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DUTCH AND ENGLISH ON THE HUDSON CHAPTER
I UP
THE
GREAT RIVER
GEOGRAPHY
IS the
maker of history. The course of Dutch settlement in America was
predetermined
by a river which runs its length of a hundred and fifty miles from the
mountains to the sea through the heart of a fertile country and which
offers a
natural highway for transportation of merchandise and for communication
between
colonies. No man, however, could foresee the development of the Empire
State
when, on that memorable September day in 1609, a small Dutch yacht
named the Halve Maene
or Half Moon, under
the command of Captain Henry Hudson,
slipped in past the low hook of sand in front of the Navesink Heights,
and
sounded her way to an now the outer harbor of New York. Robert
Juet of
Limehouse, one of the adventurers sailing with Hudson, writes in his
journal: At three of the clock in the afternoone we came to three great rivers, so we stood along to the northermost, thinking to have gone into it; but we found it to have a very shoald barre before it, for we had but ten foot water; then wee cast about to the southward and found two fathoms, three fathoms, and three and a quarter, till we came to the souther side of them; then we had five and sixe fathoms and anchored. So wee sent in our boate to sound and they found no lesse water than foure, five, six, and seven fathoms and returned in an hour and a half. So wee weighed and went in and rode in five fathoms, oozie ground, and saw many salmons, mullets and rayes very great. So quietly
is
chronicled one of the epoch-making events of history, an event which
opened a
rich territory and gave to the United Netherlands their foothold in the
New
World, where Spain, France, and England had already established their
claims. Let us try
to call
to our minds the picture of the Half
Moon
as she lies there in harbor, a quaint, clumsily built boat of forty
lasts, or
eighty tons, burden. From her bow projects a beakhead, a sort of
gallery,
painted and carved, and used as a place of rest or of punishment for
the
sailors. At the tip of the beakhead is the figurehead, a red lion with
a golden
mane. The ship’s bow is green, with ornaments of sailors’ heads painted
red and
yellow. Both forecastle and poop are high, the latter painted a blue
mottled
with white clouds. The stern below is rich in color and carving. Its
upper
panels show a blue ground picked out with stars and set in it a
crescent
holding a profile of the traditional Man in the Moon. The panel below
bears the
arms of the City of Amsterdam and the letters V. O. C. forming the
monogram of
the Dutch East India Company — Vereenigde OostIndische Compagnie. Five
carved heads
uphold the stern, above which hangs one of those ornate lanterns which
the
Dutch love so well. To add to all this wealth of color, flags are
flying from
every masthead. At the foretop flutters the tricolor of red, white, and
black,
with the arms of Amsterdam in a field of white. At the maintop flames
the flag
of the seven provinces of the Netherlands, emblazoned with a red lion
rampant,
bearing in his paws a sword and seven arrows. The bowsprit bears a
small flag
of orange, white, and blue, while from the stern flies the Dutch East
India
Company’s special banner. It is no wonder that such an apparition
causes the
simple natives ashore to believe first that some marvelous bird has
swept in
from the sea, and then that a mysterious messenger from the Great
Spirit has
appeared in all his celestial robes. If Hudson’s object had been stage-setting for the benefit of the natives, he could not have arranged his effects better. The next day, when the ship had moved to a good harbor, the people of the country were allowed to come aboard to barter “greene Tabacco” for knives and beads. Hudson probably thought that the savages might learn a lesson in regard to the power of the newcomers by an inspection of the interior of the ship. The cannon which protruded their black noses amidships held their threat of destruction even when they were not belching thunder and lightning. The forecastle with its neatly arranged berths must have seemed a strange contrast to the bare ground on which the savages were accustomed to sleep, and the brightness of polished and engraved brass tablets caught the untutored eyes which could not decipher the inscriptions. There were three of these tablets, the mottoes of which, being translated, read: Honor thy father and thy mother! Do not fight without cause! Good advice makes the wheels run smoothly! Perhaps the thing
which interested the Indians most was the great wooden block fastened
to the
deck behind the mainmast. This strange object was fashioned in the
shape of a
man’s head, and through it passed the ropes used to hoist the yards. It
was
called sometimes “the silent servant,” sometimes “the knighthead.” To
the
Indians it must have seemed the final touch of necromancy, and they
were
prepared to bow down in awe before a race of beings who could thus make
blocks
of wood serve them. Trusting,
no doubt,
to the impression which he had made on the minds of the natives, Hudson
decided
to go ashore. The Indians crowded around him and “sang in their
fashion” — a
motley horde, as strange to the ship’s crew as the Half Moon and its company
seemed marvelous to the
aborigines. Men, women, and children, dressed in fur or tricked out
with
feathers, stood about or floated in their boats hewn from solid logs,
the men
carrying pipes of red copper in which they smoked that precious
product,
tobacco — the consolation prize offered by the New World to the Old in
lieu of
the hoped-for passage to Cathay. Everything
seemed
to breathe assurance of peaceful relations between the red man and the
white;
but if the newcomers did not at the moment realize the nature of the
Indians,
their eyes were opened to possibilities of treachery by the happenings
of the
next day. John Colman and a boat’s crew were sent out to take further
soundings
before the Half Moon
should.
