Saint Olaf Carved His Own Figurehead For His Flagship

Around 1016, King Olaf II (Saint Olaf, r. 1015-1028) of Norway pulled together a fleet in preparation for the upcoming sea battle of Nesjar against his rival, Jarl Sweyn Hákonsson. It was a modest armada, reportedly numbering only seven or eight ships at the beginning, of which only three could be classified as warships. Before the day of the battle, Saint Olaf would recruit more ships and crews, yet his force was said to have still remained far fewer than that of Jarl Sweyn. What Olaf’s force lacked in quantity, it made up for in quality—before barging into Norwegian politics, Olaf had spent years as a Viking, giving him ample battle experience and enough treasure to equip his most trusted men with the day’s latest armors and weaponry. As such, even though Saint Olaf’s fleet in 1016 was not the largest sea force in the north, it was still a formidable fleet that Olaf was proud to call his own.

With the fleet formed, Olaf picked out which vessel was to be his flagship, but no ship, especially a flagship, could be complete without a figurehead adorning the prow. In this regard, Saint Olaf reportedly decided to give the ship a personal touch. Instead of commissioning an artisan, Saint Olaf was said to have procured a set of woodworking tools for himself and promptly set about carving his ideal figurehead with his own hands. The historian Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), claimed that Olaf “was skilled and had a sure eye for all kinds of handicraft work,” so the final product must have been an admirable piece of art (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, 3). Interestingly, out of all the fearsome creatures he could have chosen to depict, the king decided to adorn his prow with a simple kingly head. When the figurehead was complete, Saint Olaf gave his flagship the unimaginative name of Man’s Head. The regal wooden visage apparently became the next big ship-fashion trend, and, before long, other chieftains put in orders for their own ships to be decorated with various wooden faces.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Construction of longships, painted by Nicholas Roerich  (1874–1947), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/religion 
• https://avaldsnes.info/en/informasjon/olav-den-hellige/ 
• https://weaponsandwarfare.com/2018/12/03/the-battle-of-nesjar/ 
• https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100229885  

The Athenian Catastrophe At Eretria

In 411 BCE, the once-mighty Athens was in a dire state. Two years prior, Athens had lost tens of thousands of lives (including a few of its greatest generals) and over a hundred ships in their ill-fated expedition to Sicily. Now, with Peloponnesian strength growing and Persian interest in the massive Greek civil war increasing, a group of Athenian officers launched a remarkably ill-timed coup. In 411, conspirators in military and political spheres overthrew the Athenian democracy and, through assassination and intimidation, succeeded in setting up a group of oligarchic leaders in Athens, calling themselves the Four Hundred. Yet, the oligarchs underestimated the pro-democracy passion of the Athenian military and also did not take into account the jealousy that would be felt by the lower ranking oligarchs who were unsatisfied with the power they were allotted after the coup. Ultimately, although the Four Hundred did indeed capture Athens, they were bitterly opposed by the Athenian military (which camped at Samos). At the same time, disgruntled and disillusioned oligarchs plotted against their superiors.

In was at this time, while the Athenian military was in rebellion against the oligarchic government, and while the Athenian people were terrorized by the thoughts of government informants and assassins, that a reported fleet of forty-eight Peloponnesian ships sailed past Athens. The enemy fleet continued along the shoreline of Attica, heading up to the Gulf of Euboea and eventually anchoring in Oropus, on the southern coast of the gulf. The Athenians rightly feared that the Peloponnesian fleet would cut off their access to Euboea and could inspire revolts against Athens in the region. The fear was so powerful that the rival oligarchic factions worked together to mobilize ships to drive off the Peloponnesians. Yet, since the proper Athenian military refused to acknowledge the oligarchs, the city of Athens could only manage to mobilize thirty-eight ships, manned by inadequately-trained sailors and undistinguished officers, and sent them off without much in the way of rations.

The Athenian fleet of thirty-eight ships pursued the Peloponnesians into the Gulf of Euboea. As the Peloponnesians had anchored on the southern shore, the Athenians instead sailed to the north and stopped at the Euboean city of Eretria. With no food onboard their ships and no supply-line set up, the Athenian sailors disembarked and wandered through Eretria in search of food. According to the historian and Athenian general, Thucydides (c. 460-400 BCE), the Eretrians had all of their food stockpiled inland, far away from the coast. Yet, the locals began cooking and serving this food for the Athenians in houses near the inland storehouses.

