But not east. Not back across the Ottawa River, where the man speaking the strange language had seen him, chased after him. Better to turn toward the security of home. Although to suggest that he still had anything other than the vaguest perception of what home was and where it might be found would be misleading. His uncertain instincts would eventually take him west. But not too far west. As poor an understanding of geography as he had, and as unable as he was to interpret the large wooden signs with maps he occasionally puzzled over by the side of the road, the Great White Moose sensed that he must remain within a certain territory. It was purely by chance that the limits of that territory coincided precisely with the boundaries of Ontario.
Now at this point I feel obliged to anticipate an objection that some readers, whether human or moose, are bound to raise: “Here we have, in the Great White Moose, what is apparently a clumsy attempt at a metaphor for Canadian identity. Yet does the moose wander into New Brunswick and cross the Confederation Bridge to Prince Edward Island, or find his way to Cape Breton and catch the ferry to Newfoundland? Does he migrate west across the Prairies to British Columbia or north to Nunavut and the Yukon? Or, for that matter, does he even place a solitary hoof on Manitoba soil? No, most assuredly not. In fact, other than a brief and notably unsuccessful excursion into Quebec, he remains entirely within the political jurisdiction where he was born. What conceit! What typical Ontario conceit! To believe that the totality of the Canadian experience can be represented by a denizen of the most privileged, the most self-satisfied—hence the most unrepresentative—of provinces.”
To which I can only reply that, in my honest opinion, the Great White Moose should not be held accountable if he has mistakenly concluded that larger truths can somehow be derived from the narrow circumstances of his own personal history. It is, after all, a mistake that humans commonly make. And it would seem rather hard to hold a moose to higher standards. Even a Great White Moose.
XXXVII
At around the same time the Great White Moose experienced the inchoate stirrings that led him to abandon the security of Elk Lake, Richard Hakluyt the younger returned to the little cottage in Saffron Walden to report to Yale Templeton’s mother on his efforts to raise a search party for the man he knew simply as Y.
“I can not tell you what restlesse nights, what painefull dayes, what heat, what cold I have indured,” he began. “How many long & chargeable journeys I have traveiled; into how manifold acquaintance I have entred; what expenses I have not spared; and yet what faire opportunities of private gaine, preferment, and ease I have neglected; albeit thy selfe canst hardly imagine, yet I by daily experience do finde & feele, and some of my entier friends can sufficiently testifie.”
This all had a familiar ring to it. Had she not heard it before? Perhaps not. “This Commonwealth wherein you live and breathe takes due note of your sacrifices,” she responded.
“Truly that makes all my difficulties seeme easie, all paines and industrie pleasant, and all expenses of light value and moment unto me.”
She nodded graciously. “But before you proceed further,” she said, “I should apprise you of some new information I have received from Canada about the noble young man whose fate I have entrusted to your hands. It appears that he has lately made his way to a French settlement.”
Richard Hakluyt stroked his beard in thought. “A French settlement. That is in deede interesting.”
She searched his face silently.
“I would be soe bolde as to suggest, Your Majestie,” he responded at length, “that Y. hath anticipated us here.”
“Anticipated us? In what sense?”
“I did offer the opinion on my last visite, did I not, that the French in Canada will ere long come to recognise the benefitt of gentle English governance? In all probabilitie, Y. has sought out the settlers from France with that ende in minde.”
“Do you think so? But he writes that he remained with the French less than a day. He was unable to arrange a meeting with the leader of the community, and they fed him some food fit only for the Irish.”
“Ah, that is disappointing, to be sure. But we may assume, I think, that Y. hath conceived of this preliminarie contacte as a way to prepare the grounde for future negociations.”
“Very promising, if true. Still, the communication I have received indicates that he continues in the company of that American Savage widow whose likeness I am loath to look upon.”
“I see. Dost thou beleve he is yet under her spell?”
“It would appear so from his communication, yes.”