proceed on her journey. As the boat was returning to report a safe
course
ahead, the crew, only five in number, were set upon by two war-canoes
filled
with Indians, whose volley of arrows struck terror to their hearts.
Colman was
mortally wounded in the throat by an arrow, and two of his companions
were
seriously, though not fatally, hurt. Keeping up a running fight, the
survivors
escaped under cover of darkness. During the night, as they crouched
with their
dead comrade in the boat, the sailors must have thought the minutes
hours and
the hours days. To add to their discomfort rain was failing, and they
drifted
forlornly at the mercy of the current. When at last dawn came, they
could make
out the ship at a great distance; but it was ten o’clock in the morning
before
they reached her safe shelter. So ended the brief dream of ideal
friendship and
confidence between the red men and the whites. After
Colman had
been buried in a grave by the side of the beautiful sheet of water
which he had
known for so short a time, the Half
Moon
worked her way cautiously from the Lower Bay through the Narrows to the
inner
harbor and reached the tip of the island which stands at its head. What
is now
a bewildering mass of towers and palaces of industry, looking down upon
a
far-extended fleet of steam and sailing vessels, was then a point,
wooded to
the water’s edge, with a scattered Indian village nestling among the
trees. A Moravian
missionary, writing at the beginning of the nineteenth century, set
down an
account from the red man’s point of view of the arrival of the Half Moon. This account he
claimed to have
received from old Indians who held it as part of their tribal
traditions. As
such it is worth noting and quoting, although as history it is of more
than
doubtful authenticity. The tradition runs that the chiefs of the
different
tribes on sighting the Half Moon
supposed it to be a supernatural visitor and assembled on “York Island”
to
deliberate on the manner in which they should receive this Manito on
his
arrival. Plenty of meat was provided for a sacrifice, a grand dance was
arranged, and the medicine-men were set to work to determine the
phenomenon.
The runners sent out to observe and report declared it certain that it
was the
Great Manito, “but other runners soon after arriving, declare it a
large house
of various colors, full of people yet of quite a different color than
they [the
Indians] are of. That they were also dressed in a different manner from
them
and that one in particular appeared altogether red, which must be the
Mannitto
himself.” The
strange craft
stopped and a smaller boat drew near. While some stayed behind to guard
the
boat, the red-clothed man with two others advanced into a large circle
formed
by the Indian chiefs and wise men. He saluted them and they returned
the
salute. A large hock-hack [Indian for gourd or bottle] is brought forward by the supposed Mannitto’s servants and from this a substance is poured out into a small cup or glass and handed to the Mannitto. The expected Mannitto drinks, has the glass filled again and hands it to the chief next him to drink. The chief receives the glass but only smelleth at it and passes it on to the next chief who does the same. The glass then passes through the circle without the contents being tasted by anyone, and is upon the point of being returned again to the redclothed man when one of their number, a spirited man and a great warrior jumps up and harangues the assembly on the impropriety of returning the glass with the contents in it — that the same was handed them by the Mannitto in order that they should drink it as he himself had done before them — that this would please him; but that to return it might provoke him and be the cause of their being destroyed by him. He then took the glass and bidding the assembly a farewell, drank it up. Every eye was fixed on their resolute companion to see what an effect this would have upon him and he soon beginning to stagger about and at last dropping to the ground they bemoan him. He falls into a sleep and they saw him as expiring. He awakes again, jumps up and declares that he never felt himself before so happy as. after he had drank the cup. Wishes for more. His wish is granted and the whole assembly soon join him and become intoxicated. The
Delawares, as
the missionary points out further, call New York Island
