Ice Haven

By Stuart Wilson

In 1596, a merchant ship captained by the famous navigator William Barents, set sail from Amsterdam to find an Arctic north-east passage to Cathay and the Spice Islands. After surviving encounters with the savage Samoyede natives and the constant danger from crushing ice and hungry polar bears, their ship becomes hopelessly entombed in ice off the north coast of the uninhabited and desolate island of Nova Zembla, well within the Arctic Circle and a thousand miles from the nearest civilisation. Ice Haven is based on the diary of one of the men, Gerrit de Veer and tells, for the first time, the story of their fight for survival in the Arctic winter against constant darkness, intense cold, and one white bear who is out for revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stuart Wilson
• Release date: Apr 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476017259

Stuart Wilson

Stuart Wilson has worked in publishing, advertising and counselling, and he now runs a names consultancy. He lives in Devon. He is the author of Simply the Best Baby Name Book and The Pan Guide to Babies' Names.

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Ice Haven

by Stuart Wilson

Smashwords edition

Copyright 2012 Stuart Wilson

With gratitude to Kenneth Wilson for help with typing and editing

Discover other titles at http://www.drstuartwilson.com

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CONTENTS

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

I. Winter within the Arctic Circle

7th December, 1596

At the northernmost extent of Europe lies Tartaria. It is a vast empty land of permafrost where lichen and reindeer struggle to survive. Even further north, within the Arctic Circle, is the huge glacial island of Nova Zembla. Nova Zembla is hostile to life – any life. But in the year of our lord 1596, on the island’s northern-most shore, in the flesh-freezing depths of the Arctic winter, there was incredibly, a timber house, the only house.

How cold was it in that house? Despite the constant fire, the ice was as thick as a finger on the inside of the walls. Men pushed right up against the fire until their boots began to smoke but the heat still could not drive the ice crystals from their backs. When they urinated it tinkled like breaking glass as it turned to ice in mid flow. It was this cold because the sun had left them. It had left them on the 4th of November and it would be gone for quite some time.

Outside the house, the storm raged across the sea ice driving it against the shore. The ice complained, groaning from its belly until it cracked in a shock of noise as if a whole forest of tree trunks were being snapped in two. The din of breaking ice rolled across the land; over the den of the great white She-bear and over the roof of the house. To the bear it was the normal sound of winter but to the men, it was the sound of their world being torn apart.

Jacob could not sleep. He sat on the edge of his cot hugging the warmth of the coal fire. The glow of embers reflected in his eyes and cast a red sheen onto his sunken cheeks. His hair was long and greasy. His beard, once so neat and trim, had run to seed. Under his furs his body was stale. He hated to be so unkempt but in the depths of the longest darkness they all looked and suffered like animals. If the sun’s rays ever found him again he hoped he could become a civilised man again. He would bathe and be barbered and make the others do it too.

He was pleased with this resolution. As a soldier and a leader of men he understood the need to give men purpose. Even the smallest things could lift a man's spirit when it has sunk so low and, despite his efforts, over the last months the men’s spirits had sunk so very low through the intense cold and the interminable boredom.

Jacob leaned towards the fire. Using a frozen shoe he rolled a heated cannonball out of the embers, covered it with fox furs and heaved it onto the foot of his cot. He lay back on his mattress and pushed his feet under the furs as close to the hot iron as he dared without burning his toes. He suspected that one day he would accidently set himself on fire and he grimaced at this thought with almost a smile - at least then the men would enjoy a little extra warmth.

Although his feet were now warmer he still could not sleep. It was true that Barents was snoring like the old sea dog that he was, but Jacob had grown used to this and all the other sounds of grunting, groaning and farting of men sleeping in a confined space - this is not what disturbed him. What disturbed him were the sounds of the storm that roared around them and which was all too easy to imagine as the roar of the She-bear. He imagined her out there, a white ghost in the dark of the Arctic winter. He knew that their sturdy little house could barely keep her out. Her claws, each as long as a finger, could easily rake down the door and her dagger-like teeth would then pierce their skulls, soft brains oozing out.

