University of Virginia Library

The second voyage to Guinie, and the riuer of Selto, set out in the Moneth of November 1563, by Sir William Gerrard, Sir William Chester, Sir Thomas Lodge, Maister Beniamin Goston, Maister William Winter, Maister Lionell Dueke, Anthonie Hickman, and Edward Castelin, with two ships, the one called the Iohn Baptist, wherein went for Maister, Laurence Rondellt: and the other the Marlin, wherein went also for Maister, Robert Revell, having for Factors, Robert Baker, Iustinian Goodwine, Iames Gleidell, and George Gage: and written in verse by the foresaid Robert Baker.

You heard before, that home I got
from Ginnie at the last,
But by and by, I quite forgot
the sorrowes I had past.
And ships rigged also,
with speed to ship againe,
I being then requir'd to go,
did not denie them plaine,
But granted them to go,
unhappie foolish wight,
When they command, eke there to do
the best service I might.
In fine, to go our way
now serveth time and tide,
We having nothing us to stay,
what should we longer bide:
The hempen band with helpe
of Mariners doth threat

The anker.

To wey and reare that slouthfull whelpe
up from his mothers teat.
The Maister then gan cheere
with siluer whistle blast
His Mariners, which at the Ieere
are laboring wondrous fast.
Some other then againe,
the maineyard up to hoise,
The hard haler doth hale a maine,
while other at a trice
Cut saile without delay:
the rest that be below,
Both sheats abaft do hale straitway
and boleins all let go.
The Helme a Mariner
in hand then strait way tooke,
The Pilot eke what course to stir
within his card did looke.
Againe with siluer blast,
the Maister doth not faile,
To cause his mates forth with in hast
abroad to put more saile.
We then lanch from the shore,
sith warre we knew it right,
And kept in sea aloofe therefore
two dayes and eke a night.
And, as it is the guise,
to toppe a man we send,
Who straight a saile or two espies,
with whom we then do wend.
Aloofe would some with one,
and roome ward would the rest:
But with the tallest ship we gone,
whom we thinke to be best.
At last, in comming neere
as captaines use to do,
I hale them, and of whence they were
I did desire to know:
Of France when they had said,
we weaved them a maine,
But they nothing therewith dismaid
did like to us againe.
We then ourselves advant
through hope of purchase here,
Amaine say we, ye iolly gallant
or you shall haue it dere.
To arme the maine top tho
the boatswaine goeth eke,
His mate to the foretop also
makes hast to do the like.
To top both stones and darts
good fellowes hoise apace:
The quarter maisters with glad hearts
to know ech one his place.
Our topsailes strike we tho
and fit our sailes to fight,
Our bulwarke at maine mast also
is made like wise aright.
Upon our poope eke then
right subtilly we lay
Pouder, to blow up all such men,
as enter theraway.
Our Trumpetter aloft
now sounds the feats of war,
The brasen pieces wring oft
fling forth both chaine and bar.
Some on the yardes againe
do weave with naked swoord,
And crying loud to them amaine
they did us come aboord.
To bath hir feet in bloud
the graigoose fleeth in hast:
And Mariners as Lions wood,
do crie aboord as fast.
Now firie Faulkons flie
right greedie of their pray,
And kils at first stone dead truely
ech thing within their way.
Alarme ye now my mates I say,
see that ye nothing lacke,
At every loope then gins straight way
a harquebush to cracke.
Their saile to burne, we shoot
our arrowes of wilde fire,
And pikes burning therewith about
lads tosse with like desire.
Eke straight way forth for wine
the steward call I then,
With fiery spice enough therein
I drinke unto my men,
And then even with a woord
our lime pot prest to fall,
This iolly gallant we clap aboord
and enter him withall.
Their nettings now gan teare
with dint of heavie stone,
And some mens heads witnesse did beare
who never could make mone.
The harquebush acroke
which hie on top doth lie,
Discharg'd full of haileshot doth smoke
to kill his enemie.
Which in his enemies top
doth fight, there it to keepe,
Yet he at last a deadly lope
is made from thence to lepe.
Then entreth one withall
into this Frenchmans top,
Who cuts ech rope, and makes to fall
his yard, withouten stop.
Then Mariners belowe,
as carelesse of the pike,
Do hew, and kill still as they goe,
and force not where they strike.
And still the trumpets sound
with pleasant blast doth cheare
Ech Mariner, so in that stound
that they nothing did feare.
The Maister then also,
his mates to cheare in fight,
His Whistle chearefully doth blow,
whereby strait every wight
So fierce begins to be,
that Frenchmen gin to stoe,
And English men as right worthy
do catch for pillage tho.
