University of Virginia Library

THE BERMUDAS.
A SHAKSPEARIAN RESEARCH

In the course of a voyage home from England, our ship had
been struggling, for two or three weeks, with perverse head-winds,
and a stormy sea. It was in the month of May, yet the weather
had at times a wintry sharpness, and it was apprehended that we
were in the neighborhood of floating islands of ice, which at that
season of the year drift out of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, and
sometimes occasion the wreck of noble ships.

Wearied out by the continued opposition of the elements, our
captain bore away to the south, in hopes of catching the expiring
breath of the trade-winds, and making what is called the southern
passage. A few days wrought, as it were, a magical “sea change”
in every thing around us. We seemed to emerge into a different
world. The late dark and angry sea, lashed up into roaring and
swashing surges, became calm and sunny; the rude winds died

away; and gradually a light breeze sprang up directly aft, filling
out every sail, and wafting us smoothly along on an even keel.
The air softened into a bland and delightful temperature. Dolphins
began to play about us; the nautilus came floating by, like
a fairy ship, with its mimic sail and rainbow tints; and flying-fish,
from time to time, made their short excursive flights, and
occasionally fell upon the deck. The cloaks and overcoats in
which we had hitherto wrapped ourselves, and moped about the
vessel, were thrown aside; for a summer warmth had succeeded
to the late wintry chills. Sails were stretched as awnings over
the quarter-deck, to protect us from the mid-day sun. Under
these we lounged away the day, in luxurious indolence, musing,
with half-shut eyes, upon the quiet ocean. The night was scarcely
less beautiful than the day. The rising moon sent a quivering
column of silver along the undulating surface of the deep, and,
gradually climbing the heaven, lit up our towering topsails and
swelling mainsails, and spread a pale, mysterious light around.
As our ship made her whispering way through this dreamy world
of waters, every boisterous sound on board was charmed to
silence; and the low whistle, or drowsy song, of a sailor from the
forecastle, or the tinkling of a guitar, and the soft warbling of a
female voice from the quarter-deck, seemed to derive a witching
melody from the scene and hour. I was reminded of Oberon's
exquisite description of music and moonlight on the ocean:

Indeed, I was in the very mood to conjure up all the imaginary
beings with which poetry has peopled old ocean, and almost
ready to fancy I heard the distant song of the mermaid, or the
mellow shell of the triton, and to picture to myself Neptune and
Amphitrite with all their pageant sweeping along the dim horizon.

A day or two of such fanciful voyaging, brought us in sight
of the Bermudas, which first looked like mere summer clouds,
peering above the quiet ocean. All day we glided along in sight
of them, with just wind enough to fill our sails; and never did
land appear more lovely. They were clad in emerald verdure, beneath
the serenest of skies: not an angry wave broke upon their
quiet shores, and small fishing craft, riding on the crystal waves,
seemed as if hung in air. It was such a scene that Fletcher pictured
to himself, when he extolled the halcyon lot of the fisherman:

In contemplating these beautiful islands, and the peaceful sea
around them, I could hardly realize that these were the “still
vexed Bermoothes” of Shakspeare, once the dread of mariners,
and infamous in the narratives of the early discoverers, for the
dangers and disasters which beset them. Such, however, was the

case; and the islands derived additional interest in my eyes, from
fancying that I could trace in their early history, and in the superstitious
notions connected with them, some of the elements of
Shakspeare's wild and beautiful drama of the Tempest. I shall
take the liberty of citing a few historical facts, in support of this
idea, which may claim some additional attention from the American
reader, as being connected with the first settlement of Virginia.

At the time when Shakspeare was in the fulness of his talent,
and seizing upon every thing that could furnish aliment to his imagination,
the colonization of Virginia was a favorite object of
enterprise among people of condition in England, and several of
the courtiers of the court of Queen Elizabeth were personally engaged
in it. In the year 1609, a noble armament of nine ships
and five hundred men sailed for the relief of the colony. It was
commanded by Sir George Somers, as admiral, a gallant and generous
gentleman, above sixty years of age, and possessed of an
ample fortune, yet still bent upon hardy enterprise, and ambitious
of signalizing himself in the service of his country.

