University of Virginia Library

1. CHAP. I.

In the ever memorable year of our Lord 1609,
on the five and twentieth day of March (O. S.)—a
fine Saturday morning, when jocund Phœbus, having
his face newly washed, by gentle dews and
spring time showers, looked from the glorious windows
of the east, with a more than usually shining
countenance—“that worthy and irrecoverable discoverer,
Master Henry Hudson” set sail from Holland
in a stout vessel,[1] called the Half Moon, being
employed by the Dutch East India Company, to
seek a north-west passage to China.

Of this celebrated voyage we have a narration
still extant, written with true log-book brevity, by
master Robert Juet of Lime house, mate of the vessel;
who was appointed historian of the voyage,
partly on account of his uncommon literary talents,
but chiefly, as I am credibly informed, because he
was a countryman and schoolfellow of the great
Hudson, with whom he had often played truant and
sailed chip boats, when he was a little boy. I am
enabled however to supply the deficiencies of master
Juet's journal, by certain documents furnished
me by very respectable Dutch families, as likewise
by sundry family traditions, handed down from my
great great Grandfather, who accompanied the expedition
in the capacity of cabin boy.

From all that I can learn, few incidents worthy
of remark happened in the voyage; and it mortifies
me exceedingly that I have to admit so noted
an expedition into my work, without making any
more of it.—Oh! that I had the advantages of that
most authentic writer of yore, Apollonius Rhodius,
who in his account of the famous Argonautic expedition,
has the whole mythology at his disposal,
and elevates Jason and his compeers into heroes
and demigods; though all the world knows them
to have been a meer gang of sheep stealers, on a
marauding expedition—or that I had the privileges
of Dan Homer and Dan Virgil to enliven my narration,
with giants and Lystrigonians, to entertain

our honest mariners with an occasional concert of
syrens and mermaids, and now and then with the
rare shew of honest old Neptune and his fleet of
frolicksome cruisers. But alas! the good old times
have long gone by, when your waggish deities
would descend upon the terraqueous globe, in
their own proper persons, and play their pranks,
upon its wondering inhabitants. Neptune has proclaimed
an embargo in his dominions, and the
sturdy tritons, like disbanded sailors, are out of employ,
unless old Charon has charitably taken them
into his service, to sound their conchs, and ply as
his ferry-men. Certain it is, no mention has been
made of them by any of our modern navigators,
who are not behind their ancient predecessors in
tampering with the marvellous—nor has any notice
been taken of them, in that most minute and authentic
chronicle of the seas, the New York Gazette
edited by Solomon Lang. Even Castor and Pollux,
those flaming meteors that blaze at the masthead
of tempest tost vessels, are rarely beheld in
these degenerate days—and it is but now and then,
that our worthy sea captains fall in with that portentous
phantom of the seas, that terror to all experienced
mariners, that shadowy spectrum of the
night—the flying Dutchman!

Suffice it then to say, the voyage was prosperous
and tranquil—the crew being a patient people, much
given to slumber and vacuity, and but little troubled

with the disease of thinking—a malady of the mind,
which is the sure breeder of discontent. Hudson
had laid in abundance of gin and sour crout, and
every man was allowed to sleep quietly at his post,
unless the wind blew. True it is, some slight dissatisfaction
was shewn on two or three occasions,
at certain unreasonable conduct of Commodore
Hudson. Thus for instance, he forbore to shorten
sail when the wind was light, and the weather serene,
which was considered among the most experienced
dutch seamen, as certain weather breeders, or prognostics,
that the weather would change for the worse.
He acted, moreover, in direct contradiction to that
ancient and sage rule of the dutch navigators, who
always took in sail at night—put the helm a-port,
and turned in—by which precaution they had a good
night's rest—were sure of knowing where they were
the next morning, and stood but little chance of
running down a continent in the dark. He likewise
prohibited the seamen from wearing more than
five jackets, and six pair of breeches, under pretence
of rendering them more alert; and no man
was permitted to go aloft, and hand in sails, with a
pipe in his mouth, as is the invariable Dutch custom,
at the present day—All these grievances,
though they might ruffle for a moment, the constitutional
tranquillity of the honest Dutch tars, made
but transient impression; they eat hugely, drank
profusely, and slept immeasurably, and being under
the especial guidance of providence, the ship was
safely conducted to the coast of America; where,
after sundry unimportant touchings and standings
off and on, she at length, on the fourth day of September
entered that majestic bay, which at this
day expands its ample bosom, before the city of
New York, and which had never before been visited
by any European.

True it is—and I am not ignorant of the fact,
that in a certain aprocryphal book of voyages, compiled
by one Hacluyt, is to be found a letter written
to Francis the First, by one Giovanne, or John
Verazzani, on which some writers are inclined to
found a belief that this delightful bay had been
visited nearly a century previous to the voyage of
the enterprizing Hudson. Now this (albeit it has
met with the countenance of certain very judicious
and learned men) I hold in utter disbelief, and
that for various good and substantial reasons—
First, Because on strict examination it will be
found, that the description given by this Verazzani,
applies about as well to the bay of New York, as
it does to my night cap—Secondly, Because that
this John Verazzani, for whom I already begin to
feel a most bitter enmity, is a native of Florence;
and every body knows the crafty wiles of these
losel Florentines, by which they filched away the
laurels, from the arms of the immortal Colon, (vulgarly
called Columbus) and bestowed them on

their officious townsman, Amerigo Vespucci—and I
make no doubt they are equally ready to rob the
illustrious Hudson, of the credit of discovering this
beauteous island, adorned by the city of New York,
and placing it beside their usurped discovery of
South America. And thirdly, I award my decision
in favour of the pretensions of Hendrick Hudson,
inasmuch as his expedition sailed from Holland,
being truly and absolutely a Dutch enterprize—and
though all the proofs in the world were introduced
on the other side, I would set them at naught as
undeserving my attention. If these three reasons
are not sufficient to satisfy every burgher of this
ancient city—all I can say is, they are degenerate
descendants from their venerable Dutch ancestors,
and totally unworthy the trouble of convincing.
Thus, therefore, the title of Hendrick Hudson, to
his renowned discovery is fully vindicated.

