 | The first voyage of Robert Baker to Guinie, with the Minion, and Primrose, set out in October, 1562 |  |
The first voyage of Robert Baker to Guinie, with the Minion, and Primrose, set out in October, 1562. by Sir William Garrard, Sir William Chester, M. Thomas Lodge, Anthony Hickman, & Edward Castelin.
As men whose heads be fraughtwith care, have seldom rest:
(For through the head the body strait
with sorowes is opprest:)
So I that late on bed
lay wake, for that the watch
Pursued mine eye, and causde my hed
no sleepe at all to catch:
To thinke upon my chaunce
which hath me now betide,
To lie a prisoner here in France,
for raunsome where I bide:
And feeling still such thoughts
so thicke in head to runne,
As in the sommer day the moats
doe fall into the Sunne,
To walke then up I rose,
fansie to put to flight:
And thus a while I doe purpose
to passe away the night.
Morpheus I perceiv'd
had small regarde of me,
Therefore I should be but deceiv'd
on bed longer to lie.
And thus without delay
rising as voide of sleepe,
I horned Cynthia sawe streight way
in at my grate to peepe:
Who passing on her way,
eke knowing well my case,
How I in darke dungeon there lay
alwaies looking for grace:
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in darke withouten light,
She wipte her face, and straight did show
the best countnance she might:
Astonneth eke my head
and senses for a space,
And olde fansies away now fled
she putteth new in place.
Then leaning in my grate
wherein full bright she shinde,
And viewing her thus on her gate
she mazeth streight my minde:
And makes me thinke anon
how oft in Ginnie lande
She was my frend, when I have gone
all night upon the sande,
Walking and watching este
least any boate or ship
At any time, while we had slept
perhaps by us might slip.
And streight with ardent fire
my head inflameth shee,
Eke me inspires with whole desire
to put in memorie,
Those daungers I have bid
and Laberinth that I
Have past without the clue of threede,
eke harder ieopardie.
I then gin take in hand
straight way to put in rime,
Such travell, as in Ginnie lande
I have past in my time.
But having writte a while
I fall faint by the way,
And eke at night I lothe that stile
which I have writte that day.
And thinke my doings then
unworthy sure, to be
Set forth in print before all men,
for every one to see.
Eke with dispaire therefore
my pen I cast away,
And did intende this never more
hereafter to assay.
My fellow prisoner then
sir Edward Gages sonne
Willes me to take againe my pen
and ende that I begonne.
By this our friends (sayth he)
shall right well understande.
And knowe the great travels that we
have past in Heathen lande.
Take pen therefore againe
in hande, I you require,
And thinke (saith he) thereof no paine
to graunt this my desire.
Then once againe my hed
my hand a worke doth sette:
But first I fall upon my bed
and there deepe sighes I sette,
To see that this to talke
is given me silly wight:
And of Minerva helpe I aske
that she me teach aright.
Helpe now without delay,
helpe, helpe, ye Muses nine,
O Cleo, and Calliope,
shewe me how to define
In condigne stile and phrase
eche thing in every line,
To you I give loe all the praise
the travell only mine.
Give eare then ye that long
to know of my estate,
Which am in France in prison strong
as I wrote home of late:
Against all lawe or right
as I doe thinke in deede,
Sith that the warre is ended quite,
and peace is well agreed.
Yet least perchaunce you might
much marvell, how that I
Into a Frenchmans powre should light
in prison here to lie:
Give nowe attentive heede,
a straunge tale gin I tell,
How I this yeare have bene besteede,
scaping the gates of hell,
More harde I thinke truly,
in more daunger of life,
Than olde Orpheus did when he
through hell did seeke his wife,
Whose musike so did sounde
in pleasant play of string,
That Cerberus that hellish hounde
(who as the Poets sing
Having three huge heads great,
which doe continually
Still breath out firy flames of heate
most horrible to see)
Did give him leave to passe
in at the gates of Hell:
Of which gate he chiefe porter was
the Poets thus me tell.
And how he past alone
through great king Plutos Court
Yea ferried over with Charon
and yet he did no hurt.
Well to my purpose now,
in Hell what hurt had hee:
Perchance he might strange sights inow
and ugly sprits there see:
Perhaps eke Tantalus,
there making of his mone,
Who starv'd always: and Sysiphus
still rolling up the stone.
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and went still on his way,
There was no torment came him nigh
or heate to make him stay.
And I a Gods name woulde
at hazarde play my life
In Guinie lande, to seeke for golde,
as Orpheus sought his wife.
At which saide lande of Guinie
I was eke once before,
And scapt the death as narowly
as Orpheus did and more.
Which first ill lucke will I
recite, then iudge you plaine,
If Iove plagued me not now rightly
this yeare to goe againe.
The other yeere before
when Neptune us had brought
Safely unto that burning shore,
for which so long we sought
One day when shippe was fast
in sea at anker holde,
The sailes upfirll'd, all businesse past
the boteswaine then I tolde,
That he forthwith shoulde see
the small pinnesse well mande,
Eke all things therin prest to be
that we shoulde have a lande,
And gunner see that ye
want not bowe, pike, or bill,
Your ordinance well primed be
with lintstocks burning still.
