by Graeme Lay
‘What is our deduced reckoning to New Albion, sir?’ asked Clerke.
‘Two months, at least. Probably longer. Anything else?’
There were no more questions. This chapter of the voyage was about to close.
James, King and Gore watched the women bid their special taios farewell on the mid-deck. Most were weeping, including the men. Then the women descended the hull steps and climbed into the waiting canoes, where they began to wail, throw their arms about and tear at their foreheads with sharks’ teeth. Several, they were aware, were with child.
The crew lined the starboard rail, staring, waving, their expressions forlorn. ‘The men are loath to leave, sir,’ said King.
‘Aye,’ said James. ‘Their women are good, mainly.’ But he also wondered, To how many of those women have we conveyed the venereals?
‘Who can blame the men for not wanting to leave?’ said Gore wistfully, staring at the piteous scene below. ‘This place has been heaven for them, these past months.’
King said impatiently, ‘It is not heaven.’ He waved one hand towards the island. ‘Think of their civil wars. If they are not fighting one another, they are planning to do so. They sacrifice innocent people in the name of their pagan gods. And the priestly class murder their own babies.’ He shook his head. ‘There is too much bloodshed in these islands for them to be another Elysium.’
James nodded. ‘Much of what you say is true. To which could be added, incurable thieving.’
Gore smiled ruefully. ‘Yet most of our men would stay here if they could.’
James grunted. ‘But it’s my belief that if they did stay, they would soon become embroiled in the natives’ conflicts. And the male Otaheitians would be envious of their popularity with their women. Their pleasure would be short-lived, I am certain of it.’
He looked down at Resolution’s master, who was overseeing the reeving of the mainmast blocks. The sky had cleared after a recent downpour, and other crew members were hanging the sails from the yards to dry. Some were working among the rigging, carrying out repairs under Bligh’s direction.
James’s voice boomed out over the decks: ‘Bligh, prepare the ship for sailing. We will weigh the day after tomorrow, at first light!’
WEDNESDAY, 10 DECEMBER 1777
Before I left the Society Isles I enquired of the inhabitants if there were any islands in a north, or north-westerly direction from them, but I did not find that they knew of any.
PART THREE
Twenty-one
29 DECEMBER 1777
Dearest Beth,
We are again in the Northern Hemisphere.
Following a northerly course, we crossed the line in the night, between 22 and 23 December. Then we began to observe birds that seldom stray far from land—boobies, terns, men-of-war and tropic birds. On 24 December land was sighted and on Christmas Day we reached an uncharted island.
It is a low island, located at just 1° 25' North, whose land encloses a vast lagoon. As we coasted its western littoral we observed that the land, although rich in bird life, appeared barren and uninhabited. It also seemed a likely source of turtles, and since many shoal fish could be seen in the shallows I decided that we should spend some time here, gathering these food sources. However, to my disappointment the place lacks fresh water, and surprisingly coconut palms do not grow prolifically.
There is no passage to the lagoon wide enough to admit the sloops, and the breakers on the reef are formidable, so we are standing off the northern coast and using the launches to gain admission to the interior through a narrow channel. This was diligently sounded by Bligh. The island itself I estimate to be from 15 to 20 leagues in circumference, making it one of the largest low islands I have seen. I have claimed it for King George and its name, Christmas Island, chose itself.
Given the auspiciousness of the date, we celebrated the day on board with the usual toasts and recollections of Yuletides past, dining on turtle meat and fish which the men had seined. King, Burney and the others recounted their memories of snowy Christmases in England and, in Gore’s case, Virginia, while the temperature outside the cabin was measured at 105 degrees. On the decks the crew played fiddles and bagpipes, wrestled and boxed, and relished the fact that I allowed them a double ration of grog for the occasion. As it was a Saturday, my liquor prohibition was not broken. Naturally my own thoughts were mainly of you and our sons, who I am sure would have been with you on 25 December.
