar with the ways of white men for almost a hundred years. They distrusted all cordial invitations to come on board foreign ships, and they asked that the Hollanders send their papers ashore. "No," Van Neck told them through his envoy, "a document given to me by the mighty Prince of Orange is too important to be allowed out of my immediate sight."
In the end the sultan, curious to see whether these letters could perhaps tell him something of further ships which might be on their way, agreed to make his appearance upon the ship of the admiral, where he was received with great courtesy.
Then, after the fashion of the Indian ruler of his day and of our own, he demanded to know what his profits were to be in case he allowed the Hollanders to trade in his city. Van Neck began negotiations about the bribe which the different functionaries were to receive. For a consideration of 3200 reals to the sultan and the commander of the harbor, the Dutch ships were at last given permission to approach the shore and buy whatever they wanted. For ten days long canoes filled with pepper and nutmeg surrounded the ships. The pepper was bought for three reals a bag. Everything was very pleasant, but one day Abdul, the native who came from Bali, got on shore and visited the city. Here among his own people he cut quite a dash, and bragging about the wonders of the great Dutch Republic, he volunteered the information that on the Amsterdam market he had seen how a bag of pepper was sold for 100 reals. That sum, therefore, was just ninety-seven reals more than the people in Bantam received for their own raw product. Of course they did not like the idea of getting so little, and at once they refused to sell to Van Neck at the old rate. It was a great disappointment. He tried to do business with some Chinamen, but they were worse than the Javanese. They offered their pepper to the Hollanders at a ridiculously low price, but after the bags had been weighed they were found to be weighted with stones and sand and pieces of glass.
There was no end to all the small annoyances which the Dutch admiral was made to suffer. There were a number of Portuguese soldiers hanging about the town. They had been made prisoners during the last fatal expedition against Bantam, and they suffered a good many hardships. One day they were allowed to pay a visit to the Dutch ships, and the tales of their misery were so harrowing that the admiral had given them some money to be used for the purpose of buying food and clothes. No sooner, however, were the prisoners back on dry land than they started the rumor that the Hollanders were dangerous pirates and ought not to be trusted. Van Neck vowed that he would hang his ungrateful visitors if ever they came to him again with their tales of woe. Meanwhile, in order to stop further talk, he promised to raise the price of pepper two reals. For five reals a bag his ships were now filled with a cargo of the costly spice.
In a peaceful way the month of December went by. It was the last day of the year 1598 when quite unexpectedly the lost ships that had been driven away from their admiral near the Cape of Good Hope appeared at Bantam. They had passed through many exciting adventures. After they had lost sight of the commander-in-chief, they had first spent several days trying to discover his whereabouts. Then they had continued their way to get fresh water in Madagascar. They had reached the coast of the island safely, but just before they could land a sudden storm had driven them eastward. On the seventeenth of September they had again seen land, and they had dropped their anchors to discover to what part of the world they had been blown by the wind. The map did not show that there was any land in this region. Therefore on the eighteenth of September of the year 1598 they had visited the island which lay before them, and they found that they had reached paradise. All the sailors had been taken ashore, it being Sunday, and the ships' pastor had preached a wonderful sermon. So eloquent were his words that one of the Madagascar boys who was on the fleet had accepted Christian baptism then and there. After that for a full month officers and men had taken a holiday. Whatever they wished for the island provided in abundance. There was fresh water. There were hundreds of tame pigeons. There were birds which resembled an ostrich, although they were smaller and tasted better when cooked. There were gigantic bats and turtles so large that several men could take a ride on their back. Fish abounded in the rivers and the sea around the island, and it was thickly covered with all sorts of palm-trees. Indeed, it looked so fertile that it was decided to use it as a granary for future expeditions. Grain had been planted, and also beans and peas for the use of ships which might come during the next years. Then the island had been officially annexed for the benefit of the republic. It had been called Mauritius after Prince Maurice of Nassau, the Stadholder of Holland. Finally after a rooster and seven chickens had been given the freedom of this domain, to assure future travelers of fresh eggs, the four ships had hoisted their sails and had come to Bantam to join their admiral.