With merchandize a shore,
we hied to traffike then,
Making the sea fome us before,
by force of nine good men.
And rowing long, at last
a river we espie,
In at the which we bare full fast
to see what there might be.
And entring in, we see
a number of blacke soules,
Whose likelinesse seem'd men to be,
but all as blacke as coles.
Their Captaine comes to me
as naked as my naile,
Not having witte or honestie
to cover once his taile.
By which I doe here gesse
and gather by the way,
That he from man and manlinesse
was voide and cleane astray.
And sitting in a trough,
a boate made of a logge,
The very same wherein you know
we use to serve a hogge.
Aloofe he staide at first,
put water to his cheeke,
A signe that he would not us trust
unlesse we did the like.
That signe we did likewise,
to put him out of feare,
And shewd him much brave marchandise
to make him come us neare.
The wilde man then did come,
by signes nowe crieth the fiend
Of those gay things to give him some
and I should be his friend.
I traffikt there that time
for such things as they had,
At night to ship I caried him,
where I with clothes him clad,
Yea, made him there good cheere,
and he by signes againe
Tolde us that he would fraight us then
after a day or twaine.
And eene thus as we were
in talke, looking about,
Our boate he sawe with wares that there
was tied at sterne without:
Which boate he viewing still,
as then well stuft with ware,
We thinking he had ment no ill,
had thereof little care.
And the next morne, againe
we caried him a shore,
Eke bartred there that day with them
as we had done before,
But when Phœbus began
some what for to draw neare
To Icarus his Court, the sonne
of Dedalus most deare,
(Whose chaunce it is to dwell
amids the Ocean flood,
Because that he observ'd not well
his fathers counsell good)
We then with saile and ore
to ship began to hie,
That we might fetch aboorde, before
the day had lost his eye.
To ship we come at last
which rid foure leagues from shore
Refresht us after travaile past,
taken that day before.
Then, as it was our guise,
our boate at sterne we tie,
Eke therein leave our marchandise,
as they were wont to be.
With troughes then twa or three
this Captaine comes by night
Aboord our boate, where he with wares
himselfe now fraighteth quight.
The watch nowe hearing this,
the boate they hal'd up fast:
But gone was all the marchandise,
and they escapte and past.
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againe we went to shore,
Amends to have for that which they
had stolne the night before.
But all in vaine was it,
our signes were now too bad,
They would not understand a whit
of any thing they had.
But as though they had wrong
for to revenged be,
As we row'd downe the streame along
after comes hee and hee.
A hundred boats come fro
the steremost towne I say,
At least meets us as many mo
before, to make us stay.
In every boat two men,
and great long targets twaine:
Most of their darts had long strings then
to picke and pull againe.
Now gunners to your charge,
give fier all arow,
Ech slave for feare forsakes his barge,
and ducks in water low.
We downe the streame amaine
do row to get the sea,
They overtake us soone againe,
and let us of our way.
Then did the slaves draw neere,
with dart and target thicke,
With divelish fired eyes they peere
where they their darts may sticke.
Now Mariners do push
with right good will the pike,
The haileshot of the harquebush
the naked slave doth strike.
Through targe and body right
that downe he falleth dead
His fellow then in heavie plight,
doth swimme away afraid.
To bathe in brutish bloud,
then fleeth the graygoose wing,
The halberders at hand be good,
and hew that all doth ring.
Yet gunner play thy part,
make haileshot walke againe,
And fellowes row with like good heart
that we may get the maine.
Our arrowes all now spent,
the Negros gan approch:
But pikes in hand already bent
the blacke beast fast doth broch.
Their captaine being wood,
a villaine long and large,
With pois'ned dart in hand doth shroud
himselfe under his targe.
And hard aboord he comes
to enter in our boat,
Our maisters mate, his pike eftsoones
strikes though his targe and throat.
The capteine now past charge
of this brutish blacke gard,
His pike he halde backe which in targe
alas was fixed hard:
And wresting it with might,
to pull it forth in hast,
A deadly dart strikes him too right
and in his flesh sticks fast,
He stands still like a man,
and shrinkes not once therfore,
But strikes him with his owne dart then
which shot at him before.
Then presse they on and shake
their darts on every side,
Which in our flesh doth light, and make
both deadly wounds and wide.
The gunner in that stound
with two darts strooke at last,
Shrinks not yet though the double wound
with streames of bloud out brast.
And eke the maisters mate,
of stomacke bolde and stout,
For all his wound receiv'd of late,
yet stirred not a foot.
But kept his standing still,
till that a deathfull dart
Did strike him though the ribs so ill,
that scarce it mist his hart.
The dart out hal'd quickly,
his guts came out withall,
And so great streames of bloud that he
for faintnesse downe gan fall.
The Negros seeing this,
how he for dead doth lie,
Who erst so valiant prov'd twis,
they gladly shout and crie:
And then do minde as there
to enter in his place,
They thinke so many wounded were
the rest would yeld for grace.
We then stand by the pike,and foure row on our boat,
Their darts among us fast they strike
that few were free I wot.