Regrettably, Clerke has been confined to his cabin these past few days, as his cough has worsened. He is prescribed laudanum by Anderson, who is himself still unwell. I can imagine that you are wondering about the state of my own health. To my great relief, I feel healthier than I did. This I attribute to a diet of turtle meat, fresh fish and coconut juice, all of which I believe are nutritious and healthful. As on my previous voyages, not a man aboard either ship has scurvy. The prescribed anti-scorbutics, taken daily, are undoubtedly the reason for this proud record.
Earlier this week two of the seamen who went ashore on the island lost their direction, could not find the coast and were listed as missing. How they could get lost on an island of this size I cannot comprehend. Having no water and in dire need of fluid, they killed a turtle and drank its blood, enabling them to survive until a search party found them and returned them, suitably shamefaced, to the ship.
I busy myself with the usual duties, maintaining my log and charting this island, along with some special activities. For instance, Anderson and I took some sprouting yams and coconuts from the ship’s botanical store and planted them on a part of the island where none grew. There is also to be an eclipse of the sun in four days, which Bayly and I intend to observe from an islet in the passage to the lagoon. Bayly has already set up his observatory tent there.
It thrills me that we are now north of the line, thus within the North Pacific Ocean and bound for the west coast of North America. To achieve this goal, after we set sail we will proceed on a north-east course.
A New Year, 1778, is now imminent. In the one and a half years since we left Plymouth we have only visited lands previously seen and surveyed, and in so doing have lost much time. I must accept the blame for this. Although it was our duty to repatriate Omai, and the need for provisioning is constant, the extended time spent in already discovered islands was in hindsight unwise. We must make the Bering Strait by the height of the coming northern summer if we are to discover the North-east Passage.
More than ever, I am determined to find a way through to the Atlantic and thence to England. This achievement will mark the culmination of my career and ensure that my name will rank with that of Drake and Raleigh. Greatness lies over the horizon, of that I am certain. Once this noble objective has been achieved, my days of sailing the globe will be over.
Happy New Year!
Your loving husband,
James
18 JANUARY 1778
‘Land! Land ho! Off the starboard bow!’ The delighted cry came from midshipman James Ward, on watch atop Resolution’s mainmast platform.
Assisted by the trade wind, the sloops had been sailing in tandem on their north-easterly course. It had been a long fortnight since they had seen land, and this uneventfulness had brought with it increasing tedium. The hundreds of turtles they had taken aboard from Christmas Island had fed them well, but they were now low on water and firewood.
The crew clambered to the starboard rail. Most had heard Ward’s call, but as yet they could see only a misty horizon.
From 60 feet above the deck, Ward called again. ‘More land! In the north-west!
After another hour’s sailing, a trio of high islands was visible from the decks: two large, the other much smaller. The earlier rain had passed, the sky was clear, and the islands’ features became ever more distinct.
Spyglass to his eye, James asked King, standing alongside him on the mainmast platform, ‘What are the co-ordinates of the largest island?’
King lowered his sextant’s telescope. �
�Latitude is twenty-three degrees North. And after checking the chronometer, I estimate the longitude as one hundred and fifty-nine degrees West.’
James nodded. The sight of high islands emerging unexpectedly from the dark-blue, wind-scuffed ocean exhilarated him. Could this be a significant discovery?
He called down to the sailing master, standing alongside the helmsmen. ‘Steady as she goes, Bligh. We’ll make for the middle island.’ Turning, he saw that Discovery was abeam of them by half a league.
The middle island comprised a massive cone, with slopes rising to a peak King reckoned to be over 5000 feet. ‘An extinct volcano, I would say,’ he told James, studying the enormous cone through his scope. ‘Akin to Otaheite.’
‘Aye,’ said James, ‘but much larger. More in the nature of Tahuata in the Marquesas.’ And he thought delightedly, Yes, this is a real discovery.
Every man aboard was thinking: An island this size must be inhabited. And wondering: If so, by whom? They hadn’t set eyes on any other humans since they left Bora Bora five weeks ago.
Still holding their course, they were now bearing away from the third island, approximately three leagues to starboard. Its features were obscured by mist, nevertheless it was discernible as a second substantial landmass. Its peaks were also several thousand feet high.