“Mannahattanik,” “the
place where we were all drunk.” With this picturesque account let us
contrast
the curt statement of Robert Juet: “This morning at our first rode in
the River
there came eight and twenty canoes full of men, women and children to
betray
us; but we saw their intent and suffered none of them to come aboord of
us. At,
twelve of the clocke they departed. They brought with them oysters and
beanes
whereof we bought some.” If there had been any such striking scene as
the
missionary chronicle reports, Juet would probably have recorded it; but
in addition
to his silence in the matter we must recall the fact that this
love-feast is
supposed to have occurred only a few days after the killing of Colman
and the
return of the terror-stricken crew. This makes it seem extremely
improbable
that Hudson would have taken the risk of going ashore among hostile
natives and
proffering the hospitalities which had been so ill requited on his
previous
landing. Let us therefore pass by the Reverend John Heckwelder’s
account as
“well found, but not well founded,” and continue to follow the cruise
of the Half Moon up
the great river. The days
now were
fair and warm, and Hudson, looking around him when the autumn sun had
swept
away the haze from the face of the water, declared it as fair a land as
could
be trodden by the foot of man. He left Manhattan Island behind, passed
the site
of Yonkers, and was carried by a southeasterly wind beyond the
Highlands till
he reached what is now West Point. In this region of the Catskills the
Dutch
found the natives friendly, and, having apparently recovered from their
first
suspicious attitude, the explorers began to open barter and exchange
with such
as wished to come aboard. On at least one occasion Hudson himself went
ashore.
The early Dutch writer, De Laet, who used Hudson’s last journal, quotes
at
length Hudson’s description of this landing, and the quotation, if
genuine, is
probably the longest description of his travels that we have from the
pen of
the great navigator. He says that he sailed to the shore in one of
their
canoes, with an old man who was chief of a tribe. There he found a
house of oak
bark, circular in shape, apparently well built, and with an arched
roof. On our coming near the house, two mats were spread to sit upon and immediately some food was served in well-made red wooden bowls; two men were also dispatched at once with bows and arrows in quest of game, who soon after brought a pair of pigeons which they had shot. They likewise killed at once a fat dog and skinned it in great haste, with shells which they get out of the water…. The natives are a very good people, for when they saw that I would not remain, they supposed that I was afraid of their bows, and taking the arrows they broke them in pieces and threw them into the fire. So the Half Moon drifted along “the River of the Steep Hills,”
through the
golden autumnal weather, now under frowning cliffs, now skirting low
sloping
shores and fertile valleys, till at length the shoaling water warned
Hudson
that he could not penetrate much farther. He knew now that he had
failed to
find the northwest passage to Cathay which had been the object of his
expedition; but he had explored one of the world’s noblest rivers from
its
mouth to the head of its navigable waters. It is a
matter of
regret to all students that so little is known of this great
adventurer. Sober
history tells us that no authentic portrait of him is extant; but I
like to
figure him to myself as drawn by that mythical chronicler, Diedrich
Knickerbocker, who was always ready to help out fact with fiction and
both with
humor. He pictures Henry Hudson as “a short, brawny old gentleman with
a double
chin, a mastiff mouth and a broad copper nose which was supposed in
those days
to have acquired its fiery hue from the constant neighborhood of his
tobacco
pipe. He wore a true Andrea Ferrara, tucked in a leathern belt, and a
commodore’s cocked hat on one side of his head. He was remarkable for
always
jerking up his breeches when he gave his orders and his voice sounded
not
unlike the brattling of a tin trumpet, owing to the number of hard
northwesters
which he had swallowed in the course of his sea-faring.” This
account
accords with our idea of this doughty navigator far better than the
popular
picture of the forlorn white-bearded old gentleman amid the arctic
ice-floes.
