Icebound

by Andrea Pitzer

  Though they’d mostly sailed along the coast on their trip, which they could track with the map Barents had made, as soon as they left sight of land, the loss of William Barents as chief navigator had been felt. They couldn’t find their location with any accuracy. They ended up spending the night where they were.

  The next day, one of the sailors went to explore the area. He came back urging his shipmates to return with him. Not far inland, he explained, trees appeared, and the land turned green. There was game to shoot. The crew had been forced to fast for several days with only some moldy bread remaining, and each man getting only four ounces a day of that, roughly one slice. They wondered how soon they might die of hunger.

  But on August 6, they decided to press on, to get past what they thought was the opening of a creek—but was actually the mouth of a river. They rowed for twelve miles against the wind until they couldn’t fight it any longer. “Heartlesse and faint,” they saw the land on the opposite shore still stretching northward out of sight.

  The next day, the wind pushed them into the river, but they sailed eastward back the way they’d come until they emerged from the river mouth once more. They’d wasted days only to end up on the same spot where they’d first gone ashore. On August 8, the weather was no better, and the wind remained opposed to any forward motion by the boats. The vessels sat some distance apart, and in de Veer’s boat, despair was mounting. Stuck in place without food all day, they waited for the wind.

  August 9 was no better, and a desire for death began to take root. Two men went out from van Heemskerck’s boat, heading for land. Two more went out from de Veer’s boat, and together the four walked several miles inland. There they found a beacon and the corpse of a dead walrus. They dragged it back with them, thinking to use it to feed the men. But the corpse stunk ferociously, and their fellow sailors back in the boats thought it would surely kill everyone. In the end, they decided not to tempt fate.

  The following day offered only dirty weather, pinning everyone in the boats. It was so miserable that the sailors kept their silence, knowing there was no good news to share by talking. On August 11, van Heemskerck announced they would set out again. Gerrit de Veer was brought into the scute, and a sailor from it was sent over to take his place in the rowboat. Though only in his twenties—at what should have been the height of his strength—de Veer had grown too weak to row, and the boat couldn’t be managed with only the remaining men. Those who still could began rowing and kept at it until a hard wind rose up. The sails were struck, the oars came out, and once more they headed back to shore. But they’d managed to sail for most of the day.

  Being ashore meant they might get fresh water, but on land, they couldn’t find any. The weather was foul, and they laid the sails over each boat like a roof. Thunder and lightning plagued them, and they had no peace.

  On August 12, the weather improved, and they spotted a Russian ship at sea headed toward them. Begging the permission of the captain, the crew took the boats into deeper water to meet with the visitors. Van Heemskerck went aboard to try to find out how much longer they had to sail to reach Kanin Nos, but the language barrier made it difficult to get any clear answer. Their hosts held up five fingers, and eventually the Dutch sailors understood there would be five crosses on it. The Russians demonstrated to them with a compass that the place lay northwest of their current location. Van Heemskerck made his way deeper into the ship and pointed at a barrel of fish, holding up a Spanish coin. They took the coin and gave him more than a hundred fish, along with some meal cakes. The Dutchmen divided everything evenly without regard to rank. Finally, they could eat.

  A south wind helped them in their quest to sail west and north. Thunder and rain overtook them, but the storm quickly died down and they sailed on. Later, they went ashore, with two men hunting for a good vantage from which to spot the point of Kanin Nos, where they would set out to cross the open sea. The scouts spotted a house with no one home and, looking along the coastline, felt sure that they’d arrived. The sailors took heart in the news, and went back to their boats again and began to row along the coast. They spotted the wreck of a Russian ship and another house, which they stopped to investigate. Again, they found no one home but discovered some spoon-wort along the way, which they brought back to share.

  They had a strong wind from the east, which worked in their favor. In the afternoon, they passed the outcropping of land they’d seen and were filled with anticipation. They met up to plan, and boarded each other’s boats. Carefully dividing all the candles, supplies, and cargo, each man also gathered his own possessions to keep with him, in case the boats lost track of one another other while crossing the White Sea. They hoisted sails and set out across open water, braced for the battering they knew the boats would take.

  Near midnight, a violent storm struck. The scute took in some sails to better weather it, but the rowboat did not. In the squall, the two boats were separated. They continued to sail into the morning on August 14, and as the weather cleared, the men in the scute spotted the rowboat in the distance, but they couldn’t catch up. Fog set in, and they gave up any hope of pursuit. But they thought they’d keep to the planned course and try to meet up with the other boat on the far shores of the White Sea.

  De Veer’s company sailed west northwest, as well as they could reckon it, with their sails up for the first part of the day. But when the wind turned against them, they returned to the oars, though they wondered at their compass and whether it might be malfunctioning. The next day, they continued alternating oars and sails and caught sight of land. As they worked their way toward the coast, they noticed six Russian ships.

  They sailed up to ask how far it was to Kildin Island. Though the language barrier that had plagued them before was just as much in effect, the Russians seemed to say that Kildin was still some distance away. Not only that, but they seemed to be claiming that the Dutchmen were still on the eastern side of the river mouth at Kanin Nos—that they hadn’t crossed the White Sea at all. Their hosts spread their hands out to show great distance, adding that the foreigners’ boat was too small to survive the trip.