“Then we must proceede posthaste to free the valiant Y. from his bewitchment and provyde him with the men and materials he will need to bringe to fruition Your Majestie’s wishes. In that regarde I have good news to report. I beleve I have founde a leader for our expedition.”
“Sir Martin, I presume?”
He dropped his eyes, dismayed that she was unaware of what he now must reveal to her. “Alas, Your Majestie, the brave Frobisher was mortally wounded by the Spaniardes off the coast of France some yeares since.”
“This news does grieve me most sorely.”
“A great loss for us all, truly.”
She dabbed at her eyes. “Then if not Sir Martin, who? John Davis?”
“Not Davis himself, but an able member of his crewe, one Henry Hudson.”
“Henry Hudson,” she said to herself. “Henry Hudson. I do not believe I know that name.”
“In all likelihood not, Your Majestie. He is a man yet unheralded outside the circle of adventurers, albeit I have no hesitation in saying that he is destyned to win renowne for his traveils in the New Worlde.”
“Then tell me about him. Who are his people? What services has he performed for the Crown?”
“I do so gladly, Your Majestie. His grandfather was an alderman in the citie of London involved with the younger Cabot in founding the Muscovy Company. His father was a man of some substance, a member of the Skinners & Tanners with propertie in Lincolnshire. After he, by which I mean the father, died, his widow married Richard Champion, who, I am sure Your Majestie will recall, served as Lorde Mayor of London. The Hudson family coat of arms is an argent semée of fleurs-de-lis gules, a crosse engrailed sable.
“Henry Hudson first gained his passion for overseas exploration in the offices of the Muscovy Company. He did subsequently take parte in trading missions to the Mediterranean, the North Sea, and the coast of Africa. In 1587 he shipped out with John Davis in search of the Northwest Passage, returning in time to serve heroically in our triumphant battle against the king of Spaines’ dreadfull Armada.”
“And you are satisfied that he is the man to lead our expedition?”
“I am, Your Majestie. He not only hath studied all the logbooks of those who sailed before him, but I have procured for him the journals of the Dutch explorer Willem Barents. And he is entierly familiar with the mappes of Mercator, Ortelius, Hondius, and Petrus Plancius.”
“Sir, I have always found your judgment to be impeccable. If you believe he is qualified to serve the interests of the Crown, then I have no hesitation in giving my approval. And when might I meet this estimable young man?”
“Immediately, Your Majestie, he tarries outside.”
“Then by all means show him in.”
“I am most pleased to do so.”
XXXVIII
But in fact Richard Hakluyt the younger was something less than pleased to do so. He had serious misgivings about what Henry Hudson might say. That his name was Sebastian Higgs, for instance. That was how he had introduced himself when he arrived at the rectory in Wetheringsett. He had heard about the plans for an expedition and wanted to offer his services. “You see, I was Henry Hudson in a previous life,” he had explained. A man of unbalanced mind, Richard Hakluyt had decided. And if others had responded to the call for volunteers, he would have summarily turned Sebastian Higgs away at the door. But there had been no others. And so he had invited the eager young man in
.
The conversation that followed had been, to say the least, rather unusual. Sebastian Higgs, according to his claims, had lived many previous lives. He had been a Norman archer at the Battle of Hastings, a Benedictine monk, Geoffrey of Monmouth, a signatory to the Magna Carta, the Wife of Bath. He had been wounded at Acre during the Third Crusade. He had been wounded at Agincourt during the Hundred Years’ War. He had been slain at Bosworth Field during the Wars of the Roses. But even more fantastical were his claims about what would happen in the future (what, in his representation of things, had already happened!): A rebellion in which an English monarch would lose not only this throne but his head. The emergence of a political philosophy based on the principle that all men are born with “natural rights.” A “Glorious Revolution” in which Parliament would assert its authority over the Crown. He himself, under the name of Isaac Newton, would discover mathematical laws explaining the movement of the planets. He would march off in the army of Lord Wellington to fight the French, then, more than a hundred years later, march off in the army of a General Montgomery to save them. He would be a mill owner in the Midlands; a dockworker in Liverpool. And in his present life, as Sebastian Higgs, he was something called a “computer systems analyst.”