Jacob shook his head to dispel the thought. What was happening to him? He was not prone to such hysterical fantasies. If he allowed himself to succumb to such thoughts, what would happen to the men? What would happen to Willemsz, his sergeant and to Wim, the boy he had dragged away from the battle of Ostend only to subject him to this battle against nature and the bears. Jacob knew that they looked to him for leadership in this cold Hell - and it was Hell because Hell was the place for the torture of souls except here they were being tortured by frost not fire.

Jacob knew that the men also look to Barents but Barents was sick. The spirit in the man was as strong as ever but his body was breaking down. He had suffered in his long years of adventure and now in this ultimate place of suffering it was proving too much. More and more, Jacob had the responsibility for all of them. Somehow they had to endure the long winter, somehow they had to avoid the ferocious She-bear and somehow they had to find their way across ice and sea back to their homes. Somehow he had to lead them through all of this and it almost seemed hopeless.

Jacob realised that his thoughts had almost touched on despair. He had just had two emotions, fear and despair that he had never known before, even as a soldier. He worried that his mind was slipping away from him; either that or he was losing his courage. Is that why he felt so odd? His heart was pounding, his head throbbed and he could not focus on a thought. Is that what fear felt like?

If he had indeed turned coward he would put a musket ball through his head in the morning. Determined about that, he fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about muskets, and the smoke and blood of battle, as the noxious monoxide fumes from the coal fire curled around his nostrils.

II. Winter the previous year in Amsterdam, 1595

Jacob sat quietly taking pleasure from the warm press of her body. For once she was quiet and contemplative, staring out of the carriage window with her intelligent blue eyes that could alternately spark with mischief or anger. She was younger than him but, he conceded, often wiser. He could see her profile; her long swan-like neck, high cheekbones and the set to her jaw that marked her stubbornness; a stubbornness that surely had only been given to her by God to punish him.

The carriage bumped along uneven streets and the flanks of the twin black horses steamed with sweat. It was a cold winter's night but not so cold that it could not be kept at bay with a flask of brandy or a thick travelling cloak. Whilst the breath of the coach driver was heavy with the former, Jacob wrapped a cloak around his companion and it formed a tent to capture the perfume of her. He was used to the smell of gunpowder and blood, but her scent was more powerful and more evocative.

The carriage slipped to a stop on horse-soiled cobbles and Jacob threw open the door. Briefly, horse sweat battled with her fine fragrance before the perfume was precipitated by the cold night air and horse won. He took Christijn's gloved hand and guided her from the carriage.

They were in the merchant area of Amsterdam with streets of fine houses and Councillor Ellert's was one of the finest. Despite the war with King Philip of Spain the United Provinces was doing rather well. King Philip on the other hand along with his nation, was rather broke.

Jacob rapped the brass knocker on the large door. They did not have to suffer the cold and its first few flakes of snow for long before the door was opened by a white haired older man with a back bent over from a long suffering of consumption.

Diederick! Christijn greeted him.

The well-heeled of Amsterdam knew each other’s servants well and Christijn was from such a family. Jacob had married above his station. They all knew it but as a Captain, fighting the Spanish from their borders, they could forgive him a few rough edges.

Miss Christijn! Diederick bent his crooked back even lower in greeting. Quickly, come in! I have a nice log fire going in the study. He took their cloaks and showed them to a small room with a cheerful fire burning in the grate. Please warm yourselves and I will let the Councillor know that you are here!

As soon as the door closed Jacob reached out to Christijn and pulling her to him, he kissed her as if drinking her in. Her cheeks were still deliciously chilled.

You can stop that for a start, she pushed him roughly away. What if someone should come in? Her voice scolded him but she was breathless and her eyes were bright from the fire.

Then they shall know that we have been many months apart and a man has certain desires.

Are your desires not yet satisfied? she scorned him.

I am a soldier and must treat every moment as if it might be my last.

I have noticed something of the sort!

But, My Dear, as a soldier’s wife, you must realise that I could have many….many such last moments, he said with a wicked grin.

Yes! she looked at him. I am resigned to that. But try that again and your very last moment may arrive sooner than you think.

It would be worth it, he moved towards her for a kiss.

She stepped back and slapped him then, her cheeks pink.

I’ll tell you one thing. When you go off to war for months on end, I don't lie in my bed feeling sorry for myself. I .........., she pouted. I party extravagantly with my friends.

I wouldn't have it any other way, My Dear, he laughed.

She scowled then and to change the subject said, Why on earth has he dragged us here on such a night?