  The baffled sailors asked for some bread and were given a dry loaf that they ate with pleasure. Parting company with the Russians, they concluded that there must be some confusion. The men refused to believe that they hadn’t reached the White Sea yet. On August 16, catching sight of another ship that appeared to have sailed out of the open water they’d just left behind, they approached it, rowing with great difficulty.

  Once aboard the ship, the Dutchmen asked how far they were from Kildin Island. These Russians had the same response as the others, indicating that they were still on the east side of the river mouth. Again, the Dutchmen refused to believe it.

  Van Heemskerck asked the Russians for some food, and after paying for it, headed back to the scute. Preparing to leave, they readied themselves to work against the current to get clear of the inlet they’d entered to catch the ship. Knowing that high tide would soon ebb, the Russians sent two men in a small boat, inviting the foreigners to come back to the ship. They passed along a loaf of bread, which the castaways thanked and paid them for, but van Heemskerck wanted to set out without delay. Seeing that they remained unconvinced, the Russians aboard the ship dangled bacon and butter to beckon them.

  After their guests climbed aboard again, the Russians showed them their location on a map, insisting that they were still east of the White Sea. Pulling out their own chart, they examined it with the Russians, who infected their guests with doubt and alarm. They seemed to have hardly covered any distance at all.

  Realizing that they’d yet to find the White Sea, the Dutchmen dreaded the idea of crossing such a large body of water in unsafe boats with no food. Remembering how much difficulty their friends in the missing rowboat faced navigating choppy water compared to those in the scute, they feared for their mates’ lives.

  Van Heemskerck bought three sacks of meal, two and a half sides of unsliced bacon, a pot of
butter, and a small cask of honey to share between the scute and the rowboat, whenever they might find it again. They set out with the ebb of water in search of their friends and Kanin Nos, which would appear if ever they reached the eastern shore of the White Sea. They thought at one point that evening that they might have arrived, but when they got to the place where the land had seemed to stretch out into the water, they found it merely fell away to the northwest. Making little progress against the tide, they stopped and cooked a pot of meal with bacon fat and honey, practically a Twelfth Night feast. But there was no sign of the rowboat or their shipmates—who were surely just as hungry but rowing with no meal at hand—which dampened some of their delight.

  Early in the morning of August 17, they met up with another Russian ship. A sailor aboard brought them a loaf of bread. Through gestures, the Russians seemed to say that the rowboat with their friends had been spotted. Hardly believing it, the Dutchmen tried to get more information, and learned that seven men had been aboard. Just the day before, the Russians had sold men in the rowboat bread, meat, fish, and other food. Recognizing a compass the sailors had likely traded for provisions, van Heemskerck and the crew of the scute were overjoyed that their mates were on the same course and also had at least some food.

  They left quickly, in the hope of catching up to their friends. They rowed hard, fearing that the other crew might not have enough to eat to keep going for long. Near midnight, they saw current flowing ashore, and stopped to collect fresh water on land, gathering more spoon-wort leaves as they went. The next day, they rowed along the coastline after hoisting their anchor—which in their poor scute wasn’t a real anchor, but a stone at the end of a rope. At midday, they looked out and saw an outcropping of land stretching into the sea, with what looked like, perhaps, several crosses. As they drew near, the crosses grew clearer. Five crosses. They’d finally reached Kanin Nos.

  While making final preparations to sail one hundred sixty miles across the sea without any possibility of landfall, they noticed one of their casks of water had leaked and sat nearly empty. They looked for a place ashore to refill it, but the waves were too brutal, and they gave up all thought of stopping. Under a favorable northeast wind, they set out and passed Kanin Nos with the evening sun. Their sails carried the boat into the night and all through the next day, with only an hour and a half of rowing. They sailed throughout the evening, and as the sun rose the next morning, they heard the sound of waves breaking on the shore. After only thirty hours out of sight of land, they caught sight of cliffs, hills, and mountains that seemed a world apart from the low terrain they’d seen on the eastern side of the sea. The passage on their homeward journey that they most feared had turned out to be the easiest.

  But the fair wind abandoned them there, and they decided to try to get to shore. The scute now sat along a more heavily traveled sea route, and sailors found warnings and guides posted along the coast to help direct them. Heading to a sheltered stretch near shore that was posted as safe, they saw a large Russian ship at anchor and a string of houses by the shore. As they rowed quickly to it and dropped their anchor stone, it began to pour. Stopping to cover their boat with a sail, they went onto the beach and up to the houses. The sailors there invited them into their quarters. The visitors were made welcome: their soaked clothing was dried, and their hosts cooked fish to feed them.

  The cabins housed thirteen fishermen, who went out each day to fish under the direction of two supervisors. They had nothing of their own, and only lived off fish and more fish. With little else to offer, they invited van Heemskerck and de Veer to spend the night in their cabins. Van Heemskerck declined, and said he would stay with his men, but de Veer, who had been very ill, slept away from his mates that night. Along with the Russians were two Sami men, three women, and a child, who seemed to be fed only on the scraps provided by the Russians.

