crew, by whose aid he kept the galley on the course for Candia. Each morning he would scan the horizon for land with such a scrutiny as Columbus may be supposed to have pierced the distance before the coast of the new world loomed into view; and at each sunset did the hopeful Foxe cheer his men with the promise of land on the morrow. But as starvation pressed upon the men, and day after day passed away bringing nought save sea and sky to view, a sluggish desperation began to prostrate each heart, Even the intrepid Foxe feared lest that Alexandrian galley should prove the floating sepulchre of those dying forms he saw lying helplessly on the deck. At length, on January 29th, the mountains of Candia were seen a-head. Now every heart was aroused, and new strength nerved each arm. Swiftly the oars were plied; and before sunset they were visited by a Venetian war-galley from the harbour. The strangers were all immediately taken into a monastery, and soon recovered from the exhaustion produced by their late sufferings. The monks hung up the sword with which Foxe had killed the harbour-master against one of their abbeywalls, for a memorial of the event.

When the strength of the crew was restored, it was resolved to sail towards the coast of Italy; and Foxe brought the galley into the bay of Tarento. Whilst resting here, information was received that a Turkish squadron had been despatched after them, and must have passed within a few miles of their galley on her course to Tarento. This intelligence so terrified the companions of Foxe that it was resolved to travel no farther by sea. Accordingly, the galley which had been taken from Alexandria was sold, and the proceeds equally divided; after which all proceeded to Naples, where each took the road leading to his own home. Foxe journeyed to Rome, which city he entered on Easter eve, and was received into the house of a fellow-countryman. His marvellous escape was soon rumoured through the city, and reached the pope, who presented large gifts to Foxe, besides furnishing him with letters of recommendation to the king of Spain.

Enriched by these gifts, the English sailor departed homewards through Spain. Foxe was introduced to the Spanish monarch, whose admiration of his courage and

energy was evinced by the grant of a pension for life, and the bestowment of the rank and pay of a gunner in the Spanish navy. Foxe did not remain in Spain, but hastened to those shores from which he had been so long an exile. He reached England in safety, where he was not suffered to remain without the reward suited to his high deserts. The royal council settled a maintenance on this bravehearted man, and thus enabled him to spend his latter days in peace, the more prized by its contrast with the years of misery he had endured.

His

Whether John Foxe lived to aid his fellow-countrymen in the great contest with the Spanish armada—whether age had then made him a passive spectator of the mighty struggle, or whether death had removed him from all earthly strife to the world of spirits, is unknown. subsequent career concerns us not; but his long-enduring resistance to evil, and the wise courage which rendered him finally triumphant, may be advantageously studied by men of every age. All are exposed to ills: all may need, in various forms, the exertion of long-sustained patience and a fearless heart; which qualities the example of Foxe nobly illustrates.

Before concluding this chapter, it is natural to revert to the change which, since the days of Foxe, has influenced the trade of the Mediterranean. Then the merchant might be ruined by the attack of African sea-robbers, his crew enslaved or murdered; now the last of the Algerines have been swept from that sea, where a pirate is unknown. Thus civilization has destroyed the chance of further adventures like those of John Foxe.

V.

THE SAILOR ABANDONED;

OR,

THE WINTERING OF EIGHT ENGLISHI SEAMEN ON THE COAST OF SPITZBERGEN IN 1630-1.

M

FOST readers are interested by those narratives which bring before them man struggling against calamity; and this interest is wonderfully increased when the sufferer is placed far from human aid or human sympathy. We contemplate with intense emotion man abandoned on the sandy desert, the sea, the lone island, or amidst the gloom and wild desolation of a polar winter. We delight (it may be from self-love) to see our nature victorious over accumulated ills, and acquire, from the patience and courage displayed by others, a contempt for effeminacy, whether of mind or body. Such is one source of the pleasure felt by the boy in reading Robinson Crusoe; he sees energy in Crusoe; he loves it; he would rejoice to do the like; and the hardihood he admires becomes in some degree his own. Thus, all who triumph under difficulties become the teachers of a noble daring to their fellow-men. Hence, from the most fearful evils are drawn lessons which form high and exalted spirits. The following account does not exhibit the qualities which mankind have agreed to call splendid, but rather those which form the basis of all that is great in human nature, viz.-unflinching courage and forethought combined with dependence on God,