Now, if these wild fantasies were all Sebastian Higgs had to offer, obviously Richard Hakluyt would never have seriously considered him as a candidate to lead the search for Yale Templeton. But the future he described included an empire for England, an empire the like of which Richard Hakluyt the younger had foretold in his writings. An empire of such grandeur that it would cast the Roman Empire into insignificance. An empire extending to all corners of the world. And an empire, it must be added, whose potentially richest possession was that vast northern expanse where the courageous Y. had chosen to cast his lot among the Savages.
And there was more. Sebastian Higgs had many innovative ideas that, on the face of them, sounded quite reasonable—ideas that Richard Hakluyt was prepared to concede were ahead of their time. About marine navigation, to cite just one example. He drew a diagram of a device he claimed to have invented in a later life (by which I mean later than his life as Henry Hudson) that allowed sailors to determine degrees of longitude. A chronometer, he called it. The design seemed entirely plausible, Richard Hakluyt had to admit.
Beyond that, Sebastian Higgs expressed a very personal reason for wanting to cross the Atlantic. He wished, he said, to recover his self-respect.
“Historians have written that I was indecisive,” he complained, “that I wasted time tracking up and down the shore of the bay that has come to bear my name.”
(“Come to beare his name?” thought Richard Hakluyt.)
“They say that my men starved, that I drove them to mutiny. But my travels along the waters of the northern wilderness were not aimless. I saw immediately that we had arrived at a land rich beyond our dreams. Not in gold and silver, perhaps, but in trees, animals, useful metals. Many brave sailors had given their lives in the quest for a Northwest Passage. But why yearn for the silks and spices of Cathay when you can have the beaver pelts and nickel of Canada?”
(“Nickel?” thought Richard Hakluyt.)
“And we did not starve, I assure you. I had the crew set up a small camp in the woods where I assigned each man a task appropriate to his station in life. Indeed, I saw it as my duty to fulfill your injunction to remake the New World in the image of our own blessed Commonwealth. But there were those among the men—the Dutch, in particular, and that scoundrel Henry Greene—who placed their personal ambitions above the advancement of our nation. One night, while I was asleep, they sailed off in the Discovery, never to be seen again by me in this life.”
“But,” objected Richard Hakluyt, “Abacuk Prickett did testifie when he returned to England that the mutineers set thee adrift in a shallop. He made no mention of an encampment.”
“The traitors did not want anyone to know they had sabotaged an enterprise that promised untold glory for the Crown. Your call for volunteers came to me as an opportunity—an opportunity to replicate the voyage to Canada I made when I was Henry Hudson. But pray tell me, what prompts you to mount an expedition at this particular time?”
And so Richard Hakluyt explained to Sebastian Higgs about the courageous Y.—about his bold decision to cross the seas so that he could educate the Savages and about his subsequent bewitchment by a Native widow. He also predicted that once Y. was liberated from her spell, he would use his multitude of talents to demonstrate to both the Native population and French settlers the many advantages to be realised from English rule, and to secure the vast north of the New World for the Crown.
“It is what I myself intended to do,” Sebastian Higgs said wistfully. “And does this mission go forward with the blessing of the Queen?”
“It does,” replied Richard Hakluyt. “In deede, it was Her Majestie who first did bringe the plight of Y. to my attention and it was she who charged me with the responsibilitie for effecting his rescue.”
“Then, sir, I must insist that you avail yourself of my services. Not only have I always been a loyal servant of the Crown, but I particularly admire the present Queen for the discretion with which she has handled the many derelictions of her children.”
“Her children?!”
“Yes, her children. Especially her eldest son.”
“Queen Elizabeth has no son, nor daughter neither! She took a vow never to marry!”
“Sir, you jest with me. Of course she married. She married Philip.”