Van Neck now commanded several ships, which were loaded. But the others must await the arrival of a new supply of pepper, which was being brought to Bantam from the Moluccas by some enterprising Chinamen. This would take time, and Van Neck was still in a great hurry. He refused to consider the tempting offers of the Sultan of Bantam, who still wanted his help against his Portuguese enemies. Instead, he entered into negotiations with a Hindu merchant who offered to bring the other ships directly to the Moluccas, where they would be in the heart of the spice-growing islands. The Hindu was engaged, and navigated the ships safely to their destination. Here through their good behavior the Hollanders made such an excellent impression upon the native ruler that they were allowed to establish two settlements on shore and leave a small garrison until they should return to buy more mace and nutmeg at incredibly reasonable terms. As for Van Neck, having saluted his faithful companions with a salvo of his big guns, which started a panic in the good town of Bantam, where the people still remembered the departure of Houtman, he sailed for the coast of Africa.
He had every reason to be contented with his success. In a final audience with the governor of the city of Bantam he had promised this dignitary that the Hollanders would return the next year, "because that was the will of their mighty ruler." The governor, from his side, who upon this occasion had to deal with a much better class of men than Houtman and his crew of mutinous sailors, had decided that the Hollanders were preferable to the Portuguese, and he assured Van Neck of a cordial reception.
The return voyage was not as prosperous as the outward trip had been. Dysentery attacked the fleet, and many of the best officers and men had to be sewn into their hammocks to be dropped into the ocean, where they found an honorable burial. St. Helena, with its fresh water and its many wild animals, was reached just when the number of healthy men had fallen to thirty. A week of rest and decent food was enough to cure all the men, and then they sailed for home. But so great was the hurry of this rich squadron to reach the markets of Amsterdam that Van Neck's ship was almost destroyed when it hoisted too many sails and when the wind broke two of the masts. It was not easy to repair this damage in the open sea. After several days some sort of jury rig was equipped. The big ship, with its short stubby mast, then looked so queer that several Dutch vessels which saw it appear upon the horizon off the Gulf of Biscay beat a hasty retreat. They feared that they had to do with a new sort of pirate, sailing the seas in the most recent piratical invention.
On the nineteenth of July, after an absence of only one year and two months, the first part of Van Neck's fleet returned safely to Holland. The cargo was unloaded, and was sold on the Amsterdam exchange. After the full cost of the expedition had been paid, each of the shareholders received a profit of just one hundred per cent. Van Neck, who had established the first Dutch settlement in the Indies, was given a public reception by his good city and was marched in state to the town hall.
Oliver van Noort was the first Hollander to sail around the world. Incidentally, he was the fourth navigator to succeed in this dangerous enterprise since in the year 1520 the little ships of Magellan had accomplished the feat of circumnavigating the globe. Of the hero of this memorable Dutch voyage we know almost nothing. He was a modest man, and except for a few lines of personal introduction which appear in the printed story of his voyage, which was published in Rotterdam, his home town, in the year 1620, in which he tells us that he had made many trips to different parts of the world, his life to us is a complete mystery.
He was not, like Jacob van Heemskerk and Van Neck, a man of education; neither was he of very low origin. He had picked up a good deal of learning at the common schools. Very likely he had been the mate or perhaps the captain of some small schooner, had made a little money, and then had retired from the sea. Spending one's days on board a ship in the latter half of the sixteenth century was no pleasure. The ships were small. The cabins were uncomfortable, and so low that nowhere one could stand up straight. Cooking had to be done on a very primitive stove, which could not always be used when the weather was bad. The middle part of the deck was apt to be flooded most of the time, and the flat-bottomed ships rolled and pitched horribly. Therefore, as soon as a man had made a little competency as the master of a small craft he was apt to look for some quiet occupation on shore. He had not learned a regular trade which he could use on shore. Very often, therefore, he opened a small hotel or an inn or just an ale-house where he could tell yarns about whales and wild men and queer countries which he had seen in the course of his peregrinations. And when the evening came and the tired citizen wanted to smoke a comfortable pipe and discuss the politics of the pope, the emperor, kings, dukes, bishops and their Mightinesses, his own aldermen, he liked to do so under the guidance of a man who knew what was what in the world and who could compare the stadholder's victories over the Spaniards with those which King Wunga Wunga of Mozambique had gained over his Hottentot neighbors, and who knew that the wine of Oporto sold in Havana for less than the vinegar from Dantsic and the salted fish from Archangel.
