David C. Judkins
Associate Professor of English
University of Houston
Houston, TX 77204-3012
[This essay is in CEA Critic Spring 2002]
"courageous fire to thaw the ice of frozen north discoveries"
Teaching Travel Literature of the Early Modern Period
Despite the fact that travel and exploration are major defining elements of the Renaissance, one would hardly be aware that life existed outside London in the typical course of Early Modern English literature. The Norton anthology has only seventeen pages on four of the travel classics of the time. Not surprisingly, each is concerned with areas eventually incorporated into the United States further enforcing the misinformed view that significant European exploration was only centered on central North America. Oxford’s The Literature of Renaissance England has eight pages devoted to "The New World;" and the well worn but still in print Rollins and Baker, The Renaissance of England prints fifteen pages.1 It is a pity anthology compilers have had such a narrow view of university student interests because travel literature, not necessarily dealing with the future United States, provides valuable insight into the way Europeans and particularly the English responded to people of radically different cultures. These responses, not all uniform and therefore not predictable, are key in understanding perceptual reaction through the long period of globalization and homogenization through which mankind continues to proceed. Suggesting that travel literature is only interesting if it centers on your geographic locale is self-defeating at best and narrow minded at worse. More important it overlooks the conflicting Renaissance impulses of nationalism and cosmopolitanism, and focusing narrowly on one’s own history denies the student the opportunity to examine self in relation to otherness.
The question which informs my travel sections is, why did the English see other cultures as they saw them? Why, that is to say, do we perceive differences in terms that reflect not so much what we are seeing but the background from which we see this new culture?2
To explore this question in some detail, I look at three different travel accounts which, I contend, provide special insights on observation and reporting. They also allow readers to gain some experience with popular literature of the Early Modern Period. Two of the accounts are by merchants and one is by a youthful sailor. They cover roughly the second half of the Sixteenth Century. In 1558 Anthony Jenkinson was sent by the Muscovy Company to Russia via the White Sea to initiate trading relations with Russia and to journey south and east of Moscow to locate routes and trading centers with India and the Far East. Ten years later Miles Philips sailed with John Hawkins whose ships were attacked in the port of Vera Cruz. Philips was one of the sailors subsequently put ashore in northern Mexico when Hawkins realized he had not enough food for all the survivors clinging to his disabled ship. Finally, Ralph Fitch was a private merchant who set out in 1583 with two friends for India. His route took him to Venice and thence to Aleppo before reaching Goa on the western coast of southern India from which he traveled further east looking for trading opportunities.
It is important to distinguish that all three men are travelers not explorers. What they see and describe is new to them, but not new to European readers; however, all three are more descriptive than is frequently the case for early travelers. Although they speak from a Euro centric and more specifically and Anglo centric point of view, they seem less ideologically judgmental than most of their contemporaries. Their strongest criticisms are not directed toward the indigenous peoples they encounter, but to other Europeans they meet. Fitch is imprisoned by the Portuguese, Jenkinson is disgusted and frustrated by the Russians, and Miles Philips is imprisoned and inslaved by the Spanish in Mexico. Nevertheless, these men are surprisingly tolerant of those who treat them poorly, and they always befriend the indigenous people on some level.
Since they are not concerned with the early history of the United States, none of these accounts is well known. University undergraduate students will almost certainly have never heard of these men much less have read their eye witness personal narratives. Travel was arduous, indeed, dangerous in the second half of the sixteenth century—definitely not recreation for the elderly as is often the case today. These men were relatively young, at least when they began their journeys. They were risk takers with not a lot to lose and hopefully much to gain. University students are quick to recognize that these are not literary men.
