James Cook’s Lost World

by Graeme Lay

  They passed through villages whose houses were thickly thatched with long grass. Chickens roamed about and scratched in the undergrowth; ginger pigs rooted in the dirt. Cocks, unseen, shrieked from the safety of the bush. Piles of coconut husks and discarded palm fronds smouldered on the outskirts.

  When the inhabitants came out of the houses and saw James and his party, they too fell on their faces. Again he urged them to stand, and after they did so, to their delight he pressed nails and beads upon them.

  The women stared at the crew and made enticing gestures. Grinning lasciviously, they pointed between their legs and moved their loins back and forth. Observing his men’s hungry expressions, James called out, ‘Ignore them! No fornication!’ The men fell in behind him, like farm dogs brought to heel.

  Except for Discovery’s surgeon’s mate, young Welshman David Samwell. He continued to stare ardently at a slender, semi-naked young woman who was pointing eagerly at her groin, then at his. Samwell moved towards her, his arms outstretched. Anderson admonished him, calling out, ‘Leave her alone!’ Samwell stopped then turned aside, his expression sulky. Anderson handed the woman a nail, which she received with a dazzling smile, saying ‘Ah, maholo, mahalo.’

  As in the Society Isles, each village had its place of worship, or marae, although Burney ascertained from Kaneoneo that their name for such a sacred site was ‘heiau’. This consisted of a square enclosed by a low stone wall built of tight-fitting volcanic stones. Within the square was a wooden tower decorated with elaborately carved boards and long ribbons of white bark cloth, patterned with swirling symbols. While the others wandered about one such heiau, Webber took out his pad and quickly sketched the scene.

  As the party moved up the valley the vegetation grew more luxuriant. Coconut palms, breadfruit and giant trees draped with parasitic creepers grew in abundance. The clearings they came to were dappled with the sunlight that poured through the canopy.

  The bird life was prolific. Tiny hummingbirds hovered among the foliage, swifts swooped about, kingfishers perched on branches beside the river and sparrow-like flycatchers flitted everywhere. ‘Their name?’ Burney enquired, pointing. ‘Ele-paio,’ Kaneoneo replied. Burney wrote the new word down in his notebook.

  The further inland they went, the stickier the heat became. Sweat streamed from their bodies, and after another half-hour’s walking, James decided they must return to the shore.

  On the way back, Burney gave James his interpretation of the day’s events. ‘I think, Captain, that they really do believe we are gods. And that you in particular are a reincarnation of Lono.’ He fanned his face with his hat.

  ‘If that is so,’ James replied, swiping at a trailing creeper with his stick, ‘why do the young women make suggestive gestures towards us? It would be unseemly, surely, for deities to have carnal congress with ordinary mortals.’

  Burney considered this. ‘Perhaps their erotic overtures are a kind of test.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They may be seeking proof of our divinity. If we respond by copulating with them, that would prove we are ordinary flesh and blood, subject to the same carnal urges as they have.’

  ‘Ah, I follow your theory, Burney.’ James smiled sardonically. ‘Samwell was certainly keen to provide them with such evidence. But if your hypothesis is correct, then it is all the more important for us to uphold my ban on copulation. As well as preserving the fiction that we are gods, with all the benefits that will thus accrue to us, this will prevent the introduction of the venereals to this place.’

  It was Burney’s turn to smile. ‘You may well be right, sir.’

  That night, after the party had returned to the ship, a strong north-easterly wind got up. By morning it was gusting to over 50 knots. The resulting heavy sea caused the sloops to strain at their cables and made it impossible for the boats even to attempt to land on Kow-ay-ee. ‘It’s threatening to drag our anchors, Captain,’ Bligh reported anxiously. Realising they could no longer remain in this position, James ordered the master to set a course for the much smaller island several miles to the west, which they had learned was called Nee-ee-how.

  They weighed, then after making short boards for the next two days both ships settled into a suitable anchorage off Nee-ee-how’s southern coast. However, the surf was still strong and it was another day before the launches could go ashore safely.