On board of his flag-ship, the Sea-Vulture, sailed also Sir
Thomas Gates, lieutenant-general of the colony. The voyage was
long and boisterous. On the twenty-fifth of July, the admiral's
ship was separated from the rest in a hurricane. For several
days she was driven about at the mercy of the elements, and so
strained and racked, that her seams yawned open, and her hold
was half filled with water. The storm subsided, but left her a
mere foundering wreck. The crew stood in the hold to their
waists in water, vainly endeavoring to bail her with kettles,
buckets, and other vessels. The leaks rapidly gained on them,
while their strength was as rapidly declining. They lost all hope

of keeping the ship afloat, until they should reach the American
coast; and wearied with fruitless toil, determined, in their despair,
to give up all farther attempt, shut down the hatches, and abandon
themselves to Providence. Some, who had spirituous liquors, or
“comfortable waters,” as the old record quaintly terms them,
brought them forth, and shared them with their comrades, and
they all drank a sad farewell to one another, as men who were
soon to part company in this world.

In this moment of extremity, the worthy admiral, who kept
sleepless watch from the high stern of the vessel, gave the thrilling
cry of “land!” All rushed on deck, in a frenzy of joy, and
nothing now was to be seen or heard on board, but the transports
of men who felt as if rescued from the grave. It is true the land
in sight would not, in ordinary circumstances, have inspired much
self-gratulation. It could be nothing else but the group of islands
called after their discoverer, one Juan Bermudas, a Spaniard,
but stigmatized among the mariners of those days as “the
islands of devils!” “For the islands of the Bermudas,” says
the old narrative of this voyage, “as every man knoweth that
hath heard or read of them, were never inhabited by any christian
or heathen people, but were ever esteemed and reputed a
most prodigious and inchanted place, affording nothing but gusts,
stormes, and foul weather, which made every navigator and mariner
to avoide them as Scylla and Charybdis, or as they would
shun the Divell himself.”[1]

Sir George Somers and his tempest-tossed comrades, however,
hailed them with rapture, as if they had been a terrestrial paradise.
Every sail was spread, and every exertion made to urge

the foundering ship to land. Before long, she struck upon a rock.
Fortunately, the late stormy winds had subsided, and there was
no surf. A swelling wave lifted her from off the rock, and bore
her to another; and thus she was borne on from rock to rock,
until she remained wedged between two, as firmly as if set upon
the stocks. The boats were immediately lowered, and, though
the shore was above a mile distant, the whole crew were landed
in safety.

Every one had now his task assigned him. Some made all
haste to unload the ship, before she should go to pieces; some
constructed wigwams of palmetto leaves, and others ranged the
island in quest of wood and water. To their surprise and joy,
they found it far different from the desolate and frightful place
they had been taught by seamen's stories to expect. It was well
wooded and fertile; there were birds of various kinds, and herds
of swine roaming about, the progeny of a number that had swum
ashore, in former years, from a Spanish wreck. The island
abounded with turtle, and great quantities of their eggs were to
be found among the rocks. The bays and inlets were full of fish;
so tame, that if any one stepped into the water, they would
throng around him. Sir George Somers, in a little while, caught
enough with hook and line to furnish a meal to his whole ship's
company. Some of them were so large, that two were as much
as a man could carry. Craw-fish, also, were taken in abundance.
The air was soft and salubrious, and the sky beautifully serene.
Waller, in his “Summer Islands,' has given us a faithful picture
of the climate:

We may imagine the feelings of the shipwrecked mariners, on
finding themselves cast by stormy seas upon so happy a coast;
where abundance was to be had without labor; where what in
other climes constituted the costly luxuries of the rich, were within
every man's reach; and where life promised to be a mere holiday.
Many of the common sailors, especially, declared they desired
no better lot than to pass the rest of their lives on this favored
island.

The commanders, however, were not so ready to console themselves
with mere physical comforts, for the severance from the
enjoyment of cultivated life, and all the objects of honorable ambition.
Despairing of the arrival of any chance ship on these
shunned and dreaded islands, they fitted out the long-boat, making
a deck of the ship's hatches, and having manned her with
eight picked men, despatched her, under the command of an able
and hardy mariner, named Raven, to proceed to Virginia, and
procure shipping to be sent to their relief.

While waiting in anxious idleness for the arrival of the looked-for
aid, dissensions arose between Sir George Somers and Sir
Thomas Gates, originating, very probably, in jealousy of the lead
which the nautical experience and professional station of the admiral
gave him in the present emergency. Each commander of
course had his adherents: these dissensions ripened into a complete

schism; and this handful of shipwrecked men, thus thrown
together on an uninhabited island, separated into two parties, and
lived asunder in bitter feud, as men rendered fickle by prosperity,
instead of being brought into brotherhood by a common calamity.

Weeks and months elapsed, without bringing the looked-for
aid from Virginia, though that colony was within but a few days'
sail. Fears were now entertained that the long-boat had been
either swallowed up in the sea, or wrecked on some savage coast;
one or other of which most probably was the case, as nothing was
ever heard of Raven and his comrades.

