Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan by Giles Milton Read Free Book Online Page A

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the Northwest Passage just a few years earlier, his men had been forced to keep a sharp eye on the icebergs and “were brought many times to the extreamest pointe of perill.” They had watched in horror as “planckes of timber, more than three inches thicke … were severed and cutte in sunder.” Even in midsummer, when the Arctic was at its most clement, a strong northerly wind could send a flurry of icebergs into previously open waters.
    The lack of clear skies was an additional hindrance to pilots whose equipment was dependent upon being able to take an accurate reading of the sun. “The sunne draweth near to the horizon in the north parts,” explained one, “[and] it is there commonly shadowed with vapours and thicke fogges.” In winter, the situation would become critical, for the land would be “deformed with horrible darkenesse and continuall nighte.”
    Despite the doom and gloom in London, Captains Pet and Jackman made rapid progress to the bustling port of Wardhouse, on today’s border between Russia and Finland, where they picked up fresh supplies. The William also underwent urgent repairs, for her rudder was damaged and she was found to be “somewhat leake.” It took a whole day to repair her hull.
    Shortly after leaving Wardhouse, Captains Pet and Jackman had their first disagreement. For reasons that remain obscure, Jackman wished to put into the next port. Pet taunted him for cowardice and sneeringly informed his erstwhile friend “that if he thought himselfe not able to keepe the sea, he should doe as he thought best.” He added that the crew of the George intended to press on alone. It was a remarkably foolish decision and one that explicitly broke the terms of their commission, which said, “You should never lose sight the one of the other.”
    Just four days later, Captain Pet recorded a brief but ominous entry in his diary: “This day we met with ice.” It was midsummer, and they were far to the south of the route that they would soon have to take, yet already there was ice in the sea. Pet ordered all the sails to be set, and they soon broke free of it. He concluded
that these icebergs were freak leftovers from winter, having lingered in some shady spot in the White Sea.
    After a further week’s sailing, through thick fog, showers, and thundery squalls, the crew gave a little cheer as they sighted the shores of Vaygach Island to the south of Novaya Zemlya. This speck of land marked the boundary between the Barents Sea and the Kara Sea—a milestone in their voyage to the Far East. As they pushed their vessels into the Kara Sea, they would be leaving Europe behind. These ice-littered waters pounded the shores of Asia.
    This made Vaygach Island a place of some strategic significance, and Hakluyt believed that it had been overlooked for too long. He had suggested to Pet and Jackman that they make their base there, or on one of the nearby islands, “from whence … we might feed those heathen nations with our commodities … without venturing our whole masse in the bowels of their countrey.” He suggested that they build a fort and a small warehouse, and encourage the merchants of Peking to make regular visits there. Using them as middlemen, the English could establish a trade network that spread its tentacles right across the Far East.
    Hakluyt’s plan was flawless, except in one important respect. Vaygach Island was not quite as close to Peking as he imagined; indeed, it lay approximately 2,500 miles from China’s imperial city, across a bleak Siberian wilderness of birch forest, tundra, and permafrost. There was also the Gobi Desert to be negotiated, as well as the great mountain ranges of northern Mongolia. It was most unlikely that China’s merchants would be willing to make such a voyage in order to acquire English socks and gloves.
    Nor, as the men discovered, was it an ideal place for a base. Vaygach was a desolate spot. There were no signs of any settlements or food