The compiler and editor of these accounts is Richard Hakluyt, who in the latter part of the sixteenth century collected as many letters, logs, diaries, and stories as he could find to chronicle English expansion throughout the world. He published these materials in several editions the last being Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffics, and Discoveries of the English Nation, 3 Vols, London, 1598-1600. There are numerous twentieth century editions of Hakluyt most of which are abridged and somewhat modernized.3 In my classes I use the Penguin paperback edition edited and abridged, not always judiciously, by Jack Beeching and all quotations will come from his text. Hakluyt’s stated aim for collecting these accounts was to authenticate and legitimize English claims to newly located territories, but he accomplished much more. He preserved useful geographical information. He gave travel literature a more factual basis and turned it away from the "Book of Marvels and Monsters" approach which characterized the genre through the ancient and medieval period. He assembled an interesting collection of non-fiction prose which provides a foundation for the later development of fictional prose. Finally, he preserved an invaluable record of early English response to foreign cultures.5
Jenkinson is a fascinating man who while still in his teens was sent to the Levant where he learned Turkish and demonstrated a talent for trade. In 1553 the English began looking for a northeast trade route to the Far East. Sir Hugh Willoughby and Richard Chancellor sailed around the top of Norway. Willoughby and his crew were lost in a storm and eventually died during the ensuing winter in Lapland, an incident Donne may have had in mind in the quotation above. (Donne 11) Chancellor and his men made it into the White Sea and then traveled overland to Moscow. On Chancellor’s return to England the Muscovy Company was founded to promote trade with Russia and beyond, and Anthony Jenkinson led an early trade mission to Moscow in 1558. The English were looking for an outlet for their surplus wool and hoped to trade for timber and furs, but the real prizes were silks and spices. Jenkinson was therefore instructed to travel south and east of Moscow hoping to find significant trading cities in central Asia. His success was at best limited, but his travel descriptions are instructive. For instance, when he visits the Russian city of Astrakhan at the mouth of the Volga where it empties into the Caspian Sea, he was disappointed and surely shocked by the conditions he found. The sight was one of unimaginable horror, yet Jenkinson describes the destitute city with remarkable calmness. He had hoped Astrakhan would be rich with treasures from the East, instead he found "the island most destitute and barren of wood and pasture, and the ground will bear no corn: the air is there most infected, by reason (as I suppose) of much fish, and especially sturgeon, by which only the inhabitants live.... They hang their fish in their streets and houses to dry and their provision, which causeth such abundance of flies to increase there, as the like was never seen in any land, to their great plague" (Beeching 79-80). From the general environment, he turns his attention to the people living in Astrakhan. "There was a great famine and plague among the people, and especially among the Tartars who came thither in great numbers to render themselves to the Russians, to seek succour at their hands, their country being destroyed: they were but ill entertained or relieved, for there died a great number of them for hunger, which lay all the island through in heaps dead, and like to beasts unburied, very pitiful to behold..." (Beeching 79). Jenkinson had traveled thousands of miles by ship, horse and cart, and by riverboat. He had been months in transit and his own personal safety was frequently threatened. But this is what he finds, "heaps of dead bodies, very pitiful to behold." As for trade, the real goal of his mission, "it is not worth the making mention." The enormous disappointment that surely accompanied this discovery is never explored, rather Jenkinson immediately begins searching for a boat to sail across the Caspian so that he might make his way east to Bokhara where he hoped to have better luck trading his goods. This is not the British stiff upper lip, it is rather a question of expression. Jenkinson allows the reader to judge for him or herself. We can smell the stench of Astrakhan, the spoiled fish and rotting flesh; we can visualize this city of the dead; we feel the jagged poverty of a "beggarly" market "not worth the making mention." Jenkinson need not search for an artful rendering of his description, the plainly stated facts which in their plainness constitute for most readers an astonishing understatement is far more effective than the heaping of details or the clever juxtaposition of analogies.
Jenkinson headed west crossing the Caspian and then struck out for Bokhara where he found conditions slightly better. There was stronger civil control by a "barbarous king" who, on hearing Jenkinson and his party had been attacked and robbed, immediately dispatched a company of soldiers to capture the robbers and return the good. Nevertheless, the king himself suddenly left on a military expedition still owing the English trader for items he had bought. "Yet was I very ill satisfied, and forced to rebate part, and to take wares as payment for the rest contrary to my expectation: but of a better payment I could not have, and glad I was so to be paid and dispatched" (Beeching 89). This ambiguous conclusion is typical of Jenkinson’s ambiguous response to Russia and central Asia. On the one hand he travels in danger and fear for his life, on the other hand he more than pays for his trip, and when the Muscovy Company is ready to outfit another trading mission, Jenkinson sails again to Russia with a load of surplus kerseys he hopes to sell in Moscow. He, in fact, made several more trips to Moscow and points south, and he usually followed the same route: over the top of Norway and down into the White Sea in the summer , then proceeded to Moscow in the fall. His trading success was mixed in part because the Czar at this time was Ivan, the Terrible. Jenkinson seems to have gotten along with Ivan better than most foreigners, but he was often left cooling his heels for months at a time waiting for an audience with the Czar and carefully worked out trade agreements could be whimsically rescinded and then days later reinstated. Jenkinson is very circumspect and diplomatic in his remarks on Ivan, but his other descriptions are a delight. When he visits the king of Hircania he finds him setting in "a very rich pavilion, wrought with silk and gold, placed very pleasantly upon a hill side, of sixteen fathom long, and six fathom broad, having before him a goodly fountain of fair water: whereof he and his nobility did drink, being a prince of mean stature and of a fierce countenance, richly appareled with garments of silk, and cloth of gold, embroidered with pearls and stones: upon his head was a tolipane with a sharp end standing upwards half a yard long of rich cloth of gold, wrapped about with a piece of Indian silk of twenty yards long, wrought with fold, and on a left side of his tolipane stood a plume of feathers, set in a trunk of gold richly enameled, and set with precious stones..." (Beeching 94-5).