To eat me-thinks and you were not dragged here, you insisted on attending.

She flashed a warning and he became serious.

But you are right. Councillor Ellert is not so free with his food. There is always business mixed with pleasure and I have no idea what that business is but he did drag me away from my men and my defence of Ostend.

You would rather be with your men in that hole of a place than with me, she pouted.

Ostend is a necessary thorn in the side of the Spanish, he had explained this many times, and I am, or was, responsible for the safety of my men. I cannot help thinking what might become of them. In any case, I think that we will soon know what our host wants of me, he lowered his voice as the door of the study opened.

Councillor Ellert with a black beard that contrasted starkly with pale skin entered and greeted them. Jacob, Christijn. What a night! he pumped Jacob's hand as if he might not let go. I think that it might even be snowing.

I have warmed up nicely, Sir, though from the heat of the fire or from his duel with Christijn, he could not readily tell.

Good! Good! Come and join us in the dining room. As the Councillor led them along a dark corridor, he turned to Jacob, I am sorry that Prince Maurice himself could not be here – you will understand that he is somewhat tied up with the Spanish. I hope that as his emissary, I will suffice. Without waiting for Jacob’s response, he turned into a large room with large oak table and a walnut dresser. The walls were hung with dark portraits whose glumness was offset by a bright rug on the floor. Leaded windows, which in the daytime would flood the room with light, were now curtained against the cold night.

At the far end of the room a handful of men were gathered around a marble fireplace that had a good fire blazing in it.

Now that we are all here, allow me to do some introductions. Gentlemen, this is Jacob van Heemskerk and his wife Christijn. Jacob has spent the last months in the heroic defence of Ostend from which we had to drag him kicking and screaming.

Not kicking and screaming, Sir. But I could not leave until the place was properly garrisoned.

Councillor Ellert laughed. Quite right! We had to pay for his presence here with six hundred men. But let us not dwell on that. Jacob, I'm sure that you will know some of these illustrious fellows, by reputation at least.

The tall handsome man with a ready smile and a firm grip was Ian Huyghen van Linschoten. A portly fellow with a little grey in the beard was Captain Ian Cornelisz Rijp. With even more grey in the beard and skin tanned to resemble leather was William Barents, a navigator, Jacob knew, of some fame.

And this bookish fellow, Councillor Ellert de Veer indicated a slight man with spectacles pinched onto his nose and an overly narrow face that gave him a rodent-like air, is my brother Gerrit.

As Jacob was introduced to the men he could not help wondering what scheme the Councillor had in mind that would throw a sailor, a navigator, a soldier and an academic into the same boat. He was sure that he would find out soon enough as the meal was about to be served and they were called to the table.

The meal itself was splendid with fine herring and rolled pork belly to follow. The accompanying wine served in pewter goblets was robust and obviously from a good cellar. The talk, as always, was about the war with Spain. It was often said that if the war ended there would be no more dinner parties in Amsterdam for want of a topic of conversation; a comment that Christijn, despite her husband’s trade, would hotly disagree with as she found talk of the war a bit of a bore.

So the Spanish are still in disarray south of the Maas where God in his wisdom has empowered Maurice of Nassau to contain them, Linschoten sliced a chunk of pork from the roll and popped it into his mouth with greasy fingers that he then licked one by one.

Captain Rijp grunted, I hear that the Spanish misfortunes are less a consequence of God's displeasure and more a lack of the King of Spain's florins.

Linschoten nodded. You are right there. The mutiny of the garrison at Zichem for their pay certainly gave us Groningen.

Yes! This war is more a war of finances than of might or arms, Councillor Ellert agreed.

It is a strange world that we live in, Jacob looked at them each in turn. To pay an enemy their back wages to regain a town. It is not a form of soldiering that I know of.

Was it not better to spend the money to take the town rather than squander men’s lives? Linschoten asked him a little flippantly.

Maybe, Jacob stared at him. But I believe in the determination of men. In blood and guts spilled in the pursuit of what is right.

Exactly! the Councillor slapped the table slopping a few drops of wine from his goblet. Spain cannot stand against the righteousness of our cause. But rightly or wrongly, Jacob, it is money that will buy us victory. He mopped up the spilt wine with his napkin. And that is why we have asked you here. If you agree to it, we need you to help guarantee our supply of cash.