What would you more I say
but tell the truth alway:
We usde our matters so this day
we caried him away,
Unto a Port in Spaine,
which sure is call'd the Groine,
Whereas we for French lading plaine
received readie coine.
Well thus this good lucke past,
we through salt Seas did scoure,
To Ginney coast eke come at last,
O that unhappie houre.
My hand alas for feare
now shakes, of this to write,
Mine eye almost full fraught with teare,
eke lets me to indite.
What should I here recite
the miserie I had,
When none of you will scarce credit
that ere it was so bad':
Well, yet I would assay
to tell it, if I might,
But O Minerva, helpe me aye,
my wits astond be quite.
Yea helpe, ye muses nine,
let no thought me withstand,
Aid me this thing well to define,
which here I take in hand.
Well, thus it fortuned tho,
in Ginney now arriv'd,
Nine men in boat to shore we go,
where we traffike espide,
And parting at midday
from ship on good intent
In hope of traffike there I say
to shore away we went.
Our ships then riding fast
in sea at anker bight,
We minded to dispatch in hast,
eke to returne that night.
But being hard by land,
there suddenly doth rise
A mightie winde, where with it raind
and thundred, in such wise,
That we by shore did ride,
where we best Port might finde,
Our ships we thinke from anker slide,
a trice before the winde.
This night Vulcan begins
on us reveng'd to be,
And thunderbolts about he slings
most terrible to see,
Admixt with fierie flame
which cracks about our eares,
And thus gins he to play his game,
as now to him appeares.
He Eolus hath feed
herein to be his friend,
And all the whirling windes with speed
among as doth he send.
Thus hard by shore we lay,
this wet and weary night,
But on next morne and all the day
of ship we had no sight.
For Vulcan all this night
from fierie forge so fast
Sent thunder bolts with such great light,
that when the night was past,
The next day there remaind
so great smoke all about,
Much like a mist, eke there with raine,
that we were wet throughout.
And thus in smoke mindes he
to part us from our ship:
Thus nere a one ech other see,
and so have we the slip.
Our ships then backe againe,
thinking we were behinde,
Do saile by shore a day or twaine
in hope there us to finde.
And we the contrary,
do row along the shore
Forward, thinking our ships to be
still sailing us before.
They sailing thus two days or three,
and could not finde us than,
Do thinke that in that foule night we
were drowned every man.
Our ship then newes doth beare,
when she to England wends
That we nine surely drowned were,
and thus doth tell our frends:
While we thus being lost,
alive in miserie
Do row in hope yet on this coast,
our ships ta finde truly.
Well thus one day we spent,
the next and third like wise,
But all in vaine was our intent,
no man a saile espies:
Three dayes be now cleane past
since any of us nine,
Of any kinde of food hath tast,
and thus gan we to pine,
Till at the last bare need
bids us hale in with land,
That we might get some root or weed
our hunger to withstand:
And being come to shore,
with Negros we intreat.
That for our wares which we had there
they would give us to eat.
Then fetch they us of roots,
and such things as they had,
We gave to them our wares to boote
and were thereof right glad.
To sea go we againe,
in hope along the shore
To finde our ships, yet thinking plaine
that they had beene before.
And thus with saile and ore
twelve days we went hard by
The strange uncomfortable shore
where we nothing espie,
But all thicke woods and bush
and mightie wildernesse,
Out of the which oft times do rush
strange beasts both wilde and fierse,
Whereof oft times we see,
at going downe of Sunne,
Divers descend in companie,
and to the sea they come.
Where as upon the sand
they lie, and chew the cud:
Sometime in water eke they stand
and wallow in the floud.
The Elephant we see,
a great unweldie beast,
With water fils his troonke right hie
and blowes it on the rest.
The Hart I saw likewise
delighted in the soile,
The wilde Bore eke after his guise
with snout in earth doth moile.
A great strange beast also,
the Antelope I weene
I there did see, and many mo,
which erst I have not seene.
And oftentimes we see
a man a shore or twaine,
Who strait brings out his Almadie
and rowes to us a maine.
Here let we anker fall,
of wares a shew we make,
We bid him choose among them all,
what wares that he will take
To bring to us some fish,
and fresh water therefore,
Or else of meat some daintie dish,
which their cookes dresse a shore.
They bring us by and by
great roots and beries eke,
Which grow upon the high palme tree,
such meat as they do like.
We drinke eke of their wine
much like our whey to see:
Which is the sappe as I have seene
that runnes out of a tree.