The cause of the fiery nose seems more likely to have been spirits than
tobacco, for Hudson was well acquainted with the effects of strong
waters. At
one stage of his journey he was responsible for an incident which may
perhaps
have given rise to the Indian legend of the mysterious potations
attending the
first landing of the white men. Hudson invited certain native chiefs to
the
ship and so successfully plied them with brandy that they were
completely
intoxicated. One fell asleep and was deserted by his comrades, who,
however,
returned next day and were rejoiced to find the victim professing great
satisfaction over his experience. The ship
had now
reached the northernmost bounds of her exploration and anchored at a
point not
exactly determined but not far below Albany. Hudson sent an exploring
boat a
little farther, and on its return he put the helm of the Half Moon about and headed the
red lion
with the golden mane southward. On this homeward course, the
adventurers met
with even more exciting experiences than had marked their progress up
the
river. At a place near the mouth of Haverstraw Bay at Stony Point the Half Moon was becalmed and a
party of
Mountain Indians came off in canoes to visit the ship. Here they showed
the
cunning and the thieving propensities of which Hudson accused them, for
while
some engaged the attention of the crew on deck, one of their number ran
his
canoe under the stern and contrived to climb by the aid of the
rudder-post into
the cabin. To
understand how
this theft was carried out it is necessary to remember the build of the
seventeenth century Dutch sailing-vessels in which the forecastle and
poop rose
high above the waist of the ship. In the poop were situated the cabins
of the
captain and the mate. Of Hudson’s cabin we have a detailed description.
Its
height was five feet three inches. It was provided with lockers, a
berth, a
table, and a bench with four divisions, a most desirable addition when
the
vessel lurched suddenly. Under the berth were a box of books and a
medicine-chest,
besides such other equipment as a globe, a compass, a silver sun-dial,
a cross
staff, a brass tinder-box, pewter plates, spoons, a mortar and pestle,
and the
half-hour glass which marked the different watches on deck. Doubtless
the
savage intruder would have been glad to capture some of this rich
booty; but it
must have been the mate’s cabin into which he stumbled, for be obtained
only a
pillow and a couple of shirts, for which he sold his life. The window
in the
stern projecting over the water was evidently standing open in order to
admit
the soft September air, and the Indian saw his chance. Into this window
he
crept and from it started to make off with the stolen goods; but the
mate saw
the thief, shot, and killed him. Then all was a scene of wild
confusion. The
savages scattered from the ship, some taking to their canoes, some
plunging
into the river. The small boat was sent in pursuit of the stolen goods,
which
were soon recovered; but, as the boat returned, a red hand reached up
from the
water to upset it, whereupon the ship’s cook, seizing a sword, cut off
the hand
as it gripped the gunwale, and the wretched owner sank never to
reappear. On the
following
day Hudson and his men came into conflict with more than a hundred
savages, who
let loose a flight of arrows. But one of the ship’s cannon was trained
upon
them, and one shot followed by a discharge of musketry quickly ended
the
battle. The mariners thereupon made their way without molestation to
the mouth
of the river, whence they put to sea on a day in early October, only a
month
after their entrance into the bay. Hudson was
destined
never again to see the country from which he set out on this quest,
never again
to enter the river which he had explored. But he had achieved immortal
fame for
himself and had secured a new empire for the Netherlands. The Cabots
possibly,
and Verrazano almost certainly, had visited the locality of “the Great
River”
before him; but Hudson was in the truest sense its discoverer, and
history has
accorded him his rights. Today the replica of the Half Moon lies in a quiet
backwater of the Hudson River at
the foot of Bear Mountain — stripped of her gilding, her sails, and her
gay
pennants. She still makes a unique appeal to our imagination as we
fancy the
tiny original buffeting the ocean waves and feeling her way along
uncharted
waters to the head of navigation. To see even the copy is to feel the
thrill of
adventure and to realize the boldness of those early mariners whom
savages
could not affright nor any form of danger daunt.1 ____________________________ 1 For
further
details of the appearance of the Half
Moon,
see E. H. Hall’s paper on Henry
Hudson and
the Discovery of the Hudson River, published by the American
Scenic
and Historic Preservation Society (1910). |