It has been traditionary in our family, that when
the great navigator was first blessed with a view of
this enchanting island, he was observed, for the
first and only time in his life, to exhibit strong
symptoms of astonishment and admiration. He is
said to have turned to master Juet, and uttered
these remarkable words, while he pointed towards
this paradise of the new world—“see! there!”—
and thereupon, as was always his way when he was
uncommonly pleased, he did puff out such clouds
of dense tobacco smoke, that in one minute the vessel

was out of sight of land, and master Juet was
fain to wait, until the winds dispersed this impenetrable
fog.

It was indeed—as my great great grandfather
used to say—though in truth I never heard him,
for he died, as might be expected, before I was
born.—“It was indeed a spot, on which the eye
might have revelled forever, in ever new and never
ending beauties.” The island of Manna-hata, spread
wide before them, like some sweet vision of fancy,
or some fair creation of industrious magic. Its
hills of smiling green swelled gently one above
another, crowned with lofty trees of luxuriant
growth; some pointing their tapering foliage towards
the clouds, which were gloriously transparent;
and others, loaded with a verdant burthen of
clambering vines, bowing their branches to the
earth, that was covered with flowers. On the
gentle declivities of the hills were scattered in gay
profusion, the dog wood, the sumach, and the wild
briar, whose scarlet berries and white blossoms
glowed brightly among the deep green of the surrounding
foliage; and here and there, a curling
column of smoke rising from the little glens that
opened along the shore, seemed to promise the weary
voyagers, a welcome at the hands of their fellow
creatures. As they stood gazing with entranced
attention on the scene before them, a red man
crowned with feathers, issued from one of these

glens, and after contemplating in silent wonder, the
gallant ship, as she sat like a stately swan swimming
on a silver lake, sounded the war-whoop, and
bounded into the woods, like a wild deer, to the
utter astonishment of the phlegmatic Dutchmen,
who had never heard such a noise, or witnessed
such a caper in their whole lives.

Of the transactions of our adventurers with the
savages, and how the latter smoked copper pipes,
and eat dried currants; how they brought great
store of tobacco and oysters; how they shot one of
the ship's crew, and how he was buried, I shall say
nothing, being that I consider them unimportant to
my history. After tarrying a few days in the bay,
in order to smoke their pipes and refresh themselves
after their sea-faring, our voyagers weighed
anchor, and adventurously ascended a mighty river
which emptied into the bay. This river it is said was
known among the savages by the name of the Shatemuck;
though we are assured in an excellent little
history published in 1674, by John Josselyn, Gent.
that it was called the Mohegan,[2] and master Richard
Bloome, who wrote some time afterwards, asserts
the same—so that I very much incline in favour of
the opinion of these two honest gentlemen. Be
this as it may, the river is at present denominated
the Hudson; and up this stream the shrewd Hen

drick had very little doubt he should discover the
much looked for passage to China!

The journal goes on to make mention of divers
interviews between the crew and the natives, in the
voyage up the river, but as they would be impertinent
to my history, I shall pass them over in silence,
except the following dry joke, played off by
the old commodore and his school-fellow Robert
Juet; which does such vast credit to their experimental
philosophy, that I cannot refrain from inserting
it. “Our master and his mate determined
to try some of the chiefe men of the countrey, whether
they had any treacherie in them. So they
tooke them downe into the cabin and gave them so
much wine and acqua vitæ that they were all merrie;
and one of them had his wife with him, which
sate so modestly, as any of our countrey women
would do in a strange place. In the end, one of
them was drunke, which had been aboarde of our
ship all the time that we had beene there, and that
was strange to them, for they could not tell how to
take it.”[3]

Having satisfied himself by this profound experiment,
that the natives were an honest, social
race of jolly roysters, who had no objection to a
drinking bout, and were very merry in their cups,
the old commodore chuckled hugely to himself,
and thrusting a double quid of tobacco in his cheek,

directed master Juet to have it carefully recorded,
for the satisfaction of all the natural philosophers of
the university of Leyden—which done, he proceeded
on his voyage, with great self-complacency.
After sailing, however, above an hundred miles up
the river, he found the watery world around him,
began to grow more shallow and confined, the current
more rapid and perfectly fresh—phenomena
not uncommon in the ascent of rivers, but which
puzzled the honest dutchmen prodigiously. A
consultation of our modern Argonauts was therefore
called, and having deliberated full six hours,
they were brought to a determination, by the ship's
running aground—whereupon they unanimously
concluded, that there was but little chance of getting
to China in this direction. A boat, however,
was dispatched to explore higher up the river,
which on its return, confirmed the opinion—upon
this the ship was warped off and put about, with
great difficulty, being like most of her sex, exceedingly
hard to govern; and the adventurous Hudson,
according to the account of my great great
grandfather, returned down the river—with a prodigious
flea in his ear!

Being satisfied that there was little likelihood of
getting to China, unless like the blind man, he returned
from whence he sat out and took a fresh
start; he forthwith re-crossed the sea to Holland,
where he was received with great welcome by the

honourable East-India company, who were very
much rejoiced to see him come back safe—with
their ship; and at a large and respectable meeting
of the first merchants and burgomasters of Amsterdam,
it was unanimously determined, that as a munificent
reward for the eminent services he had
performed, and the important discovery he had
made, the great river Mohegan should be called
after his name!—and it continues to be called Hudson
river unto this very day.