Therefore we are not surprised when in the year 1595 we find Oliver van Noort described as the owner of the "Double White Keys," an ale-house in the town of Rotterdam. He might have finished his days there in peace and prosperity, but when Houtman returned from his first voyage and the craze for the riches of the Indies, or at least a share thereof, struck the town of Rotterdam, Van Noort, together with everybody else who could borrow a few pennies, began to think of new ways of reaching the marvelous island of Java, made of gold and jewels and the even more valuable pepper and nutmeg. Van Noort himself possessed some money and the rest he obtained from several of his best customers. With this small sum he founded a trading company of his own. He petitioned the estates general of the republic and the estates of his own province of Holland to assist him in an expedition toward the "Kingdom of Chili, the west coast of America, and if need be, the islands of the Moluccas." To make this important enterprise successful, the estates general were asked to give Van Noort and his trading company freedom of export and import for at least six voyages, and to present it with ten cannon and twelve thousand pounds of gunpowder. He asked for much in the hope of obtaining at least part of what he desired.
In the winter of 1597 his request was granted. He received four guns, six thousand pounds of bullets, twelve thousand pounds of gunpowder, and a special grant which relieved him of the customary export tax for two voyages. This demand for cannon, gunpowder, and bullets gives us the impression that the expedition expected to meet with serious trouble. That was quite true. The southern part of America was the private property of the Spaniards and the Portuguese. Anybody who ventured into those regions flying the Dutch colors did so at his own peril. Among his fellow-citizens Van Noort had the reputation of great courage. Nobody knew any precise details of his early life, but it was whispered, although never proved, that many years ago, long before the days of Houtman, he had tried to reach the Indies all alone, but that he had preferred the more lucrative profession of pirate to the dangerous calling of the pioneer. Since, however, all his privateering had been done at the expense of the Spaniards, nobody minded these few alleged irregularities of his youthful days. And the merchants who drank their pot of ale at his inn willingly provided him with the money which he needed, bade him go ahead, and helped him when during the winter of the year 1597 he was getting his two ships ready for the voyage.
Now, it happened that at that time a number of merchants in Amsterdam were working for the same purpose. They, too, wanted to sail to the Moluccas by way of the Strait of Magellan. For the sake of greater safety the two companies decided to travel together. In June of the year 1597 their fleet, composed of four ships, was ready for the voyage. Van Noort was to command the biggest vessel, the Mauritius, while the commander of the Amsterdam company was to be vice-admiral of the fleet on board the Henrick Frederick. The name of the vice-admiral was Jacob Claesz. We know nothing about his early career, but we know all the details of his tragic end. There were two other small ships. There was a yacht called the Eendracht, and there was a merchantman called the Hope. The tonnage of the ships is not mentioned, but since there were only two hundred and forty-eight men on the four ships, they must have been small even for that time.
In a general way our meager information about the invested capital, the strange stories of the early lives of the commanders, and the very rough character of the crew show that we have to do with one of the many mushroom companies, an enterprise which was not based upon very sound principles, but was of a purely speculative nature. During the earliest days of Indian trading, however, all good merchants were in such a hurry to make money to get to Java long before anybody else and to reach home ahead of all competitors that there was no time for the promoting of absolutely sound companies.
On the other hand, the men who commanded those first expeditions had all been schooled in the noble art of self-reliance during the first twenty terrible years of the war against Spain. They were brave, they were resourceful, they succeeded where others, more careful, would have failed.
