As they sailed in and out of inlets, they had to be careful not to become “embayed”; trapped by ice that prevented them from sailing out to open water.
As the July days passed, the weather improved, though the Hopewell had to constantly steer clear of ice. Then on July 14, Hudson took the ship into a large bay. What he and the men saw was absolutely astounding. The bay was teeming with whales! Hundreds of them! The whales lay in pods or frolicked in the bay. They seemed to have no fear of the ship. As Hudson noted in his journal:
In this bay we saw many whales, and one of our company having a hook and line overboard to try for fish, a whale came under the keel of our ship and made her held. Yet by God’s mercy we had no harm, but the loss of the hook and three parts of the line.
Now Hudson had information that would delight his employers. Whaling was an extremely profitable business. Almost every part of a whale was marketable. Whale meat was considered a delicacy. Whale blubber produced oil that had hundreds of uses.
Whale bone was a versatile building material. Whale teeth were as valuable as ivory. Most valuable of all were two products that came from sperm whales: One was spermaceti, which was used in the manufacture of candles, soap, cosmetics, and machine oil. The other was ambergris, a waxy substance that came from the sperm whale’s digestive system. Ambergris was used in the manufacture of perfume, and was every bit as valuable as spices from the Far East.
Hudson could practically see the smiles on the faces of the Muscovy Company directors. Even if he did not find a Northeast Passage, this voyage would prove to be very profitable indeed. No one else knew about Whale Bay, the name he had already chosen. The Muscovy Company could send its own whaling ships up here. There were many seals, too, and seal pelts were valuable.
Hudson took the ship to within one hundred feet of the shore and dropped anchor. The Muscovy Company would need practical information about this island if they were to establish a whaling station here. He sent Collin, Colman, and two others ashore in the ship’s gig, a small rowboat. The other sailors watched enviously as the four men rowed to the island. They hadn’t set foot on dry land in two-and-a-half months, and longed for a chance to get off the ship, even for just a couple of hours.
But no sooner did the shore party scramble up onto the rocks and haul the gig up after them than there was a dramatic turn in the weather. One minute it had been pleasant, almost balmy. Then a raging gale blew in, almost out of nowhere. A howling wind tore across the sea outside the bay and piled up mountains of green water. Watching the massive swells in awe, Hudson was thankful that the Hopewell was not still out there.
Within the bay the waters rolled from the effect of the seething ocean beyond the entrance, but the island’s high cliffs shielded this pocket of calm from the fury of the tempest. Nonetheless, Hudson decided to call the shore party back as a precaution. Before he could do that, a fog descended upon the bay as swiftly as darkness falling after sundown. The fog was so dense that Hudson could not see the tops of the masts, nor the prow of the ship.
Hudson was worried about the men who had gone ashore. The island was a strange, new place, and who knew what dangers might be lurking in this fog. Sailors lined the rail and called out. A few times Hudson thought he heard calls in response. But fog can play tricks with sound, and Hudson was not sure if he heard the voices of his men on shore, or the voices of the men on the ship echoing off the cliffs. For hours he waited and fretted.
Then, as suddenly as it had rolled in, the fog lifted, and beyond the bay the storm died down. Soon after, Hudson looked on with relief as the shore party launched the gig and rowed back to the Hopewell. The sailors cheered them as they climbed aboard. Hudson was delighted by the report Colman made to him, and the specimens the men had collected.
Colman said that it had been comfortably warm on the island, and there were two streams of fresh, clear water. They had seen flocks of geese, and tracks made by bears, foxes, and other animals. The men had picked up many deer antlers, whalebones, and the skull of a “morse” (walrus) that still had the tusks. They also had a rock, which Hudson was certain was pure coal.
Hudson could hardly believe his good fortune. Walrus tusks, like whales’ teeth, were as valuable as ivory. Everything the Muscovy Company would need to support a whaling station was right here! Fresh water, wild game, and if he was right about the coal, a source of fuel!
Having marked Whale Bay’s position on his chart, Hudson weighed anchor and set sail that evening. July was half over, and he still had not reached the North Pole. He sailed north of the Spitzbergens to 80 degrees 23’, the farthest north any European was known to have ventured up to that time. He could not find a break in the pack ice that blocked his way. Hudson wrote in his log, “Everywhere there is an abundance of ice compassing us about by the north and joining to the land.” There was no way through to the Pole. Some of the men wanted to turn back for England.
But Hudson was not about to give up. He told the crew they were going to sail south, go around the Spitzbergens, and then up the east side of the islands and try again. There were grumblings from the crew, but Hudson ignored them.
For ten days the Hopewell followed an erratic course down the west side of the islands. Hudson had to constantly shift direction as the crew battled heavy winds, driving rain, and thick fog. On July 27, the crew of the Hopewell faced near disaster.
Throughout the voyage, whenever the ship was within sight of ice, Hudson wisely kept his distance. The Hopewell was a stout little ship, but a collision with the granite-like ice could have cracked her hull open like an eggshell. For several days, as they tacked back and forth, the crew saw no ice. Then the day came that none of them would ever forget.
The Hopewell was shrouded in fog, rain was falling, and the wind was light. The sea was calm, but the ship rose and fell on a heavy swell. Visibility was nil, so Hudson ordered reduced sails. As the ship was carried along on the swells, a low rumbling noise came out of the grey murk. It sounded like waves striking a shore. But Hudson knew they were not near enough to any land to hear the crash of surf.
Map of the Spitzbergen Islands.
The noise grew louder, and Hudson realized that the swells were carrying the Hopewell toward the source. Could there be yet another uncharted island out in the fog? Hudson shouted to the helmsman to alter course. He sent men aloft to put out more sail. But without a good breeze the sails were useless. All attempts to change the ship’s direction with the whipstaff were to no avail.
The sound of crashing surf became thunderous. One sailor shouted for God’s mercy. Another voice cursed Hudson for leading them to their doom.
Then, through a fleeting window in the fog, Hudson saw the ice pack! It looked as solid and menacing as a wall of rock. Huge rollers were smashing against it in explosions of white foam and spray. The growls and groans of the ice slabs grinding against each other were like a din from hell. The Hopewell was heading straight for that ice, carried along like a piece of driftwood.
Hudson sensed panic spreading through the crew. “Launch the gig!” he ordered.
Colman cried, “Captain, there isn’t enough room in the gig for all of us, and what chance …”
Hudson cut him off. “Don’t question my orders, Mr. Colman,” he barked angrily. “Launch the gig! We’re not abandoning ship! I want a line fastened to the bow, with the other end to the gig. Put your six strongest rowers in the gig. Do it, man! Now!”
Colman thought the plan was hopeless,