To the south-east, just visible now on the hazy horizon, were the faint shapes of more islands. Gore lowered his ’scope and turned to James, his expression joyful. ‘Not just a trio of islands, Captain, but an archipelago.’
‘Indeed.’ James was unable to suppress his delight. An archipelago to claim for England!
The following day the two sloops reached the south coast of the middle island, then bore west against a stiff wind and stood off from a lee shore. The island now lay just a league and a half away. Its mountain slopes were thickly forested, rising to summits covered in rain clouds. In places the slopes were disfigured by slips, exposing soil the colour of ox blood. An enormous valley cut deep into the south-facing slope, and they could see a river gushing from the place where the valley met the coastal plain. The enticing aromas of wet earth, vegetation and wood smoke drifted across the water to the ships. The island appeared to have no fringing reef. Instead, powerful swells streamed landward, then reared and dumped down on its shore. Landing would be challenging in these conditions. ‘We’ll anchor here,’ James called over to Bligh. ‘Signal Discovery.’
As the anchor chains rattled and Resolution was brought up, King pointed towards the shore: ‘Look, sir!’
Dozens of outrigger canoes were heading towards the ships, their paddlers appearing to be seated on the sea. The canoes came alongside. In them were young men, their skins coffee-coloured, their muscular bodies covered in sweat and spray. Their black hair was tied back in ponytails and they wore loincloths of bark cloth. There were dozens of stones the size of lemons in the bottoms of their canoes.
The Resolutions crowded the railings and beckoned the paddlers aboard, but the strangers remained seated, gripping the shafts of their paddles and staring in open-mouthed bewilderment at the ship, obviously struggling to comprehend its enormity, and the nature of the outlandish beings who were peering down on them.
The amazement was mutual. Those on the ship stared down at the brawny, broad-faced young men. ‘They resemble the New Zealanders,’ King said, ‘yet we are thousands of leagues from there.’
James nodded. ‘Yes, the resemblance is strong.’ Leaning over the rail, he shouted down to the canoeists. ‘Tena kotou, tena kotou, tena kotou katoa! Nau mai, haere mai!’
The brown faces stared up at him blankly. Several men frowned.
‘Fetch Gibson,’ James told Harvey, and the officer scurried away to look for him.
Gibson came down from the foredeck, hatless and barefoot but wearing his marine’s scarlet jacket and breeches. James said, ‘Tell them we wish to be their friends, and we need to exchange gifts for food, water and wood.’
Leaning over the larboard rail, Gibson shouted down to the men. ‘Ia ora na! Ia ora na! Maeva, maeva!’ The mouths of the men in the canoes gaped. Gibson continued. ‘Ua tipae mai nei matou i to outou na fenua. E mea fano mai matou te fenua ra o Peretane, e Otaheite, Moorea, Huahine, e Raiatea.’
The islanders’ faces broke into mixed expressions of consternation and amusement at Gibson’s strange accent. But they were nodding, too. They understood!
Gibson went on: ‘Te haere mai nei matou na roto it te hau. Te haere mai nei matou e ani i te pape, te maa e te raau. Ua tia anei ia autou mai i ta matou nei mau aniraa?’
A tall man sitting astride the thwart of the largest canoe was nodding. Raising one paddle high, he made a lengthy, spirited reply, accompanied by many gesticulations and pointings shoreward.
Gibson turned to James and the officers. ‘He says that we are welcome to their island, which is called Kow-ay-ee, and they have plenty of what we need. They have water, pigs, chickens, fish, breadfruit, taro, potatoes, coconuts, bananas and sugar cane.’
Just what James had hoped for. ‘Tell them we are pleased with their offer, and that we will soon send our boats ashore to begin trading.’ He had another thought. ‘Also ask them: have they ever seen people like us before?’
Gibson did so, pointing to himself and the other crew members, then around at the ship. The canoeists shook their heads and continued to stare up at the ship in wonderment, as if at an apparition.
