The sermon fell on deaf ears. Elizabeth's courtiers were not about to abandon their new-found pleasures for this was an age that demanded excess. They needed to be richly clad for the pageants, masques and tournaments they attended and their frivolous needs were reflected in the trite ballads, odes and sonnets of the day. They loved curios and oddities, the unusual and the exotic, and it was to satisfy this vogue that had settled the merchants of London on their latest venture.
Queen Elizabeth herself was keen for the expedition to set sail at the earliest opportunity, especially when she learned that the Portuguese and Dutch had unexpectedly raised the price of pepper from three to eight shillings a pound. Pepper had become a basic commodity and with the price now beyond the means of all but the wealthy few it was imperative that a well-organised expedition be sent to seek it at its source. A handful of attempts had been made in the wake of James Lancaster's voyage but all had ended in disaster. The most recent, which had sailed under the captainship of Benjamin Wood, had disappeared without trace. It was, recorded Samuel Purchas, 'a double disaster; first in the miserable perishing of the fleet, and next in the losse of the historie and relation of that tragedie'. Rumours slowly filtered back to London reporting that the crew had been ravaged by disease and, one by one, perished at sea. 'Some broken plankes, as after a shipwracke, have yet beene encountered from the West Indies, which give us some notice of this East Indian disadventure.' Just four survivors managed to swim to a small island on the horizon and three of these were promptly despatched by a cut-throat Spaniard leaving just one man alive. Even he was not fated to live for long; fleeing the island aboard a passing ship, he soon succumbed to a dose of poison.
On 16 October 1599, less than a month after their first meeting, the London merchants received the Queen's official blessing. She instructed them to obtain from the Privy Council a warrant allowing them to proceed with the voyage, as well as a permit enabling them to carry overseas the five thousand pounds of bullion which the merchants needed for their proposed trade. The merchants were overjoyed at the Queen's enthusiasm, but the Privy Council, though outwardly enthusiastic, was determined to stop this voyage in its tracks. Delicate negotiations were just beginning with Spain and if this expedition were to set sail with the Queen's blessing — and against the wishes of the Pope — then Philip of Spain would be well within his rights to withdraw from the discussions. The merchants were warned in no uncertain terms that any voyage would have to be accommodated to the state of public affairs. Suddenly the expedition had been blocked at the highest level.
The merchants were furious to see their enterprise undermined by a handful of haughty lords in Elizabeth's court. They begged the Queen to intervene but although they had her full sympathy there was little she could do. The merchants now stiffened their resolve. Blithely ignoring the lords they 'did enter into the preparation of a voyage the next yeare following', poring over every map, chart and book of travels about the region they intended to visit. All this newfound information was then compiled into a document under the title:'Certayne reasons why the English Merchants may trade into the East Indies, especially to such rich kingdoms and dominions as are not subjecte to the Kinge of Spayne and Portugal; together with the true limits of the Portugals conquest and jurisdiction in these oriental parts.'
Their reasoning as to why the voyage should go ahead was nothing less than a stoutly argued refutation of the Treaty of Tordesillas. 'Let the Spaniards,' they wrote, 'shewe any juste and lawful reasons ... why they should barre her Majestie and all other Christian princes and states, of the use of the vaste, wyde and infinitely open ocean sea, and of access to the territories and dominions of so many free princes, kings and potentates in the East. 'These dominions, they argued, should be free to all merchants, 'for [the Spaniards] have noe more soveriegn comaund or authoritie, than wee, or any Christians whatsoever'.
The Queen read the document with great interest, then handed it to the learned Fulke Greville, Treasurer of the Navy, who concurred with every word and proceeded to strengthen its central argument by adding references to the spice trade from books in his impressive private library, 'espetially owt of the voyages of John Huighen [Lindschoten],' the man who had made possible the first Dutch voyage. Greville also provided a list of all the eastern kings already trading with Spain, leaving the inescapable conclusion that any potentates yet to sign a trading alliance were free to be exploited by whichever country reached them first.
When the London merchants held another meeting, on 23 September 1600, exactly a year had passed since their first gathering, yet they were no closer to setting sail for the East Indies. Increasingly impatient, they now resolved to 'goe forwards with the voiage' whether or not they had permission from the lords. Just two days after the meeting they bought their first ship, the Susan, for the princely sum of £1,600 and, on the following day, purchased the Hector and Ascension as well.
The obsequious courtiers, who had done so much to throw obstacles in the path of the merchants, now realised they had been wrong-footed. Instead of continuing their policy of refusing consent for the voyage they decided, instead, to wrest control from the merchants by placing one of their own in overall command. There was an obvious candidate: for months one of the chief players at court, the gentleman adventurer Sir Edward Michelborne, had been petitioning for an exclusive patent for trade to the Indies. Now, the Lord High Treasurer recommended Michelborne to the London merchants, politely instructing them to give him the position of 'principal commander'.