  Nee-ee-how was not only smaller than Kow-ay-ee, it was also very different topographically. Elongated and far less mountainous, it had a wide, sheltered bay on its south-western coast. A stream flowed into the bay at the western end, near a cluster of huts.

  When the crews went ashore the people again greeted them with adoration and offered them abundant quantities of pig meat, fish, sugar cane, yams and sweet potatoes. The terms of trade were the most favourable the Englishmen had ever known. In return for their produce the islanders asked only for nails and scraps of iron. These they prized as if they were gold ingots.

  The men of Nee-ee-how came out to the ships in their canoes and were welcomed aboard by the crews. They were all cloaked, and wore woven headdresses which resembled helmets. This garb seemed unsuitable, considering that the air temperature was more than 100 degrees. The Nee-ee-how men stared about the decks in amazement, then indicated that they wished to be shown below. The officers asked James if this was permissible. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but watch them closely, to ensure they don’t steal.’

  It was necessary to fill the ships’ water casks before they sailed again, and Nee-ee-how’s stream would be an ideal source, being close to their anchorage. Gore was placed in charge of the boats—two from Resolution and one from Discovery—which left early in the morning, intending to spend the day ashore. Dozens of empty casks were stacked in the three boats.

  Watching them pulling towards the beach, James made note of the date. January the 28th. He was concerned at how long they had spent in these waters. Over a month, now. They must quit these islands soon if they were to make New Albion by the spring and the North Pacific by summer. Through his scope he watched Gore and the others hauling the launches up onto the shore. It was important that the casks were all filled and stowed by the end of the day.

  They weren’t. In the afternoon the wind strengthened again, then increased to gale force. The seas rose steeply. The sloops’ anchors were firmly grounded and did not drag, but the swells that streamed towards the island turned to combers which pounded on the beach. Gore and his men pulled the launches further up onto the shore, well beyond the reach of the waves. A prudent gesture, James realised. The pounding breakers meant that the parties would have to spend the night on the island. It would be impossible to launch the laden boats safely in these conditions. But it negated James’s policy of forbidding the men to stay ashore. Still, he thought, tomorrow the wind would likely abate.

  It didn’t. It persisted for the next three days, accompanied by squally rain. The waves continued to beat strongly on the shore. The natives couldn’t launch their canoes; the ships’ launches remained likewise marooned. Gore and the crewmen were out of sight, having gone inland to seek shelter, the others assumed.

  On the fourth day the wind dropped and the boats were able to return with the watering party. The casks had been filled from the stream and Gore reported that they had been well treated while they saw out the stormy conditions on land.

  ‘A fine island, this one,’ he told James. ‘Fertile and well watered.’ They were watching the men hauling the casks aboard from the boats and lowering them into the hold. This time they worked cheerfully, laughing and ribbing each other good-naturedly.

  In view of Gore’s report, and having noted the thriving garden plots and well-kept villages on Nee-ee-how’s coastal plain, James concluded that this place would be ideally suited to the introduction of English farm animals. Accordingly, he decided that a ram and two ewes, and a boar and sow, would be released on the island.

  James, Anderson and botanist Nelson went in the launch with th
e livestock. They also took bags of seeds: melons, pumpkins and onions.

  Onshore they were greeted by the local chief, a rotund, middle-aged man called Kamakamaka. After the now-ritual prostrating, Nelson explained to him how the seeds were to be planted, tended and harvested. Being agricultural people, Kamakamaka’s subjects understood, nodding appreciatively as they palmed the exotic seeds.

  The sheep and pigs were disembarked, frisking on the shore as they realised they had been liberated from their pens. They were led away to a patch of land behind the village where grass grew thickly. The grass was called pili, Kamakamaka said, and was used to thatch the roofs of their houses. The villagers emerged from the houses and stared in wonderment at the sheep as they settled to their grazing. Some of them touched the sheep’s springy fleeces, then laughed. They knew pigs, but what were these strange creatures covered in curly white hair?

  Now that their departure was imminent, the crews were vigorous in their preparations. On Resolution, Bligh was thoroughly inspecting the rigging and sailmaker Widdall was aloft, checking the mainmast yards and canvas. Other crewmen greased the blocks with pork fat or scrubbed the decks. The launches had been hoisted aboard and lashed into place.