On the twenty-eighth of June of the year 1597 Van Noort left Rotterdam to await his companions from Amsterdam in the Downs, England. He waited for several weeks, but the ships did not appear, so he went back to Holland to find out what might have become of them. He found them lying at anchor in one of the Zeeland streams. Evidently there had been a misunderstanding as to the exact meeting-place of the two squadrons. Together they then began the voyage for a second time. They had lost a month and a half in waiting for each other, but at that date forty-five days more or less did not matter. The trip was to take a couple of years, anyway.
First of all Van Noort went to Plymouth, where he had arranged to meet a British sailor, commonly referred to as "Captain Melis," a man who had been around the world with Captain Cavendish in 1588, and who was familiar with the stormy regions around the southern part of the American continent. In exchange for one Englishman, Van Noort lost several good Dutchmen. Six of his sailors deserted, and could not be found again.
The first part of the trip was along the coast of Africa, a road which we know from other expeditions. Then came a story with which we are only too familiar from previous accounts, for the much dreaded scurvy appeared among the men. When the fleet passed the small island of Principe in the Gulf of Guinea, it was decided to land there and try to obtain fresh water and fresh food. Unfortunately, this island was within the established domain of the Portuguese, and the Hollanders must be careful. Early in the morning of the day on which they intended to look for water they sent three boats ashore flying a white flag as a sign of their peaceful intentions. The inhabitants of the island came near the boats, also carrying a white flag. They informed the Hollanders that if they would kindly visit the near-by villages the natives would sell them everything they wanted, provided the Hollanders paid cash. The men were ordered to stay near the boats, but four officers went farther inland. They were asked to come first of all to the Portuguese castle that was on the island. They went, but once inside, they were suddenly attacked, and three of them were murdered. The fourth one jumped out of the gate just in time to save his life. He ran to the shore. This was a great loss to the Hollanders, for among the men who had been killed was a brother of Admiral van Noort and the English pilot upon whom they depended to guide them through the difficult Strait of Magellan.
To uphold the prestige of the Dutch Republic, Van Noort decided to make an example. The next day after he landed with 120 of his men and entrenched himself near the mouth of a river, so that he might fill his water-tanks at leisure. Then, following this river, he went into the interior of the country and burned down all the plantations and houses he could find.
Well provided with fresh water, he thereupon crossed the Atlantic Ocean and steered for the coast of Brazil. On the ninth of February he dropped anchor in the harbor of Rio de Janeiro, which was a Portuguese town. He carefully kept out of reach of the menacing guns of the fortification. The reception in Brazil was little more cordial than it had been on the other side of the ocean. The Portuguese sent a boat to the Dutch ships to ask what they wanted. The answer was that the Hollanders were peaceful travelers in need of fresh provisions. The provisions were promised for the next day, but Van Noort, who had heard similar promises before, was on his guard and for safety's sake he kept a few Portuguese sailors on his ship as hostages.
On the morning of the next day he sent several of his men to the shore to get the supplies. They landed near a mountain called the Sugarloaf. Once more the Portuguese did not play the game fairly. They had posted a number of their soldiers in a well-hidden ambush near the Sugarloaf. These soldiers suddenly opened fire, wounded a large number of the Dutch seamen and took two of them prisoners. A little later a shot fired from one of the cannon of the castle killed a man on board the Eendracht. The two Dutch prisoners were safely returned the next day in exchange for the Portuguese hostages, but Van Noort was obliged to leave the town without getting his provisions. Therefore a few days later he landed on a small island near the coast where he found water and fruit, and his men caught fish and wild birds and were happy. Again the Portuguese interfered. They had ordered a number of Indians to follow the Dutch fleet and do whatever damage they could. When a Dutch boat with six men came rowing to the shore it was suddenly attacked by a large number of Indians in canoes. Two of the six men were killed. The other four were taken prisoner and were never seen again.