Although the Eretrian picnic for the Athenian sailors may have seemed friendly, it was all a calculated trap. After Athens suffered its catastrophe in Sicily, many cities under Athenian authority reached out to the Peloponnesians for support in potential rebellions against Athens. Eretria was evidently one such city that wanted to be free from Athenian control. Unfortunately for the Athenian sailors, the Eretrians had been in contact with the Peloponnesian fleet in Oropus and had coordinated a plan on what to do if the Athenians should drop anchor at Eretria. With everything going as planned, the Eretrians somehow signaled to the Peloponnesians, perhaps with smoke from their cooking fires, indicating to the fleet in Oropus that the Athenians were distracted and away from their ships. Seeing this signal, the Peloponnesian fleet set sail and crossed over to the harbor of Eretria before the Athenians ever realized that their foes were on the move.

When the Athenian commander, a certain Thymochares, finally saw that the Peloponnesians were just outside the harbor, he pulled his sailors away from their meals and herded them frantically back to the ships. The surprised and unprepared Athenian fleet sailed out to meet the Peloponnesians and were said to have held their ground for some time. Yet, the Athenian defenses eventually began to give way, and then shattered completely. The defeated sailors fled in at least three directions: some toward a nearby Athenian fort in Euboea, others toward Chalcis, and a third group unfortunately returned to Eretria. By this point, however, the Eretrians were no longer pretending to be friendly, and they slaughtered the unfortunate Athenians who fled back to the city.

According to Thucydides, the Athenian oligarch fleet lost at least twenty-two of their thirty-six ships in the disastrous sea battle at Eretria. In the aftermath of the battle, nearly all of the Euboean cities rebelled against Athens. Yet, the disaster did have one benefit for Athens—it was ammunition that lesser members of the oligarchy could use against the leading oligarchs. Before the end of 411 BCE, the so-called Four Hundred was overthrown and was replaced by the more inclusive Five Thousand, which could be joined by any Athenian man who had the means to purchase a full set of heavy infantry hoplite gear. The Five Thousand became more democratic through reform and eventually gained the approval of the Athenian military, reuniting the city of Athens with its armed forces.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Triremes depicted in Ship: The New Student's Reference Work, v. 4, 1914, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• History of the Peloponnesian War (Book VIII) by Thucydides, translated by Rex Warner and introduced by M. I. Finley. New York: Penguin Classics, 1972.    
• https://www.britannica.com/event/Peloponnesian-War
• https://www.ancient.eu/Peloponnesian_War/
• https://www.history.com/topics/ancient-history/peloponnesian-war
• https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/brill-s-new-pauly/thymochares-e1213040
• https://www.ancient.eu/Alcibiades/
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Alcibiades-Athenian-politician-and-general

A Coastal Food Market Helped Syracuse Win A Sea Battle Against Athens

An Athenian coalition fleet of around 130 warships, accompanied by an army of over 7,000 men, arrived in Sicily in 415 BCE. That year, the Athenians were able to talk or cajole a few Sicilian cities into joining their side (most importantly Naxos and Catana). They also won a small land battle against the army of Syracuse, Athens’ main target in the region. It was a good start for Athens, yet the defeat suffered by the Syracusan army inspired the city of Syracuse to improve the training of its warriors and to modify the ships used by the navy. As the war in Sicily escalated over the next few years, the ability for Syracuse to adapt and innovate eventually led to their victory. Interestingly, one such advantageous feat of Syracusan ingenuity was to set up a food fair on the beach of their Great Harbor.

By 413 BCE, the Athenian coalition had been camped for a year or two outside of Syracuse. It all began as a war of walls, with Athens trying to besiege Syracuse with impromptu barricades, while the Syracusans frantically set up counter-walls to thwart the plans of the Athenians. As Syracuse was not completely cut off from the outside world, the number of defenders in the city continued to increase as more allies from Sicily and the Peloponnesus slipped past the Athenian lines and entered the city. In the final leg of the siege, there were reportedly tens of thousands of warriors committed to the battle on both sides. Although the besiegers and the besieged were at a stalemate for much of the siege, the year 413 saw a dramatic shift in the balance of power.