Chuckling, Gibson told the others: ‘No, they have never seen such a thing. They think our masts are trees and the sails are giant manta rays.’
Some trade goods were brought up from below—squares of linen, nails and beads—and tossed down into the canoes. The occupants seized them eagerly, then fondled them, the nails especially, as if they were sacred objects. They began to toss the stones in their canoes overboard, in what seemed like a gesture of peace. Then they paddled back to the island.
Next morning the canoes returned. This time, instead of rocks, they carried small cooked pigs, fish and plantains, which the paddlers held up as they came alongside. Now, when James beckoned them to come aboard, they mounted the steps eagerly, then wandered about the decks. They were tall, lean and sinewy, darker-skinned than the Society Islanders. Their noses were broad and flattish, their eyes the colour of chocolate. All wore garlands of woven flowers; a few had elaborate headdresses topped with coloured feathers; most had necklaces of boars’ tusks or sharks’ teeth. Two wore feathered cloaks around their shoulders.
Obviously unable to comprehend what they were seeing, they moved slowly about the decks, touching everything they saw, gently, as if it might vanish beneath their touch. Belaying pins, rigging, grappling hooks, sails, the gratings and launches—all were gazed at and stroked in wonder. One strapping man picked up a lead line which was hanging over the starboard rail and held it up to the others jubilantly, as if it were now his.
‘No,’ James declared, ‘that is not yours.’ When he took the line back from him the man blinked in surprise, but did not object.
‘I fear we will have the old problem with these people too,’ James muttered to Gore. ‘Thievery.’
Some of the visitors wandered up to the foredeck, where the goats, sheep and pigs were penned. A few feet from the pens they froze. Sniffing the shit and piss stench from the pens, drawing audible breaths of shock, they stared at the creatures, especially the sheep. Then they turned away, shook their heads with incredulity and returned to the mid-deck.
The gift-giving continued. When Gore and the others gave the islanders handfuls of beads, they put them in their mouths then spat them out. When they were given mirrors they glanced at their reflections, then cast them aside with indifference. But the nails were accepted with alacrity. They pressed the points to their flesh then gave little cries of pleasure, seeming to know the metal and its properties. Some of the natives touched the crew’s faces and bare arms, as if to determine whether or not they were really human. They put their hands inside the sailors’ vests, to see if the
skin of their bodies was the same as that of their faces and hands. Those so examined laughed with embarrassment. To be stroked by native women was one thing, but by native men?
An older man with a long, lined face, wearing an elaborate headdress, took it off and handed it to James. Nodding his appreciation, James presented the man with a hatchet. The man’s face broke into a delighted grin and he hefted the tool in his hand, clearly realising its worth.
Before the islanders left the ship, James asked Gibson to explain to them that some of the crew would go ashore the next day to obtain the supplies he had earlier asked for. At this news they smiled and nodded, ‘Oia, oia, oia.’ Then, armed with their gifts, they climbed down into their canoes and paddled back to shore.
These first contacts prompted a post-supper discussion that evening in the Great Cabin between James and his officers, as well as Anderson and Webber. Clerke had been brought across from Discovery to attend the meeting and be apprised of James’s next intentions.
Although the stern windows in the cabin were wide open, the air was close with heat and the smoke from Gore’s and Webber’s pipes. As Resolution rocked gently in the swell and his servant poured coffee for them all, James spread the latest published chart of the Pacific out on the table. It included the discoveries from his second voyage, such as Savage Island, the Hervey Isles and New Caledonia. ‘It appears certain to me, gentlemen,’ he averred, passing one hand over the Pacific in a sweeping gesture, ‘that the natives of this island are of the same race as those of New Zealand and the Society Isles.’
Craning forward, Anderson put a finger on one of the other island groups. ‘And of Tahuata in the Marquesas Islands. The men we saw today could have come from there.’
James nodded. ‘And Easter Island. They are obviously all of the same nation.’
Williamson, leaning back in his chair, gave a derisive laugh. ‘That cannot be so. If it were true, then these primitives have sailed their canoes over thousands of leagues of open ocean.’