They were all looking at Jacob now.

But I am a soldier, Sir. Not a banker! Jacob commented, puzzled.

Councillor Ellert smiled at that. Allow me to show you something. He stood and fetched an object that lay on the dresser to one side of the room. What do you think this is? He offered the object to Jacob.

Jacob had to scrape back his chair to accept the object for it was about five feet long, cream in colour and curved like a sabre, but an uncared-for sabre. In places it was chipped and scored. There was a blunt point at one end and the other broader end was stained with dried blood. Jacob examined it carefully, before wrapping the bloodstained end loosely in his napkin then laying the object across Christijn’s lap.

Christijn ran a slender hand along its length and fingered the deep scores with manicured nails. It's smooth like ivory. Is it an elephant's tusk?

Councillor Ellert chuckled, Not unless elephants have taken to living in Arctic seas. The tusk was given to me by Captain Rijp here who hacked it off a wondrous sea-horse creature during his last expedition.

Christijn, who did not like to appear ignorant to anyone, handed the tusk back to the Councillor with a little scowl, I have never heard of such a creature.

Not many in Amsterdam have, Mam, Captain Rijp, who had been quietly supping from his goblet, neglected his wine for a moment, but they're as thick as soot in a chimney on the ice floes north of the Arctic Circle. They are wondrous strong monsters bigger than an ox. Their skin is like that of a seal yet they have the mouths of lions but with larger teeth. When they stick their heads out of the water they look almost human and that caused me alarm on several occasions as I thought one of my men had gone overboard amongst the ice floes.

The Captain seemed to be enjoying the telling of the tale and Christijn had shrugged off her disinterest in their conversation of war and was now attentive.

At one point we saw a monstrous beast on a slab of drift ice with a youngster. We launched our yawl to approach them but the adult slipped into the water and attacked us. It struck our boat over and over with its long teeth and only left us after it had nearly capsized us and we had cried out in fear for our lives. As he talked the Captain's eyes took on a distant look as if as if he were sailing in a land of ice and snow once more. On the islands of Orange we saw more than two hundred of the beasts on the shore. Some of the men took it into their heads to fetch some teeth. They thought that the beasts would be defenceless out of the water. Well! The animals broke all of their hatchets, cutlasses and pikes before even one animal was slain and the tooth you now hold was hacked off.

It strikes me, Captain that it would be best to leave the poor creatures in peace rather than seek their displeasure, Christijn admonished him much to the Captain’s surprise. She did not like the wanton slaughter of God’s innocent animals and this attitude amused Jacob, given his job but Christijn had explained that in war men only had themselves to blame.

There was an awkward silence that was broken by Councillor Ellert. The lady has a good point, he laughed at Christijn’s directness. Though it is our understanding that the Samuters, the local savages of the region, hunt them for their teeth and oil.

This is all very interesting, Jacob was growing impatient to know why he had been summoned to Amsterdam, and I thank you for this fine meal tonight which I have enjoyed even though I think of my men who dine on rations around a small camp fire under the shadow of the Spanish cannon.

Your concern for your men does you credit, the Councillor told him.

We have had several thousand Spanish cannon balls shot at us and every one of my men is wounded, Jacob told him. It is perhaps hard to understand the camaraderie of war while sitting here around this civilised table.

The Councillor nodded, I do owe you an explanation so let me give one now. Last May, our company here with Barents as navigator set out with the permission and furtherance of the General States of the United Provinces to find a north-east passage around Tartaria to China, to reach Cathay and the Spice Islands.

Four ships, Linschoten explained. One each from Zelandt and Erickhuysen, two from Amsterdam captained by myself and Captain Rijp here.

We have built our United Provinces on the back of trade and it funds our war for independence, Councillor Ellert explained. The Spanish though, harass our ships as, needs must, our trade routes pass through their waters. If we could establish a north-east passage as an alternative route then the riches of the Spice Islands would flood our coffers and strengthen our hand against the Spanish and their abominable Army of Flanders.

And we did find such a route, Linschotens’ eyes were lit with excitement.

Barents was looking at the man and he leaned forward towards Jacob and spoke for the first time, At least we reached as far as Nova Zembla.

From the way that Barents looked at Linschoten, Jacob sensed that there was something between them – some history.