Thus do they bring ech thing
which they thinke to be good,
Sometime milde hony combes they bring
which they finde in the wood,
With roots and baggage eke
our corps we thus sustaine
From famine, though it be so weake,
that death was figurde plaine
In every wyse, for lacke
of sustenance and rest,
That still we thinke our hearts would breake
with sorowes so opprest.
We now alongst the coast
have saild so many a mile,
That sure we be our ships be lost,
what should we do this while:
In Heathen land we be,
impossible it is
That we should fetch our owne countrey
in such a boat as this.
We now gan to perceive
that we had overpast
The Melegete coast so much,
that we were come at last
Unto the coast of Myne,
for Niegros came aboord
With weights to poise their golde so fine,
yea speaking every woord
In Portugesse right well
demanding traffike there,
If we had any wares to sell,
and where our ships then were
We answered them againe,

Two ships.

we had two ships at sea,
The which would come traffike with thē
we thought within a day.
The cause why we thus said,
was hope to be well usde:
But seeing this, as men dismaid
away we went, and musde
Whither our ships were gone,
what way were best for us:
Shall we here perish now saith one':
no, let us not do thus:
We see all hope is past
our ships to finde againe,
And here our lives do shorten fast
in miserie and paine:
For why the raging heat
of Sunne, being so extreme,
Consumes our flesh away in sweat,
as dayly it is seene.
The Ternados againe
so often in a weeke,
With great lightnings, thunder and raine
with such abundance eke,
Doe so beat us by night,
that we sleepe not at all,
Whereby our strength is vaded quite,
no man an ore can hale.
How hard live we, alas:
three whole dayes oft be past,
Ere we poore men (a heavy case)
of any thing doe tast.
These twentie dayes ye see,
we have sit still ech one,
Which we do of necessitie,
for place to walke is none.
Our legs now us deceive,
swolne every ioint withall,
With this disease, which, by your leave,
the Scurvie men doe call.
We cannot long endure
in this case as we be,
To leave our boat I am right sure,
compeld we must agree.
Three wayes for us there is,
and this is my request,
That we may of these three devile,
to choose thereof the best.
The Castle of the Mine
is not farre hence, we know,
Tomorrow morne we there may be,
if thither you will goe.
There Portingals do lie,
and christened men they be:
If we dare trust their curtesie,
the worst is hanging glee.
Our miserie may make
them pitie us the more,
Nine such yong men great pains would take
for life to hale an ore.
Their Gallies may perhaps
lacke such yong men as we,
And thus it may fall in our laps,
all Galey slaves to be,
During our life, and this
we shall be sure to have,
Although we row, such meate as is
the allowance of a slave.
But here we rowe and sterve,
our misery is so sore:
The slave with meat inough they serve,
that he may teare his ore.
If this you will not like,
the next way is to goe:
Unto the Negros, and to seeke
what friendship they will shew.
But what favour would ye
of these men looke to have:
Who beastly savage people be,
farre worse then any slave:
If Cannibals they be
in kind, we doe not know,
But if they be, then welcome we,
to pot straight way we goe.
They naked goe likewise,
for shame we cannot so:
We cannot live after their guise,
thus naked for to go.
By rootes and leaves they live,
as beasts doe in the wood:
Among these heathen who can thrive,
with this so wilde a food:
The piercing heate againe,
that scorcheth with such strength,
Piercing our naked flesh with paine,
will us consume at length,
The third and last is this,
(if those two you refuse)
To die in miserable wise,
here in the boate you chuse.
And this iudge by the way,
more trust is to be given,
Unto the Portingals alway,
sith they be christned men,
Then to these brutish sort,
which beastly are ye see:
Who of our death will make a sport,
if Canibals they be.
We all with one consent,
now death despising plaine:
(Sith if we die as innocent,
the more it is our gaine)
Our sayle we hoyse in hast,
with speed we mind to go
Unto the castell, now not past
a twentie leagues us fro.
And sayling all this day,
we spied late in the night,
As we past by thus on our way,
upon the shore a light.
Then sayd our Boate swaine thus,
by this great light a shore,
Trafique there seemes, will you let us
anker this night therefore,
And trie if we may get,
this next morning by day,
Some kind of food for us to eate,
and then to goe our way':
We anker there that night,
the next morning to shore:
And in the place, where we the light
did see the night before,
A watch house now there stood,
upon a rocke without:
Hard by a great blacke crosse of wood,
which putteth us in doubt,
What place that this should be,
and looking to the shore,
A Castell there we gan espie,
this made us doubt the more.