The merchants, mindful of Edward Fenton's disastrous expedition to St Helena, refused to be dictated to, even by so grand a luminary as the Lord Treasurer. They declined to take up his offer, explaining with considerable relish that they had resolved 'not to employ any gentleman in any place of charge', and added that they preferred to 'sorte their business with men of their own qualitye, lest the suspicion of the employment of gentlemen being taken hold of by the generalitie, do drive a great number of the Adventurers to withdraw their contributions'.
Michelborne was livid at this snub and refused to pay the subscription for which he had signed up. His name, in consequence, was removed from the Company's roll and, fuming and humiliated, he dropped from the scene to nurse his grievances. It was to be four years before he made his first independent foray into the eastern trade; when he did so, it had a devastating effect.
The merchants now settled on equipping a voyage to set sail in the spring of 1601 but the ships they had already bought were tiny, even by the standards of the time. Realising they would need a larger flagship if they were to have any hope of seeing off any war-mongering Portuguese carracks, they began to scout around for a more impressive vessel. The Earl of Cumberland had just the ship they needed: called the Malice Scourge, of 600 tons, she was offered for sale at the high price of £4,000. A deal was struck, she was bought for £3,700, and renamed the Red Dragon. She was a sturdily built and seaworthy vessel and although her construction was better placed for the chill waters of the north than for the tropics, she made an impressive sight on the Thames, her towering stern and carved poop betraying the large and comfortable living quarters for the captain and his lieutenants. Her low waist caused her to sit deep in the water, and she had a jutting prow adorned with an elaborate figurehead. She subsequently had a glorious career in the East Indies and was not sunk by the Dutch until a 'cruel, bloody fight' in October 1619.
After numerous arguments and deliberations the merchants settled on a mixed cargo of lead, iron (both wrought and unwrought), Devonshire cotton kerseys, broadcloth and Norwich woollens, as well as several boxes of trinkets and playthings suitable for presenting to the various potentates who would be encountered on the voyage. These included girdles, a case of pistols, ostrich plumes, looking glasses, spoons, glass toys, spectacles, and ewers wrought from silver.
The provisions were a subject of even more careful thought with every last pea and carrot calculated in individual portions. Food was not supplied
for the time when the ships were in port: it would be up to the captains to barter from the natives enough to feed their crew. Even so, the detail that went into provisioning the ships is proof enough that the merchants were determined this voyage should succeed.
And so the list continues. There were peas and beans to go with the pork, three months' supply of salted fish, oatmeal, wheat,'olde holland cheese', butter, oil, vinegar, honey, sugar, and rice. The crew were even allowed a couple of pounds of nutmeg, cloves and pepper to help disguise the taste of rank meat, as well as fourteen hogshead of aqua vitae.
The merchants, though busy preparing the victualling of the ships, had not overlooked the appointment of the various captains and commanders. After electing Sir Thomas Smythe, a man of ripe experience, as the first governor of the Company, they next turned to the day-today running of the expedition itself. It came as no surprise that James Lancaster was named as 'General' or Admiral of the Fleet, nor that John Davis - only recently returned from the Dutch voyage - was appointed as pilot-major in charge of navigation. John Middleton, William Brund and John Heyward, all of whom had previously covered the route in various ships, were given command of the other three vessels.
There were also the on-board merchants, known as factors, to be chosen. These men were professional traders upon whose shoulders the financial success of the voyage would hinge. Selected with considerable care, they numbered 36 and would, all being well, settle in the East Indies and establish trading bases for future voyages. Those with foreign languages were particularly favoured, especially those who could speak Portuguese, Spanish or Arabic, the languages of trade in many of the larger ports in the East. Along with the crew the total tally came to 480 men, most of whom were experienced mariners.
Soon the wharves of London were alive with the clatter of ships being loaded with ropes, anchors, pennants, kegs of powder, and muskets. The cargo was loaded, the holds were filled and finally the heavy kegs of ale and cider were lashed to the decks.
There was one final business to attend to before the ships could set sail: the Queen's signature was still needed on the charter of what had now become known as the Governor and Company of Merchants trading to the East Indies. In this document, drawn up by the merchants themselves, they were to be granted a total monopoly of trade over 'traffic and merchandise to the East Indies, the countries and ports of Asia and Africa, and to and from all the islands, ports, towns, and places of Asia, Africa, and America, or any of them beyond the Cape of Bona Esperanza [Good Hope] and the Straits of Magellan'.
On 31 December 1600, it was at last signed by the Queen. Valid for fifteen years, it conferred massive powers upon a small group of men — 218 in total. The merchant adventurers were given the exclusive right to trade with the East Indies — a vague geographical term which included the entirety of South-East Asia - without any interference from the Crown. They could take as much bullion out of the country as was necessary, found trading posts wherever they wished, and govern as they saw fit. In return for these sweeping powers they were to furnish a fleet of six ships annually.
The few regulations imposed upon this first trading expedition were drawn up by the merchants rather than the Crown. Lancaster was warned to be on his guard against any sailors who attempted to dabble in private trade and told that 'due inquisition shall be made into all and every ship, by search of all chests, boxes, packs, packets, writing, and other means whereby discovery may be made of this breach of present ordenance'. Unfortunately, this stricture proved impossible to enforce. Individual sailors were paid next to nothing for the long and hazardous voyage and many set sail with the full intention of smuggling home a sackful or two of nutmeg.