When it comes to religious differences, Jenkinson reports that he stands up for his faith. "Then he (the Sophy) reasoned with me much of religion, demanding whether I were an unbeliever, or a Muslim.... Unto whom I answered, that I was neither an unbeliever nor Mahometan, but a Christian. What is that, said he unto the King of the Georgians’ son, who being a Christian was fled unto the said Sophy, and he answered that a Christian was he that believeth in Jesus Christ, affirming him to be the Son of God, and the greatest Prophet. Doest thou believe so, said the Sophy unto me? Yea that I do, said I: Oh thou unbeliever, said he, we have no need to have friendship with the unbelievers, and so willed me to depart" (Beeching 99-100). Jenkinson’s response may have been to satisfy his English readers rather than accurately report his conversation with the Sophy. Jenkinson was known for his ability to communicate and negotiate successfully with a wide variety of people from culturally diverse backgrounds. His direct and forceful answer to the Sophy’s inquiry is out of character for a man of his diplomatic and sales skills. (Koslow 247-268)8 There is a tantalizing paradox of danger and luxury in Jenkinson’s account of his travels in northern Persia. He finds the local rulers generous and rich in personal goods, but unpredictable and transient in their life styles. The religious issue complicates matters further. Jenkinson does not want to be accused back home of compromising principles for personal profit, but what would be the point of isolated martyrdom? Jenkinson is a salesman, a pragmatist, or as pragmatic as one is likely to be in the sixteenth century. You can sell nothing when your goods have been confiscated and you are left to rot in a filthy prison. Jenkinson goes to some lengths to describe his often kind treatment at the hands of local sultans and kings. We note that he does not engage them in theological arguments, and missionary initiatives are not part of his agenda. He is, of course, careful to thank God for preserving his life, but otherwise religious issues are kept to the background so far as possible when trading in Asia.
That is certainly not the case for Miles Philips when he is struggling to survive in Mexico. Philips sailed as a young page with John Hawkins on a slaving expedition in 1568. He was likely uneducated and therefore functionally illiterate. He may have dictated his story to Hakluyt, but he was clearly an intelligent and resourceful young man. Having picked up five hundred slaves near Cape Verde the ships headed for the West Indies, where Hawkins traded for most of the slaves with Spanish colonists even though they were supposedly prohibited from trading with foreigners. During a bad storm, perhaps a hurricane, Hawkins sought shelter at St Juan de Ulloa (Vera Curz). But when the storm passed a few days later Hawkins ships were attacked by the Spanish fleet when it entered the port (Williamson 151-155). Out numbered and out gunned, the English were lucky to escape when two ships finally made their way out of the harbor and turned north up the coast of Mexico. Hawkins soon realized he must reduce the number of men on board his badly damaged vessel if he were to have any chance returning to England, thus he set one hundred fourteen men ashore to fend for themselves promising that he would return in a year to retrieve them.