Of course adventures of this sort were not very encouraging. Some of the officers suggested that, after all, it might be a better idea to discontinue the voyage around the South American coast before it was too late. They proposed that the ships should cross the Atlantic once more, and should either go to St. Helena and wait there until the next spring or should sail to India by way of the Cape of Good Hope; for it was now the month of March, and in that part of the world our summer is winter and our winter is summer. Wherefore they greatly feared that the ships could not reach the Strait of Magellan before the winter storms of July should set in. It was upon such occasions that Van Noort showed his courage and his resolute spirit. His expedition was in bad shape. One of the ships, the Eendracht, was leaking badly. Through the bad water, the hard work, and the insufficient food a large number of sailors had fallen ill, and every day some of them died. Wherever the expedition tried to land on the coast of Brazil to get water and supplies they found strong Portuguese detachments which drove them away. Not for a moment, however, did Van Noort dream of giving up his original plans.
At last, after many weeks and by mere chance, he found a little island called St. Clara where there were no Portuguese and no unfriendly natives and where he could build a fort on shore to land the sick men and cure them of their scurvy with fresh herbs. The expedition remained on Santa Clara for three weeks. Gradually the strength of the men returned, but they were still very weak, and it was now necessary that they should get plenty of exercise in the open air. Therefore the admiral ordered the kitchens to be built at a short distance from the fort. Those men who walked out to the kitchen got more dinner than those who demanded that their food be brought to them. Soon they all walked, and they greatly benefited by this little scheme of their commander. On June 28 they were able to go back to the ship, and then they set sail for the south. Two men, however, who had caused trouble since the beginning of the voyage and who seemed to be incorrigible were left behind on the island to get home as best they could. They never did. Even such a severe punishment was not a deterrent. A few days later a sailor attacked and wounded one of the officers with a knife. He was spiked to the mast with the same knife stuck through his right hand. Then he was left standing until he had pulled the knife out himself. It was a very rough crew, and only a system of discipline enforced in this cruel fashion saved the officers from being murdered and thrown overboard, so that the men might return home or become pirates.
I have just mentioned the bad condition of the Eendracht. The ship was so unseaworthy, and so great was the danger of drowning all on board, that Van Noort at last decided to sacrifice the vessel. The sailors were divided among the other ships, and the Eendracht was burned off the coast of Brazil.
Van Noort now reached the southern part of the American continent.
The Strait of Magellan had been discovered in 1530. But even in the year 1598 it was little known. The few mariners who had passed through had all told of the difficulty of navigating these narrows, with their swift currents running from ocean to ocean and their terrible storms, not to speak of the fog. Crossing from the Atlantic into the Pacific was therefore something which was considered a very difficult feat, and Van Noort did not dare to risk it with his ships in their bad condition. He made for the little Island of Porto Deseado, which Cavendish had discovered only a few years before. There was a sand-bank near the coast, and upon this the ships were anchored at high tide. Then, when the tide fell, the ships were left on the dry sand, and the men had several hours in which to clean, tar, and calk them and generally overhaul everything that needed repairing. On the shore of the island a regular smithy was constructed. For three months everybody worked hard to get the vessels in proper condition for the dangerous voyage.
While they were on the island the captain of the Hope died. He was buried with great solemnity, and the former captain of the Eendracht was made commander of the Hope, which was rebaptized the Eendracht. This word means harmony in Dutch, and the Good Lord knows that they needed harmony during the many difficult months which were to follow. On November 5, fourteen months after Van Noort left Holland, and when the number of his men had been reduced to 148, he at last reached the Strait of Magellan. The ship of the admiral entered the strait first, and was followed by the new Eendracht. The Henrick Frederick, however, commanded by Jacob Claesz, the vice-admiral, went her own way. Van Noort signaled to this ship to keep close to the Mauritius, but he never received an answer. Van Noort then ordered Claesz to come to the admiral's vessel and give an account of himself. The only answer which he received to that message was that Captain Claesz was just as good as Admiral van Noort, and was going to do just exactly what he pleased.