Wherein we saw did stand
a Portingall or twaine:
Who held a white flag in his hand,
and waved us amaine.
Our flesh as fraile now shakes,
whereby we gan retire,
And he at us a shot then makes,
a Negro giving fire.
A piece discharged thus,
the hissing pellet lights,
I thinke within a yard of us,
but none of us it hits.
We wisht then we had there
a good ship, eke or twaine,
But helplesse now, we rowe a shore
to know th'end of our paine.
The neerer that we went
to them unto the shore,
To yeld our selues, as first we ment
they still did shoot the more.
Now Canons loud gan rore,
and Culverins now crackt,
The Castell eke it thundred sore,
as though the wals weere sackt.
Some shot doth light hard by,
some over us againe:
But though the shot so thicke doth flie,
yet rowe we in a maine,
That now so neere we be
unto the castell wall,
That none of them at us we see,
can make a shot at all.
We ment a land to goe,
their curtesie to trie:
But from the wal great stones they throw,
and there with by and by,
The Negros marching downe,
in battell ray do come,
With dart and target from the towne,
and follow all a dromme.
A bowe in hand some hent,
with pois ned arrow prest,
To strike therewith they be full bent,
a pined English brest.
But stones come downe so fast
on us on every side,
We thinke our boats bottom would brast
if long we thus abide.
And arrowes flie so thicke,
hissing at every eare,
Which both in clothes and flesh do sticke,
that we, as men past feare,
Cry now, Launch launch in hast,
hale of the boate a maine:
Foure men in banke let them sit fast
and rowe to sea againe.
The other five like men,
do manfully in hand,
Take up each kind of weapon then,
these wolues here to withstand.
A harquebush takes one,
another bends his bowe,
Among the slaves then downe fals one,
and other hurt I trowe.
At those Portingals then shoot we,
upon the Fort which stand,
In long fine white shirts as we see,
and lintstocks in their hand.
And of these shirts so white
we painted some full red,
Striking their open corps in fight,
with dint of arrow head.
For we sawe they had there
no Gallies us to take,
Where threatnings thē could us not feare
or make us once to shake.
Then Canons loud gan rore,
and pellets flie about,
And each man haleth hard his ore
and mooved not a foote.
Yea, though the poulder sent
the pellets thicke away,
Yet spite of them cleane through we went
at last, and got the sea.
And pieces charging fast,
they shot after us so,
That wonder was it how we past
the furie of our foe.
The pined arme felt not
as now, the heavie ore:
With foure such ores was never boat,
I thinke, row'd so before.
To seaward scaping so,
three Negroes we see there,
Came rowing after us to know,
what countrey men we were':
We answered Englishmen,
and that thither we came,
With wares to trafique there with them,
if they had meant the same.
They Portuguse doe speake
right naturall iwis:
And of our ship to know they seeke,
how big and where she is.
We answered them againe
we had two ships at sea,
Right well appointed full of men,
that streight would take their way
Along the coast for gold,
they tary but for us,
Which came with wares there to have sold
but that they us'd us thus.
Then gan they us to pray,
if we lackt any thing,
To anker there all that whole day,
and they to us would bring
All things that we doe want,
they sory say they be:
But we their words yet trusting scant,
refuse their curtesie.
We aske them of this hold
what place that it should be,
Then they againe thus straight us told
that Portingals there lie.
And how that point they sayd,
which there hard by we see,
Was one of Cape three points, that lay

Cape three points.

the Westernmost of three.
Withouten further speech,
we hoise our saile to sea:
Minding a friendlier place to seech,
and thus we part our way.
We mind truly to proove
the Portingals no more:
But now t'assay rather what love
Negros will shew a shore.
We then with saile and ore,
went backe againe in hast:
A thirtie leagues I thinke, and more
from thence where we were chast.
And here we anker fall,
aboord the Negros come:
We gave gay things unto them all,
and thus their hearts we wonne.
At last aboord comes one,
that was the Kings chiefe sonne:
To whom by signes I made great mone,
how that I was undone,
Had lost our ships and eke
were almost starv'd for meate,
And knew not where our ships to seeke,
or any thing to eate.
I offred him our wares,
and bid him take them all:
But he perceiving now the teares,
which from our eyes did fall,
Had great pitie on us,
and sayd he would have nought,
But streight by signes he will'd us then,
that we should take no thought.
As one whom God had sent,
and kept for us in store,
To know in hall a way he went,
the Kings pleasure on shore.
And came foorthwith againe,
yea, bade us come a land:
Whereof God knowes we were ful faine,
when this we understand.