In the year 1630, an English whale ship, named the "Salutation," was busily engaged in the fishery of Spitz

bergen,* at which place our whale fisheries commenced towards the close of Queen Elizabeth's reign. On a calm and beautiful day in August, the captain of the ship sent eight men on shore to kill deer. They hunted from place to place, meeting with abundance of game; and, evening coming on, they prepared a plentiful venison supper, resolving to pass the night on shore. This resolution, though perfectly natural in their circumstances, led to those sufferings which have given to these men a place in maritime annals. In the morning a dense fog prevented any attempt to reach the ship, and before the mist dispersed a gale arose, which forced the "Salutation" to stand out for sea. This happened on the 13th of August.

The sudden departure of the ship caused no great alarm, as the men knew she must touch at a place called Greenharbour, where twenty of the crew had been left. They therefore resolved to pursue their hunting along the coast to Green-harbour, and thus increase the store of provision for the voyage homewards.

On the 16th Green-harbour was reached, but no ship could be seen; their comrades had left the place-a plain proof that the ship had visited the bay and departed. This excited some surprise, but still the seamen felt little alarm, as there was yet a hope that their ship, with others, would be found at a harbour named Bell Sound; a place where the whale ships usually collected previously to their final departure homewards. There were but three days remaining ere all the whale vessels would sail. The party therefore immediately set out in their boat to Bell Sound, about fortyeight miles distant. The men were now getting anxious ; the dread of abandonment on this lone spot to the terrors of the Arctic winter was beginning to harass them. Under this fear they threw all the venison which they had procured overboard, in order to lighten their boat. The fogs again caused them disappointment, as the boat passed Bell Sound without perceiving it, and went thirty miles beyond.

Sus

*The place is called Greenland by the narrator, but that name was given to Spitzbergen by Sir Hugh Willoughby, who discovered the island in 1533. About sixty years later, the Dutch navigators named the place Spitzbergen-a term signifying sharp or peaked-mountains, and therefore fitted to express the appearance of the coast.

pecting their mistake, the crew turned back, but, again misled by appearances, sailed in their former track. At last they regained the right course, and on August the 20th entered Bell Sound. Their eager eyes wandered round the bay, but no ship appeared in view. Hope was now becoming faint; yet cach man clung to the expectation of still finding the ship. Every point round the bay was searched, and at last they reached an inlet called Bottle Cove, where alone the ship could be now expected. The inlet was desolate; no sounds nor sight of human presence, save their own, disturbed the monotony of its loneliness. The last ray of hope, which had up to this moment lightened their hearts, now departed. They had often heard strange reports of the terrors of a polar winter; they knew that no rewards had hitherto tempted even criminals to pass a winter in this region. They also remembered that on the very shore where they now stood, a boat's crew had once been left by their own captain, as they were, and that every man had perished. Added to this, they were without provisions, adequate clothing, or any of those resources which enable hardy modern seamen to guard against the rigours of a polar winter. The reader of this narrative must remember the vast difference between a crew at the present time, furnished with all the aids which science and long experience can suggest, when compared with the eight sailors of the "Salutation in the year 1630. The latter had none of the helps just mentioned, and were under the additional disadvantage of being taken unawares by the calamity. Two plans were before the deserted crew one, that of attempting to reach England in their open boat-a desperate expedient; but this seemed preferable to a contest with the unknown horrors of the long northern winter. The ice, however, was now blocking up the sea, and thus prevented the adoption of this plan. The other was, to sail at once to Green-harbour, and attempt to kill deer for a store of food through the approaching winter. This scheme the men resolutely carried out; and having procured a large number of deer, departed for Bell Sound, where they intended to make preparations for passing the winter. The food procured was of three kinds-venison, bear's flesh, and a quantity of the refuse of whale's flesh, left by some of the ships on the shore. These stores they de