It is at this point that Philips’story of survival really begins. First there is an Indian attack, but Phillips says this was a mistake. The Indians thought the English were Spanish, and when they discovered their mistake, they actually assisted the survivors. In contrast, the treatment by the Spanish, whom they finally had to turn to for help, was appalling. Despite the fact that the English were willing to profess themselves Catholic, the Spanish insisted they were "Lutheran Heretics." "Then they [the inquisitors] would demand of us what opinions we had been taught to hold contrary to the same whiles we were in England: to which for the safety of our lives we were constrained to say, that we never did believe, nor had been taught otherwise.... Yet all this would not serve; for still from time to time we were called upon to confess, and about the space of three months before they proceeded to severe judgment, we were all racked, and some enforced to utter that against themselves, which afterwards cost them their lives" (Beeching 146-47). Philips is one of the more fortunate of those imprisoned, probably because of his youth he was not held accountable for his religious views as were the adults. He was finally sentenced to five years of involuntary servitude in a monastery. His duties were to oversee Indian slaves being forced to build a church. His account is full of unintended irony, but his most severe criticism is saved for the Inquisition, which he says was not only unpopular among the Spanish, but even among many of the clergy.
While building the church, Philips learned the language of the Indians and became familiar with them, "whom I found to be a courteous and loving kind of people, ingenious, and of great understanding, and they hate and abhor the Spaniards with all their hearts, they have used such horrible cruelties against them, and do still keep them in such subjections and servitude, that they and the Negroes also do daily lay in wait to practice their deliverance out of that thralldom" (Beeching 150). These people helped him as he attempted to escape from his Inquisitors. Some assisted him when he needed to file off his shackles. Others guided him through the forests of Central America until he reached Honduras and was taken on a ship sailing to Havana. Philips regards these men as helping another human in distress. Without their kindness he would never have survived to return home. Clearly the author feels nearer the natives and slaves than his fellow Europeans. The fact that he earlier participated in the enslavement of those with whom he now sympathizes never comes up. Nor can it be said that his story is underpinned by moral enlightment, but Philips does point the way toward moral reflection in narrative prose that will flower in the Eighteenth Century.
This is also something of an adventure story full of fighting, fleeing, suspenseful moments (the prisoners are all marched out to the gallows for what they think will be a mass hanging). The hero learns Spanish so that he might pass himself off as a Spaniard when necessary. He learns the art of silk weaving so that he may disguise himself as a local tradesman and artisan. His tale is a model of courage and ingenuity and instills a sense of hope when most in such circumstances would despair. At the same time, Philips story is something of an outline for future popular adventure fiction. It has all the plot elements, but little of the florid details one encounters with later novelists. Philips tends to understate and only hints at his personal thoughts, feelings or reactions, and other characters in his story are never developed. We do not know what they look like much less what might motivate their actions. Students will recognize that the story must be read carefully and special attention given to syntax to understand what is not being said as well as what is being said.
Ralph Fitch’s story is written as something of a report to his employers and a guide for future traders. By the time Fitch set sail with two companions to investigate the well-known trade route across the Mediterranean to Aleppo, thence across Syria to Basara and down the Persian Gulf to the Indian Ocean and western India in 1582-83, some English merchants were giving up on northeast and northwest passages to the Far East. They were tired of ships either not returning at all or returning with disappointing results and so they opted for a known route albeit in the hands of the Italians and Portuguese. John Newbery had just returned from Basara and reported that there was a good possibility of developing a small but lucrative trade on this route; thus Fitch and his companions were financed by a small syndicate which had been granted a trading monopoly via this route by the Queen.
All went well for the Englishmen until they reached Ormuz, near the mouth of the Persian Gulf, where they were arrested as spies and sent to Goa, where the Portuguese continued their imprisonment. Eventually the Englishmen convinced their captors that they were of the Catholic faith and were then bailed out by an English Jesuit, Father Stevens. Upon their release all seemed well and Fitch set up a small shop in Goa as a merchant, but then word came that the Portuguese planned to ship the Englishmen to Lisbon on the next available boat, and they fled to the northeast. Fitch and his companions traveled all the way across India to the Bay of Bengal but then turned back northwest to Agra. Shortly afterwards, the men broke up going their separate ways and Fitch headed down the Jumna River to the Ganges finally reaching the upper Bay of Bengal. He comments on the standard subjects: child marriage, polygamy, beggars, poverty, and idolatry. His tone is that of the reporter, somewhat objective, yet he cannot resist some judgments. For instance, he sees what he calls "a dissembling prophet which sat upon a horse in the market place and made as though he slept, and many of the people came and touched his feet with their hands, and then kissed their hands. They took him for a great man, but sure he was a lazy lubber. I left him there sleeping. The people of these countries be given to such prating and dissembling hypocrites" (Beeching 260). He finds the countryside "fruitful and populous," the Ganges water "sweet and pleasant, and the country adjoining very fruitful" (Beeching 259) Most of this general information was fairly well known and Fitch may be relating it simply to confirm that he was there.