Each man bankes to his ore,
to hale the boate a land:
Where as we see upon the shore,
five hundred Negros stand.
Our men rowing in a maine,
the billow went so hie,
That straight a wave overwhelms us cleane
and there in sea we lie.
The Negros by and by,
came swimming us to save:
And brought us all to land quickly,
not one durst play the knave.
The Kings sonne after this,
a stout and valiant man,
In whom I thinke Nature iwis,
hath wrought all that she can,
He then I say commaunds
them straight to save our boate,
To worke forthwith goe many hands,
and bring the same a floate.
Some swimme to save an ore,
some dive for things be lost:
I thinke there helpt to hale a shore,
five hundred men almost.
Our boate thus halde up drie,
all things streight way were brought
The which we mist or could espie,
no man that durst keepe ought.
Then us they led a way,
knowing we wanted meate,
And gave to us, even such as they
themselves do daily eate.
Was never Owle in wood
halfe so much wondered at,
As we were then poore men, alas,
which there among them sat.
We feared yet our part,
and wisht a moneth were past,
For each man there went with his dart,
which made us oft agast.
We lay upon the ground,
with them there all that night:
But fearing still a deadly wound,
we could not sleepe a whit.
Two dayes thus past we well,
no man us offred wrong:
The cause thereof I gin you tell,
they thought this them among:
Our ships had bene at sea,
and would come there before
Two dayes to fetch us thence away,
and give them wares good store.
But when they thus heare tell
how that our ships be lost,
And that we know not very well,
when ships will come to coast:
They then ware wearie streight,
and they which did before
At sundry times give us to eate,
did give us now no more.
Our lowance wart so small,
that never nine I gesse,
Were seru'd the like, yet still withall,
it waxed lesse and lesse.
Some run now in the wood,
and there for rootes do seeke,
Base meat would here be counted good,
too bad that we mislike.
Our clothes now rot with sweat,
and from our backs do fall,
Save that whom nature wills for shame,
we cover nought at all.
One runs to seeke for clay
to fashion straight a pot,
And hardens it in Sunne all day:
an other faileth not
To fetch home wood for night,
and eke for fire sought,
That we our roots and things seeth might
if any home were brought.
The rest the wood doth seeke,
eke every bush and tree
For berries and such baggage like,
which should seeme meate to bee.
Our fingers serve in steed,
both of pickaxe and spade,
To dig and pull up every weed,
that grew within the shade.
Eke digd for rootes the ground,
and searcht on every brier
For berries, which if we had found,
then streight way to the fire:
Where we rost some of those,
the rest seeth in a pot,
And of this banket nought we lose,
nor fragment resteth not.
The night as beasts we lie
the bare hard earth upon,
And round by us a great fire light
to keepe wild beasts us from.
But what should I recite,
or covet to declare
My sorowes past, or eke t'endite
of my hard Ginnie fare':
I cease here to enlarge
my miserie in that land,
A toy in head doth now me charge,
as here to hold my hand,
In fine, what would ye more,
the heat did so exceed,
That wanting cloths it scorcht so sore,
no man could it abide,
The countrey eke so wilde,
and unhealthfull withall,
That hungry stomacks never fill'd,
doth cause faint bodies fall.
Our men fall sicke apace,
and cherishing have none:
That now of nine, within short space
we be left three alone.
Alas, what great agast
to us three living yet,
Was it to see, that death so fast
away our fellowes fet':
And then to love on hie
we call for helpe and grace,
And him beseech unfainedly,
to fetch us from this place.
From this wild heathen land,
to Christendome againe,
Or else to lay on us his hand,
and rid us from our paine.
Least that we overprest
with too much miserie,
Perhaps as weake breake our behest
which we owe God on high.
And least we living here,
among this heathen, might
Perchance for need do that which were
right hainous in his sight,
Well to my purpose then,
when we to love thus crie,
To helpe us hence poore silly men
from this our miserie.
He hearing us at length
how we to him doe call,
He helps us with his wonted strength,
and straight thither withall,
A French ship sends at last,
with whom we three go hence:
But six in earth there lie full fast,
and never like come thence.
This Frenchman as I say,
through salt and surging seas,
Us brought from Ginnie land, away
to France, the Lord we praise.
And warre he proves it plaine
when we entred his ship,
A prisner therefore I remaine,
and hence I cannot slip
Till that my ransome be
agreed upon, and paid,
Which being levied yet so hie,
no agreement can be made.
And such is lo my chance,
the meane time to abide
A prisner for ransome in France,
till God send time and tide.
From whence this idle rime
to England I doe send:
And thus till I have further time,
this Tragedie I end.