Each party now set to work to build a vessel for itself out of
the cedar with which the island abounded. The wreck of the
Sea-Vulture furnished rigging, and various other articles; but
they had no iron for bolts, and other fastenings; and for want of
pitch and tar, they payed the seams of their vessels with lime and
turtle's oil, which soon dried, and became as hard as stone.

On the tenth of may, 1610, they set sail, having been about
nine months on the island. They reached Virginia without farther
accident, but found the colony in great distress for provisions.
The account that they gave of the abundance that reigned in the
Bermudas, and especially of the herds of swine that roamed the
island, determined Lord Delaware, the governor of Virginia, to
send thither for supplies. Sir George Somers, with his wonted
promptness and generosity, offered to undertake what was still
considered a dangerous voyage. Accordingly on the nineteenth
of June, he set sail, in his own cedar vessel of thirty tons, accompanied
by another small vessel, commanded by Captain Argall.

The gallant Somers was doomed again to be tempest-tossed.

His companion vessel was soon driven back to port, but he kept
the sea; and, as usual, remained at his post on deck, in all weathers.
His voyage was long and boisterous, and the fatigues and
exposures which he underwent, were too much for a frame impaired
by age, and by previous hardships. He arrived at Bermudas
completely exhausted and broken down.

His nephew, Captain Matthew Somers, attended him in his
illness with affectionate assiduity. Finding his end approaching,
the veteran called his men together, and exhorted them to be true
to the interests of Virginia; to procure provisions, with all possible
despatch, and hasten back to the relief of the colony.

With this dying charge, he gave up the ghost, leaving his nephew
and crew overwhelmed with grief and consternation. Their
first thought was to pay honor to his remains. Opening the body,
they took out the heart and entrails, and buried them, erecting a
cross over the grave. They then embalmed the body, and set sail
with it for England; thus, while paying empty honors to their
deceased commander, neglecting his earnest wish and dying injunction,
that they should return with relief to Virginia.

The little bark arrived safely at Whitechurch in Dorsetshire,
with its melancholy freight. The body of the worthy Somers
was interred with the military honors due to a brave soldier, and
many volleys fired over his grave. The Bermudas have since received
the name of the Somer Islands, as a tribute to his memory.

The accounts given by Captain Matthew Somers and his crew
of the delightful climate, and the great beauty, fertility, and
abundance of these islands, excited the zeal of enthusiasts, and
the cupidity of speculators, and a plan was set on foot to colonize

them. The Virginia company sold their right to the islands to
one hundred and twenty of their own members, who erected
themselves into a distinct corporation, under the name of the “Somer
Island Society;” and Mr. Richard More was sent out, in
1612, as governor, with sixty men, to found a colony: and this
leads me to the second branch of this research.

THE THREE KINGS OF BERMUDA.
AND THEIR TREASURE OF AMBERGRIS.

At the time that Sir George Somers was preparing to launch
his cedar-built bark, and sail for Virginia, there were three culprits
among his men, who had been guilty of capital offences.
One of them was shot; the others, named Christopher Carter
and Edward Waters, escaped. Waters, indeed, made a very narrow
escape, for he had actually been tied to a tree to be executed,
but cut the rope with a knife, which he had concealed about his
person, and fled to the woods, where he was joined by Carter.
These two worthies kept themselves concealed in the secret parts
of the island, until the departure of the two vessels. When Sir
George Somers revisited the island, in quest of supplies for the
Virginia colony, these culprits hovered about the landing-place,
and succeeded in persuading another seaman, named Edward
Chard, to join them, giving him the most seductive picture of the
ease and abundance in which they revelled.

When the bark that bore Sir George's body to England had
faded from the watery horizon, these three vagabonds walked
forth in their majesty and might, the lords and sole inhabitants

of these islands. For a time their little commonwealth went on
prosperously and happily. They built a house, sowed corn, and
the seeds of various fruits; and having plenty of hogs, wild fowl,
and fish of all kinds, with turtle in abundance, carried on their
tripartite sovereignty with great harmony and much feasting. All
kingdoms, however, are doomed to revolution, convulsion, or decay;
and so it fared with the empire of the three kings of Bermuda,
albeit they were monarchs without subjects. In an evil
hour, in their search after turtle, among the fissures of the rocks,
they came upon a great treasure of ambergris, which had been
cast on shore by the ocean. Besides a number of pieces of
smaller dimensions, there was one great mass, the largest that
had ever been known, weighing eighty pounds, and which of itself,
according to the market value of ambergris in those days, was
worth about nine or ten thousand pounds.