This was a case of open rebellion, but Van Noort was so busy navigating the difficult current that he could not stop to make an investigation. Four times his ship was driven back by the strong wind. At the fifth attempt the ship at last passed the first narrows and anchored well inside the strait. The next day they passed a high mountain which they called Cape Nassau, and where they saw many natives running toward the shore. The natives in the southern part of the continent were not like the ordinary Indian with whom the Hollanders were familiar. They were very strong and brave and caused the Hollanders much difficulty. They handled bows and arrows well, and their coats, made of skin, gave them a general appearance of greater civilization than anybody had expected to find in this distant part of the world. When the Dutch sailors rowed to the shore of the strait, the Indians attacked them at once. It was an unequal battle of arrows against bullets. The natives were driven back into their mountains, where they defended themselves in front of a large hollow rock. At last, however, all the men had been killed, and then the sailors discovered that the grotto was filled with many women and children. They did not harm these, but captured four small boys and two little girls to take home to Holland. It seems to have been an inveterate habit of early expeditions to distant countries to take home some natives as curiosities. Beginning with Columbus, every explorer had brought a couple of natives with him when he returned home. The poor things usually died of small-pox or consumption or some other civilized disease. In case they kept alive, they became a sort of nondescript town-curiosity. What Van Noort intended to do with little Patagonians in Rotterdam I do not know, but he had half a dozen on board when on November 28 his two ships reached the spot where they expected to find a strong Spanish castle.
This fortress, so they knew, had been built after the attack of Drake on the west coast of America. Drake's expedition had caused a panic among the Spanish settlements of Chile and Peru. Orders had come from Madrid to fortify the Strait of Magellan and close the narrows to all foreign vessels. A castle had been built and a garrison had been sent. Then, however, as happened often in Spain, the home government had forgotten all about this isolated spot. No provisions had been forwarded. The country itself, being barren and cold, did not raise anything which a Spaniard could eat. After a few years the castle had been deserted. When Cavendish sailed through the strait he had taken the few remaining cannon out of the ruins. Van Noort did not even find the ruins. Two whole months Van Noort spent in the strait. He took his time in this part of the voyage. He dropped anchor in a bay which he called Olivier's Bay, and there began to build some new life-boats.
After a few days the mutinous Henrick Frederick also appeared in this bay. Van Noort asked Claesz to come on board his ship and explain his strange conduct. The vice-admiral refused to obey. He was taken prisoner, and brought before a court-martial. We do not know the real grounds for the strange conduct of Claesz. He might have known that discipline in those days meant something brutally severe; and yet he disobeyed his admiral's positive orders, and when he was brought before the court-martial he could not or would not defend himself. He was found guilty, and he was condemned to be put on shore. He was given some bread and some wine, and when the fleet sailed away he was left behind all alone. There was of course a chance that another ship would pick him up. A few weeks before other Dutch ships had been in the strait. But this chance was a very small one, and the sailors of Van Noort knew it. They said a prayer for the soul of their former captain who was condemned to die a miserable death far away from home. Yet no one objected to this punishment. Navigation to the Indies in the sixteenth century was as dangerous as war, and insubordination could not be tolerated, not even when the man who refused to obey orders was one of the original investors of the expedition and second in command.
On the twenty-ninth of February Van Noort reached the Pacific. The last mile from the strait into the open sea took him four weeks. He now sailed northward along the coast of South America. Two weeks later, during a storm, the Henrick Frederick disappeared. Such an occurrence had been foreseen. Van Noort had told his captains to meet him near the island of Santa Maria in case they should become separated from him during the night or in a fog. Therefore he did not worry about the fate of the ship, but sailed for the coast of Chile.
After a short visit and a meeting with some natives, who told him that they hated the Spaniards and welcomed the Hollanders as their defenders against the Spanish oppressors, Van Noort reached the island of Santa Maria. In the distance he saw a ship. Of course he thought that this must be his own lost vessel waiting for him; but when he came near, the strange ship hoisted her sails and fled. It was a Spaniard called the Buen Jesus. The Dutch admiral could not allow this ship to escape. It might have warned the Spanish admiral in Lima, and then Van Noort would have been obliged to fight the entire Spanish Pacific fleet. The Eendracht was ordered to catch the Buen Jesus. This she did, for the Dutch ships could sail faster than the Spanish ones, though they were smaller. Van Noort had done wisely. The Spaniard was one of a large fleet detailed to watch the arrival of the Dutch vessels. The year before another Dutch fleet had reached the Pacific. It suffered a defeat at the hands of the Spaniards. This had served as a warning. The Hollanders did not have the reputation of giving up an enterprise when once they had started upon it, and the Spanish fleet was kept cruising in the southern part of the Pacific to destroy whatever Dutch ships might try to enter the private domains of Spain.