The shift in power was largely due to Syracuse’s efforts to build a competent navy. After Syracuse gathered and manned around eighty warships, it sent out its fleet against the Athenians. In that sea battle, the Syracusans were eventually forced to retreat. Yet, the ships were able to distract the Athenians long enough for the land forces of Syracuse (led by the Spartan general, Gylippus) to rush out and capture three forts from the besiegers. The battle was considered a great success, as, not only had they captured the fortresses, but the fleet had also proved that it could hold its own against Athens, and, with more training, practice and modifications, they could even beat the Athenians at sea. Learning from the battle, the crafty shipwrights of Syracuse reinforced the sides and prows of their ships, and also developed new ramming beaks for the front of the ships. When the next confrontation between the Athenian and Syracusan fleets occurred, Syracuse had refitted at least eighty ships with these modifications.

In addition to the improved ships, the Syracusans also brought a secret weapon to the battle—a food market. Apparently, food vendors, innkeepers, and anyone else in the city who knew how to cook, were all ushered down to the beach to set up stalls on a protected stretch of beach in Syracuse’s harbor. In effect, it was ancient fast food.

With the food stalls set up on the beach, the Syracusan fleet sailed out to attack the Athenian ships in the morning. After doing some damage, the ships of Syracuse withdrew to the beach in order to have a quick mid-day meal provided by the vendors who had set up shop by the water.  According to the historian Thucydides (c. 460-400 BCE), the Athenians had thought that the Syracusan fleet would not return until the next day. Nevertheless, the sailors of Syracuse, reinvigorated by food and refreshments offered by the citizens on the beach, immediately hopped back onto their ships and embarked on a second attack against the Athenian fleet that very same day. The quick reappearance of the Syracusan fleet reportedly caught the Athenians by surprise. The sailors of Athens were able to scramble to their ships and meet the enemy in battle, but the combination of a surprise attack with Syracuse’s naval improvements ultimately led to a Syracusan victory. It was the first time that Syracuse had won a sea battle against Athens during the war. Syracuse continued to ride that momentum and by the end of 413, they would completely devastate the Athenian fleet and destroy the Athens’ expeditionary force in Sicily.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Sale of bread at a market stall, from a fresco in Pompeii, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• History of the Peloponnesian War (Book IV) by Thucydides, translated by Rex Warner and introduced by M. I. Finley. New York: Penguin Classics, 1972.  

The Dawn Sea Battle At Syme After A Surprise Storm

The Athenian expedition to Sicily was destroyed in 413 BCE, leaving Athens militarily weakened and extremely demoralized. Sparta and its Peloponnesian allies hoped to exploit Athens’ moment of vulnerability by sending out Peloponnesian fleets and armies to inspire revolts among cities in the Athenian Empire. The Peloponnesians, encouraged by Persian support, first began by promising aid to cities in or around Ionia, including Miletus, Clazomenae, Mitylene and Cnidus, as well as islands such as Chios, Lesbos and eventually Rhodes. A Spartan admiral (nauarch) named Astyochus was appointed as supreme commander of the Peloponnesian naval forces and tasked with organizing the new overseas operations. Unfortunately, he quickly proved himself to be the stereotypical slow and overcautious Spartan. Although Sparta received a line of eager ambassadors from cities ready to rebel against Athens, Admiral Astyochus seemed unwilling or unable to intercept Athenian fleets heading toward Ionia or to adequately protect the rebel cities when the Athenian forces arrived to crush the rebellions.

Eventually, Sparta appointed a council of eleven officers to advise (and, if needed, overthrow) the sluggish admiral. If the council agreed unanimously, they had the power to remove Astyochus from office. These officers set sail for Ionia independently from the rest of the Peloponnesian fleet and eventually anchored at the city of Caunus. Interestingly, it was while Astyochus was sailing with his fleet of sixty-seven ships along the coast of Anatolia to meet with this oversight counsel that the admiral won one of his few victories at sea.

After raiding Cos and then stopping by the allied city of Cnidus, Astyochus learned that a fleet of twenty Athenian ships was patrolling through the islands off the coast of southwest Anatolia, searching for the Spartans officers who had just sailed to Caunus. Astyochus, upon hearing this news, decided to sail with his fleet into a dark and cloudy night, reportedly in hopes of catching the Athenians by surprise. Yet, a skeptic might also say he wanted to avoid his enemies in the cloudy darkness. Whatever the case, Astyochus continued on his journey and sailed toward the island of Syme in the middle of the night. During this nighttime journey, the clouds condensed into a storm and scattered Astyochus’ fleet. The separated ships became lost in the darkness, and, by morning, several fragments of the Peloponnesian fleet found themselves alone in the sea.