The Queen coined new money specifically for the Company. Minted at the Tower of London and bearing her arms on one side and a portcullis on the other, it soon became known as portcullis money. She also granted the merchants a new flag which, with its blue field and background of thirteen red and white stripes, prefigured the one adopted by the Thirteen Colonies of America some 175 years later.
On a cold February day in 1601, Lancaster's five ships slipped slowly down the Thames. They made a colourful sight as they passed the wharves at Woolwich. Bedecked with streamers, pennants and colourful bunting, they flew from their main mast the blood-red cross of St George. The banks of the river were lined with merchants, relatives and well-wishers, a crowd and a send-off not repeated until 1610 when Nathaniel Courthope would leave London on the greatest sailing ship ever built by the East India Company.
Scarcely had Lancaster's vessels reached the Thames Estuary than the wind dropped and for almost two months the sails hung loose. It was not until Easter that his fleet finally reached Dartmouth. Delayed again at Torbay, Lancaster sent instructions to each of the ships listing ports and harbours where they should rendezvous in the event of becoming separated. And then, with the wind once more filling their sails, the ships set off down the English Channel and had an uneventful passage all the way to Gran Canaria.
Here, the wind again died and for more than a month the fleet floated idly at sea, inching slowly towards the equator. Just two degrees short of the line Lancaster had a stroke of good fortune. A lone Portuguese ship, accidentally separated from her accompanying carracks, was spied on the horizon. The five English vessels circled her then closed for the kill. She was boarded, her crew disarmed and a team of men sent down into the hold. She proved to be a very rich prize: she was laden with 146 butts of wine and 176 jars of oil and her captured cargo was shared out among the English ships according to the number of men on board. And then, without further ado, they set sail once again.
As with Lancaster's first voyage men began to fall sick as soon as they crossed into the southern hemisphere and it was not long before 'the weakness of men was so great that in some of the ships the merchants took their turn at the helm and went into the top to take in the topsails.' But while men grew weaker on the smaller vessels, the diarist on board Lancaster's Red Dragon could not help noticing that her crew were completely immune to the illness. 'And the reason why the general's men stood in better health than the men of other ships was this; he [Lancaster] brought to sea with him certain bottles of the juice of lemons, which he gave to each one, as long as it would last, three spoonfuls every morning, fasting; not suffering them to eat anything after it till noon ... by this means the general cured many of his men and preserved the rest.' How Lancaster stumbled upon the cure for scurvy remains a mystery; it may be that he noticed the spectacular recovery that men made as soon as they were able to add fresh fruit and vegetables to their diet of salted food. On his first voyage the on-board chronicler Henry May had observed that one particularly ill crew member had made a full recovery after eating the oranges and lemons found on St Helena. Tragically Lancaster's cure was soon forgotten and more than 170 years were to pass before Captain Cook rediscovered the beneficial effects of citrus fruit in combating scurvy.
Although scurvy and sickness were a constant concern, life on board had its lighter moments. Journals and diaries make frequent mention of the play-acting, singing and clowning around that enlivened the tedium of the voyage. Music was extremely popular and on one vessel 'a virginal was brought for two to play upon at once.' This proved a great success for no sooner had the music commenced than 'the jacks skip up and down in such a manner as they will.' A later expedition even boasted a cornet player who used to regularly play for his colleagues. So accomplished was he at the instrument, and so wide was his repertoire, that on arriving in India he found himself blowing his brass for the Great Moghul himself.
The merry-making was helped along by the huge quantities of alcohol consumed by the crew. Although attempts were made to regulate the drinking, it was universally ignored until men began to drop dead of liver disorders caused by the 'inordinate drinking of a wine called tastie [toddy] distilled from the palmetto tree'.
After merry-making their way across the southern Atlantic, Lancaster's expedition finally slipped into
South Africa's Table Bay on 9 September 1601, where the commander knew he could barter for fresh meat and provisions. As had happened on his first voyage the crew viewed the natives as wild barbarians who were laughably easy to exploit. Neither side was able to communicate with each other for, 'their speech is wholly uttered through the throat, and they cluck with their tongues in such sort that, in seven weeks which we remained here in this place, the sharpest wit among us could not learn one word of their language.'
Instead, the English sailors 'spake to them in the cattle's language'. When they wanted to buy oxen they would say 'moo'. When they wanted sheep, they would say 'baa'. The animals cost next to nothing: the natives did not demand silver or gold but seemed content with a couple of old iron hoops. After twelve days, the ship's company had bought more than a thousand sheep and several dozen oxen.
When his ships finally set sail Lancaster must have been pleased that his time in Table Bay had passed without incident. Aware that this was an essential revictualling point for ships heading east he did everything possible to ensure that negotiations with the natives progressed smoothly. Such a policy was in stark contrast to that of Cornells Houtman who had treated the natives of southern Africa with brutality and paid for it with the loss of thirteen crew.