What is this Nova Zembla? Christijn asked. I have not heard of that.

Nova Zembla or New Land in the Russian tongue is a body of land lying north of even the coast of Tartaria, Captain Rijp explained.

Is this island inhabited? Christijn asked thinking of the Councillor’s mention of the Samuter natives.

Rijp shook his head, Not by men at least. It is a barren and savagely cold land. No tree, bush or even a blade of grass stands tall through all the snow and ice.

You say that it is not inhabited by man, Jacob puzzled over Rijp’s choice of phrase.

The Captain nodded. The island is not inhabited by man but by fierce snow-white bears with a taste for human flesh, he looked at Christijn as he said this, perhaps hoping to shock her. If that was the case, the man did not know Christijn. She was irritated by this and Jacob saw the familiar dangerous glint in her eye.

I am not the sort of woman who swoons so easily, Captain. And I am sure the bears are just doing what comes naturally to them; they see men as prey to be eaten.

Whilst Jacob stifled a smile, Linschoten almost chocked on a mouthful of wine.

Captain Rijp stared at her coldly, I lost men to those damn bears.

I hazard a guess that these men were lost as they angered the bears with their pointed sticks, Christijn was not one not to go too far.

The Captain gathered his wits a little and did not dare reply - he merely shrugged a little, grabbed his goblet and downed its contents.

I think that the correct terminology for the pointy sticks is pike staffs, My Dear, Jacob said laying a hand gently on her arm. He was sure that she was right – that they had been trying to get the bear’s skin when the men had been slain but he could understand Rijp’s anger. No Captain liked to lose men. He turned to the navigator, Barents, There was a passage passed this island?

Barents thought carefully before answering. The east coast of the island was locked in ice, as was the passage to the south. We sailed up and down the west coast pushing a passage to the north. There may be a passage there.

But I was on a different ship, Linschoten added quickly. We passed to the south of Nova Zembla and through the straits of Nassau by the Weygates, a smaller island just off the mainland. We reached the northern-most point of Tartaria as far as the great river Obi and we were not restricted by ice. To the east we could see clear seas.

But you went no further? Jacob asked.

No! Our task was to find the situation and return before winter to report our findings. We eventually arrived back in the city on the day of the fair.

We were much heartened by Captain Linschoten’s findings, Councillor Ellert explained. So much so that this summer we intend to send two ships laden with goods from Amsterdam through the ice passage to trade with the Spice Islands.

Jacob realised that now they were getting to the crux of the matter. And how do I fit into these plans? he asked.

Councillor Ellert turned briefly to Linshoten. Our Captain Linschoten here has done a wonderful job but alas cannot act as supercargo for our latest expedition. Therefore, we need a person of stout determination to sail with Barents as our new supercargo to mind our precious cargo.

But I am no merchant, Jacob pointed out quickly. In fact, as you are well aware, I'm no sailor either.

But, Councillor Ellert said, I know that you are a leader of men and a man of great resource who will not shirk from a fight even if that fight is not with men but with cold and ice.

And with great white bears, Christijn added helpfully.

Yes! Councillor Ellert agreed. There will be such dangers.

The ice and bears do not bother me, Jacob told him. But I am still not sure that I have a future as supercargo.

Think on this then, the Councillor pressed him. The Spanish fleet are blockaded at Dunkirk but we all know that they have not loosed their last cannon - they still have plenty of fight and when that fight comes we need to be ready. We are outnumbered and out-gunned but we must not be out-financed. It is therefore a soldier's job that we ask of you. We need you to help us raise the gold to finance the continued battle and the defeat of the Spanish Armadas that will surely come again one day.

Jacob thought on this. It was a persuasive speech but persuasive speeches were the Councillor’s staple diet. On the other-hand, if they had not had the finances the United Provinces would not have had the where-with-all to keep Ostend from Spanish hands. They may have been under siege and short of men, but they had still eaten and drunk well.

I am flattered by the offer, Jacob told the Councillor, and I can see the pressing need for the expedition. I must confess, after Captain Rijp’s account, I have some interest in seeing those frozen lands. But, he hesitated and looked at Christijn, I must consult my wife before making any decision.

Christijn held his gaze but did not respond.

You can't say fairer than that, Councillor Ellert beamed, sure that he had hooked his man. "But let me warn you Jacob, if you do agree to this venture