As luck would have it, the Athenian patrol happened to also reach Syme that very morning. The Athenians spotted a small group of Peloponnesian ships and, not seeing any other hostile vessels close by, decided to immediately attack. Yet, the storm had not scattered the Peloponnesian fleet too far apart. When the sounds of sailors shouting and hulls clashing began to emanate from Syme, the other individual ships of the Peloponnesian fleet began making their way toward the noise of battle. Astyochus’ scattered sailors closed in on Syme from all directions, eventually surrounding the horrified Athenians in a tightening ring of hulls. As more and more of the sixty-seven Peloponnesian ships arrived at the site of the battle, the Athenians decided it was time to detach themselves from the fray and sail away. The majority of the Athenians did successfully flee, but six ships were lost during the battle or in the escape.

After his unplanned victory at Syme, Astyochus met up with his council of advisors at Caunus and continued on with his overcautious methods at sea. As more and more rebel cities fell or faced difficulties in the absence of effective aid, the Peloponnesian forces began to grow ever more mutinous toward their admiral. Astyochus was removed from his command before the end of 411 BCE and replaced with Mindarus.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (19th-century depiction of the Athenian Navy from the Peloponnesian War, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• History of the Peloponnesian War (Book VIII) by Thucydides, translated by Rex Warner and introduced by M. I. Finley. New York: Penguin Classics, 1972. 
• http://oxfordre.com/classics/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199381135.001.0001/acrefore-9780199381135-e-893

The Ungraceful Start To The Voyage Of Hernán Cortés

In 1518, Governor Diego Velazquez of Cuba chose Hernán Cortés to command a Spanish expedition into Mexico. In a vague series of events that even 16th-century historians hotly debated, Velazquez soon reneged on his choice of Cortés as expedition leader, but the charismatic and politically savvy Cortés used his network of powerful friends to maintain control of the expeditionary forces. Despite no longer having Velazquez’s blessing, Hernán Cortés was able to pull together a fleet of eleven ships and sign more than six-hundred men up for his expedition, of which over five-hundred were conquistadors willing to fight on land. For much of his preparations, Cortés had his headquarters in the city of Trinidad, but by the first two months of 1519, Cortés decided to gather his ships and troops in a southern Cuban port called Havana (not to be confused with the modern-day city).

For whatever reason, Cortés led his fleet out of Trinidad at night, with the leader of the expedition proudly spearheading the convoy from his large flagship. As the fleet floated through the darkness, the ships began to lose sight of each other. Nevertheless, each ship knew the way and they were able to anchor in Havana separately. Yet, when the light of morning arrived, the expedition quickly realized something was wrong. A single ship was missing from their fleet and it happened to be the most important vessel in the whole convoy—the large flagship of the expedition (and Hernán Cortés) was nowhere to be seen. For at least seven days, the expeditionary force worriedly waited in Havana without any sign of their commander. As every day passed, new claimants tried to position themselves as possible replacement captains of the expedition if Cortés remained missing.

Unbeknownst to the fleet, their embarrassed leader was not far away. Hernán Cortes, the mighty leader of the expedition that would eventually topple the Aztec Empire, had run his flagship aground on a shallow bar of sand near one of the islands off the southern coast of Cuba. No matter what Cortés did, he could not sail or row or push his ship free. Therefore, he eventually started filling the flagship’s smaller rowboats with his cargo and ferried the supplies to the nearby island. After rounds of paddling back and forth from the ship to the island, Cortés finally reduced the weight of the flagship enough for it to float free of the obstacle. Although his ship was unstuck, his troubles were not over—all of his cargo was still on the island. Therefore, Cortés anchored the ship in deeper water and hopped into his rowboat to begin the frustrating task of ferrying all of his cargo back onto his flagship. Finally, with his ship free and his cargo restored, the much-delayed Hernán Cortés resumed his voyage to Havana and destiny.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Shipwreck painted by Ivan Aivazovsky (1817–1900), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Conquest of New Spain by Bernal Díaz, translated by J. M. Cohen. New York: Penguin Books, 1963. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hernan-Cortes 
• https://css.history.com/topics/exploration/hernan-cortes 
• http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/cortes_hernan.shtml 
• https://www.biography.com/people/hern%C3%A1n-cort%C3%A9s-9258320  