  Night turned to day on August 21, and it continued to rain. Van Heemskerck bought fresh fish for the crew. Cooking some of their ground meal with water, the men ate until they found their stomachs full. They felt at peace. As the rain diminished, the boat stayed at anchor, while some of the crew went farther inland for more spoon-wort. Up in the hills, they spotted two figures coming toward them, and wondered if the region was somehow more populated than they’d realized.

  Making their way back toward the scute, they realized the two men they’d seen were following them. As the pair came in sight of the scute near the shore, the men grew excited, and de Veer’s company realized it was their mates from the rowboat. They’d landed somewhere nearby and met by chance. The new arrivals were hungry but had no money with which to buy fish. So they’d planned to trade a pair of pants for food. The sailors from the scute fed the mates who hadn’t eaten, and everyone had as much water as he wished.

  The rowboat joined the scute the next day, and the Dutchmen asked the Russians to bake a sack of meal into bread for them. As the fishermen brought their catch back, their guests bought four cod from them and cooked it. The Russians gave them extra bread for good measure.

  On August 23, the cook kneaded and baked bread from another sack of meal, and they prepared to set sail again. Van Heemskerck gave the Russians a good tip for their generosity, and also paid the cook for his help. The Russians asked for some of the crew’s gunpowder, which they were given, the Dutchmen having little use for it away from the bears. Before leaving shore, they divided the remaining meal between the scute and the rowboat, so that neither crew would go hungry if the sea separated them again. They headed out out near evening and kept close to land.

  The next day, they got as far as a group of seven islands marked on their map. Asking the fishermen they met to point the way to Kildin Island, the fishermen directed them westward, throwing a cod in their boat as a gift, and they sailed on. They had no plans to search for passage home at Kildin, but Kildin was on the way to Wardhuys, where they felt certain they could find a ship to carry them.

  Later the same day, farther along the coast, a boat of fishermen rowed out to ask where their ship was. Having some experience by then, the Dutchmen were able to say Korabl propal, and it was understood that their boat was lost. The fishermen seemed to say that there were Dutch ships not far away at Kola, a trading town at the mouth of a narrow inlet on the mainland. But van Heemskerck put no stock in the idea and kept his plan to sail to Wardhuys.

  They sighted Kildin on August 25, and navigated between it and the mainland, arriving at its western end. They anchored near a Russian ship they spotted there, and van Heemskerck went ashore to nearby houses. The Sami who lived there told him that three ships from the Netherlands were at Kola, and two would be setting sail that day. Van Heemskerck returned ready to leave, thinking that the crew might be able make a run to Wardhuys to intercept the vessels. But as they tried to go to sea, the wind beat them back with such force it was clear it would be foolish to try to sail that night. The sea went hollow again, and they feared that each wave might swamp the boat. They took refuge by sailing behind some cliffs toward land, and there found a house with three men and a large dog. Sharing some details of their misfortune, they heard for the third time that Dutch ships were slated to sail out from Kola that day.

  Asked if someone could take the Dutchmen to Kola by land, the three men declined. But they offered instead to escort their guests over the hill to a Sami man who might agree to take them. He proved willing, and van Heemskerck paid two Spanish dollars to send one of the Dutch sailors to Kola.

  On August 26, the skies had calmed. They pulled the boats ashore and emptied them, to air out their belongings. They carried food to the Russians’ house and cooked a meal. From here forward, they realized, enough coastal dwellers and fishermen would appear along their route that they no longer had to hoard their food. They’d begun to eat two meals a day, and were drinking Russian kvas, an alcoholic drink made from fermented bread. They collected blueberries and blackberries, further healing the damage scurvy had done.

  They still slept in th
e scute and the rowboat at night. On August 27, nasty weather out of the north compelled them to haul their makeshift homes farther up the shore to keep the high water from dragging their vessels into the water and flinging them back onto the rocks. After moving their boats, some men then went up to the Russians’ place to sit by the fire. While they were gone, the water roared up and pulled both boats into the sea.

  Two men had remained in the scute and three in the rowboat, but they couldn’t control the boats. All they could do was to try to keep them from being smashed to pieces. Eventually, the storm subsided and the boats were rescued from the surf, but in the meantime, the entire crew was out in the deluge for hours while it rained across the evening and all through the night into the next day.

  When the weather subsided somewhat on August 28, the boats could finally be pulled ashore again, and emptied once more. The rain persisted, and the crew laid the sails over the gunwales, to make a shelter for themselves. They wondered what had become of the man sent to Kola with his Sami escort, and whether any Dutch boats had been found there. They ate berries, and, looking for some sign, watched the hill their mate had gone over when departing. But the day passed without news.

  Night arrived, and morning came behind it, bringing clear weather. The sailors cooked their meat at the Russians’ fire and ate, then headed back to their boats to settle in for the night. On their way to the shore, they spotted the Sami man they’d sent out coming down the hill alone. They wondered what had happened and feared for their mate. Asked for an account of the trip, the man handed them a letter addressed to van Heemskerck.