From that moment the happiness and harmony of the three
kings of Bermuda were gone for ever. While poor devils, with
nothing to share but the common blessings of the island, which
administered to present enjoyment, but had nothing of convertible
value, they were loving and united; but here was actual wealth,
which would make them rich men, whenever they could transport
it to market.

Adieu the delights of the island! They now became flat and
insipid. Each pictured to himself the consequence he might now
aspire to, in civilized life, could he once get there with this mass
of ambergris. No longer a poor Jack Tar, frolicking in the low
taverns of Wapping, he might roll through London in his coach,
and perchance arrive, like Whittington, at the dignity of Lord
Mayor.

With riches came envy and covetousness. Each was now for
assuming the supreme power, and getting the monopoly of the
ambergris. A civil war at length broke out: Chard and Waters
defied each other to mortal combat, and the kingdom of the Bermudas
was on the point of being deluged with royal blood. Fortunately,
Carter took no part in the bloody feud. Ambition might have
made him view it with secret exultation; for if either or both of
his brother potentates were slain in the conflict, he would be a
gainer in purse and ambergris. But he dreaded to be left alone
in this uninhabited island, and to find himself the monarch of a
solitude: so he secretly purloined and hid the weapons of the
belligerent rivals, who, having no means of carrying on the war,
gradually cooled down into a sullen armistice.

The arrival of Governor More, with an overpowering force of
sixty men, put an end to the empire. He took possession of the
kingdom, in the name of the Somer Island Company, and forthwith
proceeded to make a settlement. The three kings tacitly relinquished
their sway, but stood up stoutly for their treasure. It
was determined, however, that they had been fitted out at the expense,
and employed in the service, of the Virginia Company;
that they had found the ambergris while in the service of that
company, and on that company's land; that the ambergris therefore
belonged to that company, or rather to the Somer Island
Company, in consequence of their recent purchase of the island,
and all their appurtenances. Having thus legally established
their right, and being moreover able to back it by might, the
company laid the lion's paw upon the spoil; and nothing more
remains on historic record of the Three Kings of Bermuda, and
their treasure of ambergris.

The reader will now determine whether I am more extravagant
than most of the commentators on Shakespeare, in my surmise
that the story of Sir George Somers' shipwreck, and the subsequent
occurrences that took place on the uninhabited island
may have furnished the bard with some of the elements of his
drama of the Tempest. The tidings of the shipwreck, and of
the incidents connected with it, reached England not long before
the production of this drama, and made a great sensation there.
A narrative of the whole matter, from which most of the foregoing
particulars are extracted, was published at the time in London,
in a pamphlet form, and could not fail to be eagarly perused
by Shakespeare, and to make a vivid impression on his fancy.
His expression, in the Tempest, of “the still vext Bermoothes,”
accords exactly with the storm-beaten character of those islands.
The enchantments, too, with which he has clothed the island of
Prospero, may they not be traced to the wild and superstitious
notions entertained about the Bermudas? I have already cited
two passages from a pamphlet published at the time, showing
that they were esteemed “a most prodigious and inchanted place,”
and the “habitation of divells;” and another pamphlet, published
shortly afterward, observes: “And whereas it is reported that
this land of the Barmudas, with the islands about, (which are
many, at least an hundred), are inchanted, and kept with evil and
wicked spirits, it is a most idle false report.”[2]

The description, too, given in the same pamphlets, of the real
beauty and fertility of the Bermudas, and of their serene and

happy climate, so opposite to the dangerous and inhospitable character
with which they had been stigmatized, accords with the eulogium
of Sebastian on the island of Prospero.

I think too, in the exulting consciousness of ease, security,
and abundance, felt by the late tempest-tossed mariners, while
revelling in the plenteousness of the island, and their inclination
to remain there, released from the labors, the cares, and the artificial
restraints of civilized life, I can see something of the golden
commonwealth of honest Gonzalo:

But above all, in the three fugitive vagabonds who remained
in possession of the island of Bermuda, on the departure of their
comrades, and in their squabbles about supremacy, on the finding
of their treasure, I see typified Sebastian, Trinculo, and their
worthy companion Caliban:

I do not mean to hold up the incidents and characters in the
narrative and in the play as parallel, or as being strikingly similar:
neither would I insinuate that the narrative suggested the
play; I would only suppose that Shakespeare, being occupied
about that time on the drama of the Tempest, the main story of
which, I believe, is of Italian origin, had many of the fanciful
ideas of it suggested to his mind by the shipwreck of Sir George
Somers on the “still vext Bermoothes,” and by the popular superstitions
connected with these islands, and suddenly put in circulation
by that event.