Æthelred The Unready Lost A Large Portion Of His Navy Due To His Feuding Vassals

Æthelred the Unready (r. 978-1016) ruled England during one of its darkest ages. As early as 980, he was faced with an influx of Viking activity the likes of which had not been seen since the days of Alfred the Great (r. 871-899). Yet, unlike Alfred, who was eventually able to adapt his forces to effectively combat the Scandinavian threat to his kingdom, Æthelred the Unready seemed hopelessly incapable of utilizing his resources in a way that could defeat his enemies. As portrayed in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Æthelred’s style of defense was evidently to let his regional ealdormen defend their own domains against the Vikings, and if the ealdormen failed, Æthelred would pay the Vikings money in hopes that they would leave. The king apparently mobilized his army on very few occasions, and when he did personally go on the march, it was often a punitive mission against his own people. Æthelred did, however, raise fleets against the Viking threat, yet something always seemed to go wrong when the English ships were gathered together.

According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, it was as late as 992 when Æthelred the Unready decided to make a concerted effort to mobilize his navy against the Vikings. That fiasco ended with the admiral in charge of the English fleet defecting to the Vikings (read about this in more detail HERE). After that incident, Æthelred the Unready apparently reverted to his previous strategy of paying money to the Vikings, especially when too many of his ealdormen began to die in battle. Yet, in 1007, after numerous ealdormen had been slain in Viking raids and after four payments of tribute had been made to the invaders, Æthelred the Unready finally announced a kingdom-wide edict commanding that new ships and armor be built across England.

By 1009, enough ships had been constructed to make some of the Englishmen feel hopeful of their future. Yet, as had happened the last time Æthelred raised his fleet against the Vikings, something bizarre occurred to thwart the unlucky king’s plans. Unfortunately for Æthelred, two of his powerful vassals decided to start quarreling in 1009. The two people in question were Ealdorman Brihtric and a certain powerful lord of Sussex called Wulfnoth Cild. Æthelred failed to reconcile the two noblemen, and, even worse, the king openly gave his support to Brihtric. Infuriated, Wutlfnoth Cild commandeered twenty English ships that were docked in his domain and used them to raid southern England.

When news of the raids spread, Ealdorman Brihtric quickly offered to hunt down his rogue rival and the king agreed to the plan.  In addition to his vocal support, King Æthelred the Unready also put Brihtric in command of eighty newly-built ships. Now at the helm of a large armada, Brihtric sailed off to capture or kill his enemy. Yet, the battle between the foes never occurred—in a tragic twist of fate, Brihtric’s fleet was ravaged by a massive tempest that left all eighty of his ships damaged or sunk. When Wulfnoth heard of his rival’s distress, he reportedly sailed to the shipwrecks and set fire to all of the vessels that happened to still be afloat.

According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the naval disaster between Brihtric and Wulfnoth was a breaking point in the reign of Æthelred the Unready. With the destruction of Brihtric’s eighty ships and the other twenty ships of Wulfnoth still on the loose, Æthelred the Unready apparently abandoned his shipbuilding project and England fell into a state of overwhelming depression. The chronicler in charge of recording the events of 1009 wrote, “When this was thus known to the other ships where the king was, how the others had fared, it was as if all counsel was at an end, and the king, and the ealdormen, and the high ‘witan’ went home, and thus lightly left the ships” (ASC, 1009).

The English ships lost that year were sorely missed. Before 1009 had ended, the general regions of Kent, Hampshire, Berkshire, Sussex and Essex faced Viking activity, while the more specific locations of Sandwich, Canterbury, Chiltern, Oxford, Staines and London were also mentioned as having been targeted by raiders. With such a combination of bad luck and ineffective defense, it is unsurprising that the Danes overran England by 1013 and forced Æthelred the Unready to flee to Normandy.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Bayeux Tapestry. Scene 39, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Ethelred-the-Unready 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Sweyn-I  

Did Ancient Greeks And Romans Explore Iceland?