“Philip?! Philip?! Her greatest enemie?!”
(Now here it should be noted what you already may have guessed. While Sebastian Higgs was speaking of Queen Elizabeth II and her consort, Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh, Richard Hakluyt was speaking of Elizabeth I and Philip II of Spain, who at one time offered Elizabeth marriage but later plotted her assassination, laid a claim to the English throne, and sent the Armada on its ill-fated invasion.)
Sebastian Higgs and Richard Hakluyt continued on in this same vein for some minutes longer. Anyone familiar with the comic routines of Abbott and Costello should have little difficulty reconstructing their dialogue. I myself refrain from doing so only because I have no wish to detract from the otherwise serious nature of their conversation. It is enough to point out that, by the time they had sorted out their misunderstanding, Sebastian Higgs had concluded that the woman who had commissioned the expedition to save Y. had been Elizabeth I in a previous life. And Richard Hakluyt had concluded that the man who called himself Sebastian Higgs almost certainly belonged in Bethlem. Still, he had to admit, the fellow had a remarkable knowledge of navigation and geography. Under careful supervision—the kind of supervision Richard Hakluyt had every confidence he himself could provide—Sebastian Higgs might well be able to lead a successful rescue mission. In any case, no one else had presented himself as a candidate for the job.
The two men talked at some length about the hazards of sea travel. The bitter cold, the storms, the icebergs, the leviathans. Sebastian Higgs—but, no, it is time I start calling him Henry Hudson, since that is how he will be known to Yale Templeton’s mother—Henry Hudson described in great detail his reaction on sighting a gargantuan pod of whales off Spitsbergen Island. “They were awe inspiring, truly awe inspiring. It pains me deeply to think that some refer to me as ‘the grandfather of the whaling industry.’”
They talked as well about the diseases commonly faced by mariners. And here Henry Hudson had some novel solutions to offer. “It is now possible to vaccinate crew members to ensure that they do not contract typhus, to supply them with citrus fruits from the tropics to spare them the black gums and swollen limbs of scurvy, to give them antibiotics to treat dysentery.”
(“Vaccinate?” wondered Richard Hakluyt. “Antibiotics?”)
He also had many revolutionary ideas about how to deal with problems of food preservation, dead beer, and the cramped, cold quarters found on seagoing vessels. (Richard Hakluyt did think, however, that he
was too dismissive of the potential dangers posed by pirates.) In the end they formalized the terms of an agreement. Henry Hudson would take on the task of securing a suitable ship and hiring a crew. However, he would make regular reports to Richard Hakluyt, who would retain ultimate authority over all aspects of the expedition.
XXXIX
So it is evident why Richard Hakluyt the younger was filled with misgivings when he introduced Henry Hudson to Yale Templeton’s mother. Indeed, he had spent many hours preparing the younger man for that very moment, providing him with a suitable set of clothes, instructing him in the proper manner and speech to adopt in the presence of Her Majesty, and doing his very best to convince him that any comments he made about alleged developments subsequent to the sixteenth century would be damaging to his prospects for winning her favour.
And by and large things turned out very well, better than Richard Hakluyt had anticipated. The one troublesome moment came shortly after the two men entered the little cottage. Henry Hudson was admiring the several tapestries hanging on the walls when his eyes fell on a painting just to the side of the throne, a portrait of Henry VIII.
“A remarkable study, Your Highness,” he said.
“The likeness of Father, you mean. Yes, quite remarkable. Holbein did a fine job, I must say.”
“He did, indeed. And the copy you have is almost as impressive as the original.”
“As the original! Whatever can you mean? This is the original!”
“Surely not. I saw the original last month. In Madrid.”
“What!! In Madrid! You mean that despicable Philip claims to have this very same portrait?!”
(Knowledgeable readers will know that Philip II made Madrid the location of his royal court in 1561 and that the famous Holbein painting of Henry VIII, executed around 1537, is currently in the collection of the Thyssen-Bornemisza Gallery, also in Madrid.)
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