From that moment Van Noort's voyage and his ships in the Pacific were as safe as a man smoking a pipe in a powder-magazine. They might be destroyed at any moment. As a best means of defense, the Hollanders decided to make a great show of strength. They did not wait for the assistance of the Henrick Frederick, but sailed at once to Valparaiso, took several Spanish ships anchored in the roads, and burned all of the others except one, which was added to the Dutch fleet. From the captain of the Buen Jesus Van Noort had heard that a number of Hollanders were imprisoned in the castle of Valparaiso. He sent ashore, asking for information, and he received letters from a Dutchman, asking for help.
Van Noort, however, was too weak to attack the town, but he thought that something might be done in this case through kindness. So he set all the crew of the Buen Jesus except the mate free, and him he kept as an hostage, and sent the men to the Spanish commander with his compliments. Thereupon he continued his voyage, but was careful to stay away from Lima, where he knew there were three large Spanish vessels waiting for him. Instead of that, he made for the Cape of San Francisco, where he hoped to capture the Peruvian silver fleet. Quite accidentally, however, he discovered that he was about to run into another trap. Some Negro slaves who had been on board the Buen Jesus, and who were now with Van Noort, spread the rumor that more than fifty thousand pounds of gold which had been on the Buen Jesus had been thrown overboard just before the Hollanders captured the vessel. The mate of the ship was still on the Mauritius, and he was asked if this was true. He denied it, but he denied it in such a fashion that it was hard to believe him. Therefore he was tortured. Not very much, but just enough to make him desirous of telling the truth. He then told that the gold had actually been on board the Buen Jesus; and since he was once confessing, he volunteered further information, and now told Van Noort that the captain of the Buen Jesus and he had arranged to warn the Spanish fleet to await the Hollanders near Cape San Francisco and to attack them there while the Hollanders were watching the coast of Peru for the Peruvian silver fleet. No further information was wanted, and the Spaniard was released. He might have taken this episode as a warning to be on his good behavior. Thus far he had been well treated. He slept and took his meals in Van Noort's own cabin. But soon afterward he tried to start a mutiny among the Negro slaves who had served with him on the Spanish man-of-war. Without further trial he was then thrown overboard.
The expedition against the silver fleet, however, had to be given up. It would have been too dangerous. It became necessary to leave the eastern part of the Pacific and to cross to the Indies as fast as possible. The Spanish ship which had been captured in Valparaiso proved to be a bad sailor and was burned. The two Dutch ships, with a crew of about a hundred men, sailed alone for the Marianne Islands. Some travelers have called these islands the Ladrones. That means the islands of the Thieves, and the natives who came flocking out to the ships showed that they deserved this designation. They were very nimble-fingered, and they stole whatever they could find. They would climb on board the ships of Van Noort, take some knives or merely a piece of old iron, and before anybody could prevent them they had dived overboard and had disappeared under water. All day long their little canoes swarmed around the Dutch ships. They offered many things for sale, but they were very dishonest in trade, and the rice they sold was full of stones, and the bottoms of their rice baskets were filled with cocoanuts. Two days were spent getting fresh water and buying food, and then Van Noort sailed for the Philippine Islands. On the fourteenth of October of the year 1600 he landed on the eastern coast of Luzon. By this time the Dutch ships were in the heart of the Spanish colonies, and it was necessary to be very careful not to be detected as Hollanders. The natives on shore, who had seen them in the distance, warned the Spanish authorities, and early in the morning a sloop rowed by natives brought a Spanish officer.