Iceland did not become a permanent place of settlement until the 9th century. The first inhabitants that built a long-term community on Iceland predominantly came from Norway, and later descendants of the original settlers were convinced that their ancestors’ exodus from the old homeland was a form of protest against the growing authority of King Harald Finehair (ruled approximately 860-940). It is clear that the Norsemen were the first settlers to turn Iceland into a long-term home. Yet, the question of if they were the first people to discover the island is another story. In fact, it is possible that Iceland may have been located by a Greek explorer as early as the 4th century BCE and that Romans had this information at their disposal during the time of the Roman occupation of Britain.

The debate revolves around Pytheas, a 4th-century BCE citizen of the Greek settlement at Massilia (Marseilles) in ancient France, then known as Gaul. During the last decades of the 4th century, Pytheas set sail from Massilia and sneaked his way through the Carthaginian strait of Gibraltar to enter the Atlantic Ocean and began thoroughly exploring the lands far to the north of the Mediterranean Sea. During his travels, Pytheas kept detailed notes on the geography he encountered and the people that he met. When he returned from his expedition, he published a text that was reportedly titled, On the Ocean.  Unfortunately, his original version of the book has been lost. Nevertheless, numerous Greek and Roman historians attested to the existence of the Pytheas and his book. Through these later scholars, pieces of the lost text were preserved through quotation, critique and summary. By piecing together the commentary of historians such as Pliny the Elder, Strabo, Polybius, Diodorus Siculus, Timaeus and Eratosthenes, we know most of the regions where Pytheas was said to have traveled.

According to the fragments and summaries of Pytheas’ journey, he began by leaving the Mediterranean Sea through the Strait of Gibraltar. He then traveled up the Iberian Peninsula and continued along the French coast, eventually rounding Brittany. Pytheas then crossed the English Channel and traveled along the west coast of England, Wales and Scotland. On that stretch of the journey, he also reportedly explored the smaller islands of Britain, such as the Hebrides and Orkney.

It is around this time that Pytheas may have discovered Iceland. From somewhere on the north tip of Britain, the Greek explorer set sail and traveled toward Arctic waters for six days. His exact trajectory is not known, but after the six days, Pytheas sighted land near a “congealed” or “sluggish” sea, terms that possibly suggest icy water or the North Atlantic Current. Based on this evidence, scholars believe that Pytheas either reached Iceland or Norway at the end of his six-day trek from Britain. Whatever he found, Pytheas labeled it “Thule” and eventually departed the mysterious landmass for the British Isles. If he had not already seen Norway by this point, then he possibly saw Norwegian land on the next phase of his journey. Pytheas allegedly sailed into the Baltic through the North Sea and perhaps explored the coast of what is now Poland. At this point, however, Pytheas decided to start his return-trip home to Massilia and did not venture farther into the sea.

When the Romans began their conquest of Britannia under Emperor Claudius in the year 43, their maps were still influenced by Pytheas’ discoveries. Leading up to and during the time that Julius Agricola was governor of Britannia (r. 77-84), Roman influence had spread over England and Wales, as well as into significant portions of Scotland. In the year 83, Agricola sent a Roman fleet to explore the north of Britain. In their travels, the Roman sailors explored Orkney (which they called the Orcades) and found another island that they believed was Pytheas’ Thule. Yet, most scholars do not believe that the Roman expedition of 83 ever reached Iceland or Norway. Instead, it is thought that the Romans found Shetland and misidentified it as Thule.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (detail of a cup interior showing a frieze of five boats in contest. Attic black-figured cup, ca. 520 BC. From Cerveteri. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Agricola and Germania by Tacitus and translated by Harold Mattingly and revised by J. B. Rives. New York: Penguin Classics, 2009.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Pytheas 
• https://www.ancient.eu/article/1078/on-the-ocean-the-famous-voyage-of-pytheas/ 
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/people/history/ancient-history-greece-biographies/pytheas 
• https://www.britannica.com/place/Iceland/Government-and-society#ref10088  

Canoes Vs. Conquistadors—Spanish Explorers Almost Lost Their Ship To A Fleet Of Stealthy Canoes