More interesting is his description of Pegu, an ancient and important city located in southern Myanmar which Fitch reached three years after he left England. Fitch’s description is certainly the fullest and most complete that had been supplied in the English speaking world of this ancient capital of Buddist culture. He describes a comfortable, well walled city with shaded walks. "The streets are the fairest that ever I saw, as straight as a line from one gate to the other and so broad that ten or twelve men may ride affront through them.... The houses be made of wood, and covered with tiles" (Beeching 261-62) But it is the elephants that really get Fitch’s attention. He describes the white elephants which the king kept; he explains how elephants were captured and tamed for domestic use; and finally he speaks of the elephants use in war. Both Fitch and Jenkinson describe the wealth and strength of kings whom they meet. Here Fitch says that the King of Pegu has five thousand elephants, largely for waging war, but they are also clearly a mark of his wealth.
In reporting on more everyday life Fitch is quickly drawn to the bizarre when he brings up the custom of putting round stones or brass or silver balls under the foreskin of a male’s penis. "They cut the skin and so put them in, one into one side and another into the other side: which they do when they be 25 or 30 years old.... for they say the women do desire them. They were invented because they should not abuse the male sex. For in time past all those countries were so given to that villainy, that they were very scarce of people" (Beeching 265).
Fitch’s description of the magnificence of Pegu is the most outstanding contribution of his general account. No other Englishman gives so thorough a description of this well developed city. Fitch plainly sees great trading prospects with Pegu which houses hundreds of merchants and sees goods brought in from all over the Far East. Finally, no European country had a significant presence in the city. Pegu was something of a free trade zone and at the time seemed relatively safe, a secure place for the individual trader to work.
From Pegu Fitch goes south along the coast of the Malaysian Peninsula to Malacca quickly remarking on the formidable fort which the Portuguese have built at the mouth of the harbor. From this harbor the Portuguese sent out ships to trade for spices throughout the islands of Southeast Asia. Fitch suggests that small companies not even consider trying to get a piece of this very lucrative trade. For his own part, Fitch must have spoken Portuguese fluently by this time and was able to disguise himself, at least for a time, in these situations. From Malacca Fitch returns to Pegu where he resides for six months, but adds nothing to his remarks on this city, which, despite all of its grandeur, wealth, and beauty, would fall in 1599 and be destroyed by its traditional enemy from the north.
Fitch travels so extensively that it is tempting to think that his story may be more than a little exaggerated. Did he really go to Pegu then drop down to Malacca and on his way back stop at Pegu again? It should also be noted that his description of Pegu, contains elements of Caesar Fredericke’s account. Fredericke was a Venetian merchant who visited the same area in 1563. Fitch does add important interesting material particularly regarding the Buddist monks he observed. Hakluyt prints both accounts with no comment on the relationship of one to the other (Hakluyt, Voyages 198-269).
It is remarkable that this resourceful individual was able to travel from London to Malacca, using, as we might say today, public transportation. He overcame sickness, hostility, and general discouragement. He must have been terribly depressed at times, and tempted to take offers to divert his attention and goals to other purposes. Unfortunately we read little of the inner turmoil or the travails of travel in the late Sixteenth Century. He does briefly remark on a particularly bad passage from Bengal to Ceylon on his homeward journey, "in which passage we endured great extremity for lack of fresh water: for the weather was extremely hot, and we were many merchants and passengers, and we had very many calms, and hot weather" (Beeching 267). At the conclusion of his journey he arrives safely in London, gives God a nod for his assistance, and records the length of time he was away- eight years. According to William Foster his return to London must have come as a surprise to those closest to him since in 1590 his will had been proved, "the testator being described in the Probate Act Book as having died beyond the seas"(7). For most of the eight years he was gone Fitch was unable to communicate with friends and relatives, so he was eventually assumed dead. His reappearance must have caused something of a stir, but there is no record of this event and we can only surmise the shock of a presumed dead’s resurfacing. Or perhaps in our day of cell phones, email, caller ID, and the other innumerable communication devices, we really cannot surmise such an event.