In legge and eke in thigh,
some wounded eke in th'arme,
Yea many darts stucke us hard by,
that mist and did no harme.
By little thus at last,
in great danger of life
We got the sea and almost past
the danger erst so rife.
Then gin they all retire
sith all their darts were spent
They had nought to revenge their ire,
and thus away they went,
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where two ores make soft way
Sixe of us nine were wounded so,
the seventh for dead there lay.
Lo, heare how cruelly
the fiends ment us to kill,
Causelesse you see, if they truly
on us might had their will.
And yet we gave before
much merchandise away.
Among those slaves, thinking therfore
to have friendship for aye.
And Orpheus past I wot
the passage quietly,
Among the soules in Charons boat,
and yet to say truly
I never read that he
paid for his passage there,
Who past and repast for to see
if that his wife there were.
Nor yet that he paid ought,
or any bribe there gave
To any office, while he sought
his wife againe to have.
Whereby I surely gesse
these men with whom that we
Have had to do are fiends more fierce
then those in hell that be.
Well we now scaping thus
the danger I have tolde,
Aboord we come, where few of us
could stand now being colde.
Our wounds now being drest,
to meat went they that list,
But I desired rather rest,
for this in minde I wist.
That if I might get once
a sleepe that were full sound,
I should not feele my weary bones
nor yet my smarting wound.
And lying long aloft
upon my bed in paine,
Unto Morpheus call'd I oft
that he would not disdaine
To heare me then poore wight,
but send me helpe with speed
That I might have good rest this night
of which I had great need.
Me thought then by and by,
there hung a heavie waight,
At ech eye lid, which clos'd mine eye,
and eke my head was fraight.
And being streight a sleepe,
I fell into a sweauen,
That of my wound I tooke no keepe
I dreamd'd I was in heaven.
Where as me thought I see
god Mars in armor bright,
His arming sword naked holdes he
in hand, ready to fight.
Castor and Pollux there
all complet stand him by,
Least if that Mars convinced were
they might revenged be.
Then came marching along
the great blacke smith Vulcan,
Having a staffe of yron strong,
and thus at last began:
O Mars, thou God of might,
what is the cause that thou
Hast chaleng'd me with thee to fight':
lo present am I now.
Wherfore if that thou hast
any great grudge to me,
Before this day be spent and past
it shall revenged be.
Then spake god Mars and said,
for that thou churlish wight,
Thy brutish blacke people hast made
with those white men to fight
Which cal'd on me for aid,
I bid thee warre for this.
Then answered Vulcan straight and said
that that coast sure was his.
And therefore he would still
his blacke burnt men defend,
And if he might, all other kill
which to that coast did wend,
Yea thus (said he) in boast
that we his men had slaine,
And ere that we should passe this coast
he would us kill againe.
Now marcheth Mars amaine
and fiercely gins to fight,
The sturdie smith strikes free againe
whose blowes dint where they light,
But Iupiter that sat
in his great royall throne
Hearing this noise marvell'd thereat,
and streight way sendeth one
To know the cause thereof:
but hearing them in fight,
Commandeth them for to leave off
by vertue of his might,
And of Vulcan demands
the cause: then answered he,
O mightie Iove whose power commands
and rules all things that be,
Who at a word hast power
all things to destroy cleane,
And in the moment of an houre,
canst them restore againe,
The same God licence me
to speake now here my minde:
It is not, Ioue, unknowne to thee,
how that I was assign'd,
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of all the Ginnie land,
A people lo is on my coast
which doth me now withstand.
They do my people strike.
they do this day them kill,
To whom I minde to do the like
if I may have my will.
Then Iupiter bespake:
O Vulcan then said he,
Let this thy rage and anger slake
for this time presently,
But if at any time
these men chance there againe,
Doe as thou list, the charge is thine
I will not meddle then.
I know them well (said he)
these men need not to seeke.
They have so fruitfull a countrey
that there is none the like.
But if they can not be
therewith content but still
Will seeke for golde so covetously,
worke then with them thy will.
And therewith straight doth send
a pursuiuant in post,
To whom (saith he) see that thou wend
unto the windie coast,
To Eolus, the king
command him thus from me,
That he straight way without lingring
do set at libertie,
His servant Zephirus,
which now is lockt so low,
Eke that he do command him thus,
that he straight way do go
To Vulcans coast in hast,
a ship where he shall finde,
Which ship he must with gentle blast
and eke with moderate winde,
Conduct safe to that coast
which Albion was hight,
And that no stormes do them withstand
by day or eke by night,
I sleeping all this space,
as it were in a trance,
The noise of them that hal'd apace
did waken me by chance.
Then looking out to know
what winde did blow in skie,
The maister straight came to me tho
and thus said by and by.
All our ill lucke is past,
we have a merie winde,
I hope England, if this winde last,
yet once againe to finde.
When this I understand,
to Iove I vowed then,
Forswearing cleane the Ginnie land
for comming there againe.
And passing on in post
with favorable windes,
We all arriv'd on Englands coast
with passing cheerefull mindes.
| The first voyage of Robert Baker to Guinie, with the Minion, and Primrose, set out in October, 1562 | |