On April 8, 1518, Juan de Grijalva sailed from Cuba with four ships on an expedition to the Aztec shores of the Gulf of Mexico. His goals were exploration, gold, and, if possible, colonial settlement. The conquistadors fought one sizable battle at the native town of Champoton, a feisty settlement that had given Spanish adventurers trouble in the past. Yet, after that battle, the conquistadors faced virtually no violent resistance until the end of their expedition. Bernal Díaz del Castillo, a Spaniard who was in the Grijalva expedition and later served with Hernán Cortés, wrote that the peaceful reception they received from the other local towns was due to the influence of the Aztec emperor, Montezuma II. The Aztec ruler allegedly encouraged his people to cooperate and trade with the Spaniards. The native population obeyed the emperor and the Spaniards successfully bartered for gold in several locations on their journey, usually exchanging worthless beads and cut glass for the native jewelry. Most impressively, the Spaniards spent six whole days near the Rio Jampa exchanging their baubles for gold.

As months passed by, the expedition began to run out of supplies. They sent one of the three ships, commanded by Pedro de Alvarado, back to Cuba in order to ask for supplies and reinforcements. With him also went any wounded Spaniards, as well as all the gold that had so far been accumulated. While the lone ship returned to Cuba, the remaining three vessels continued exploring the Mexican coast.

The peace and gold made the explorers complacent. Even though the sailors often anchored their ships near foreign cities, the lack of aggression made them comfortable enough to eventually begin neglecting lookout duty and inter-ship communication. While the expedition was still in regions firmly under Montezuma’s control, the Spaniards could get away with such behavior. Nevertheless, the explorers would soon be shocked out of their stupor.

Juan de Grijalva and his three remaining ships eventually reached the Pánuco River and anchored their ships where it met the gulf. As had become a regrettable habit, the sailors did not set up any effective lookouts and were generally inattentive in their security procedures. With these protective measures missing, the Spaniards were woefully unprepared for a threat that was silently rowing closer.

Unbeknownst to the Spaniards, they had entered hostile waters. The land around the mouth of the Pánuco River was on the periphery, or completely outside, of Montezuma’s sphere of influence. Consequently, the locals of the region had not received, or did not care to obey, the Aztec policy of appeasing the Spaniards. Instead, the locals living near the mouth of the Rio Pánuco gathered their canoes into a fleet and cast off to challenge the explorers.

Unbelievably, the stealthy fleet of natives successfully paddled to the smallest Spanish ship and began attaching ropes to the vessel. The absence of lookouts and a general lack of awareness among the Spaniards allowed the warriors in their canoes to work without any harassment from the oblivious sailors. Finally, one of the canoes paddled over to the ship’s anchor and chopped the line with an axe.

By now, the chop of the axe and the sounds of numerous oars slapping water had finally alerted the Spaniards. According to Bernal Díaz del Castillo, an eyewitness of the event, it was an incredibly odd sight—he estimated that he saw twenty large canoes, packed full of warriors. This imaginative native fleet was apparently trying to use their ropes and canoes to haul away the ship. While some of the warriors paddled the canoes, the remainder of the force used their bows to rain arrows down on the crew of the roped ship. Yet, unfortunately for the fleet of canoes, the sailors in the ship had by now grabbed their crossbows and muskets to return fire.

The commotion caught the attention of the other expedition ships. Eager to help their comrades, the crews from the unmolested vessels grabbed their crossbows and muskets before hopping into rowboats and set off paddling toward the fleet of canoes. With crossbow bolts and musket balls flying at the local force from both the roped ship and the oncoming rowboats, the warriors in the canoes began to take heavy losses. Now that the prospect of stealing the ship was impossible, the natives dropped their ropes and frantically paddled for safety. Unfortunately, Bernal Díaz claimed that he and his comrades were able to injure more than a third of the warriors before the canoes fell out of range. After the odd incident, the expedition gave the Rio Pánuco a nickname—the Rio de Canoas, or the River of Canoes.

The fight against the canoe fleet prompted Juan de Grijalva to began retracing his path back toward Cuba. On the return trip, the explorers faced no more attacks from the towns they encountered. Instead, the journey home was filled with trading and at least one case of theft. By the time Juan de Grijalva returned home, his expedition had obtained a treasure of gold worth an estimated 20,000 16th-century silver pesos.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Indian Canoe, painted by Albert Bierstadt  (1830–1902), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Conquest of New Spain by Bernal Díaz, translated by J. M. Cohen. New York: Penguin Books, 1963.