The reading and studying of travel literature of the Early Modern Period allows students have some sense of what travel was like at a time when communication was a matter of sending messages or letters via strangers, who may or may not be successful in their delivery. A traveler was truly cut off from family, friends and homeland when he ventured beyond the borders of his native country. This isolation contributes to his sense of foreignness, indeed otherness. This literature also provides a marked contrast to the artful writing of standard authors, and it exposes students to the popular writing of the time which comes to us with an authentic and unpretentious voice. I am not suggesting that these figures take the place of Spenser or Milton, nor do I contend that they are undiscovered masterpieces. All of these works are occasionally disjointed and sometimes incoherent; yet in a guarded way we are able to witness the reactions of these early travelers to the strangeness in which they immerse themselves, sometimes for years at a time. That reaction by small groups or individuals is generally more sympathetic than we might expect—than we have been led to believe. These three examples of early travelers have developed linguistic talents, to communicate with their new friends, which leads to a greater degree of understanding and therefore respect. Jenkinson is aided by local sophys, kings, and tribal rulers in western Asia, Philips is assisted by Indian slaves, and Fitch is clearly taken with the people of Pegu who live gracious and productive lives. These three men precede or in one case witness the European exploitation of undeveloped areas of the world, but they do not knowingly participate in that exploitation. They are all traveling with the hope of profit but not conquest, and their experiences and observations may help students grapple with the ambiguities of nationalism and cosmopolitanism, of self and otherness.
Endnotes
1 Abrams, and others 889-906; Hollander and Kermode 42-50; Rollins and Baker 885-895. . Only Rollins and Baker give a good sense of Hakluyt’s broader purpose by printing his prefaces and dedications which indicate that Hakluyt is not preparing an early history of the United States but a record of English travel and exploration throughout the world.
2 My approach to travel literature is strongly influenced by Kristiva, see particularly 105-126, and Rubiés see 1-34.
3 See for example Richard David, ed. Hakluyt’s Voyages (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1981). Irwin R. Baker, ed., Hakluyt’ Voyages: The Principal Navigations etc. (New York: Viking Press, 1965). John Hampden, ed., Principal Navigations. Selections (London: Folio Society, 1970). For complete editions see Richard Hakluyt. Voyages 8 vols. (London: Dent, 1962). Richard Hakluyt, The Principal navigations, voyages, traffiques and discoveries of the English nation.... 12 vols. (Glasgow: J. MacLehose and sons, 1903-05).
5 For full biographies of Hakluyt see Parks and Quinn.
6 Koslow reports that because of Jenkinson’s adroit handling of Ivan, the Czar became something of an Anglophile and for several years sought an English wife.
List of Works Cited
Abrams, M.H., Stephen Greenblatt, and others, eds. The Norton Anthology of English Literature, 7th ed., vol. 1 New York: Norton, 2000.
Beeching, Jack ed. Richard Hakluyt Voyages and Discoveries. London: Penguin Books, 1972.
Donne, John. The Satires, Epigrams and Verse Letters. Ed. W. Milgate. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1967.
Foster, William, Sir. Early Travels in India, 1583-1619. London: Oxford U.P., 1921.
Hakluyt, Richard. Voyages 8 vols. London: Dent, 1962.
Hollander, John and Frank Kermode, eds. The Literature of Renaissance England New York: Oxford, 1973.
Koslow, Jules. Ivan the Terrible. London: W.H. Allen, 1961.
Julia Kristeva. Strangers to Ourselves, trans Leon S. Roudiez . New York: Columbia U.P., 1991.
Parks, George Bruner. Richard Hakluyt and the English Voyages. New York: American Geographical Society, 1928.
Quinn, D. B. ed. The Hakluyt Handbook London: Hakluyt Society Publications, 2nd ser., no. 144, 1974.
Rollins, Hyder and Herschel Baker, eds. The Renaissance in England (1954; Boston: Heath; Prospect Heights, N.J., 1992)
Joan-Pau Rubiés. Travel and Ethnology in the Renaissance: South India through European Eyes, 1250-1625. Cambridge: Cambridge U.P., 2000.
Williamson, James A. Hawkins of Plymouth. London: Adam & Charles Black, 1949.