  James and King stood on the quarterdeck, closely observing the maintenance. ‘When will we weigh?’ King asked.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said James. ‘At first light.’

  ‘We’re well provisioned, the clerks report.’

  ‘Yes, both islands have been generous to us.’

  King stared shoreward, where the waves were now breaking languidly on Nee-ee-how’s curving shore. ‘I wonder, sir,’ he said, ‘if you have given thought to naming this new archipelago?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They will be named the Sandwich Isles, to keep a promise I made to the First Sea Lord.’

  King grinned. ‘Lord Sandwich will be mightily flattered, sir.’

  ‘Yes. And grateful, I believe.’ He gripped the starboard rail. ‘Inform the other officers that there will be a meeting in the Great Cabin after supper this evening.’

  James had spread the chart of the known Pacific on the cabin table. The oil lamp dangling above the table illuminated the ocean’s previously charted islands. The officers were seated around the table, clutching their coffee mugs. The group included Webber, along with Clerke, Burney and Rickman, who had been rowed across from Discovery. Bligh was also present. The pipes of Webber and Gore emitted clouds of smoke which mingled with the smell of coffee and the lamp’s burning oil. The atmosphere in the cabin was close but convivial.

  James announced the new name for the islands. ‘After we weigh in the morning we will take the north-east course I have set, to take advantage of the westerly winds.’ He put his left hand on the map. ‘Anderson and I have calculated that this island, Nee-ee-how, is one hundred and sixty degrees ten minutes West of Greenwich.’ His hand moved to the right. ‘Here is the known coast of New Albion. Its longitude is estimated—our compatriot Drake did not have the advantage our faithful timekeeper gives us—to be one hundred and twenty-six degrees West. A difference of approximately thirty-four degrees, which gives us an estimated distance to cover of two thousand, three hundred and fifty-one nautical miles. A considerable distance, gentlemen. A deduced reckoning of a month. Longer, perhaps. Once we have closed the New Albion coast, we will proceed north, charting its features until we reach the Bering Strait.’ His eyes shone with anticipation. ‘And the North-east Passage.’ He put his forefinger on the blank area north of the Bering Sea. ‘And thence to the North Atlantic, and England.’

  There was a hum of excitement around the cabin as the others looked at each other eagerly. At last the great prize was, if not in sight, then at least in prospect.

  James looked from one man to the next. ‘Are there any questions?’

  ‘Then we shall not be returning to these islands, sir?’ The question came from Gore.

  ‘No. But the Sandwich Isles are henceforth England’s, for subsequent expeditions to fully survey. And perhaps settle.’

  Burney raised his hand. ‘A point of interest, sir. As you know, I have been compiling a South Sea lexicon. Coming to these islands has allowed me to extend it.’ He took his notebook from his jacket and opened it. ‘I am struck by the similarity in vocabulary among the various islands we have visited. For example, the New Zealand word for love, “a-ro-ha”, has a clear echo in the word for fond greeting in these islands, “a-lo-ha”. The word for house is “whare” in New Zealand, “fare” in the Society Isles and “hale” here. The Friendly Islanders’ word for their mulberry-bark cloth, “tapa”, is here called “kapa”.’ Burney paused, then explained, ‘The Sandwich Islanders appear not to possess the “t” sound. But the word for bird, “manu”, is the same in all the islands, and the word for woman, “wahine”, differs only in that in the Society Isles the “w” is pronounced as a “v”.’ He closed his notebook. ‘There are many other examples. So it’s my belief that this confirms our earlier conclusion, that the people of the central Pacific are all related.’

  King leaned forward. ‘Yes. It would be far too great a coincidence to claim that the words had evolved separately, would it not?’

  ‘Indeed it would,’ said Burney, looking gratified. Only Williamson looked sceptical.

  Giving Burney a nod of appreciation, James said, ‘Your work is proving valuable, Burney. And your and Gibson’s interpretings have been of great benefit to us. I hope your work will be published after we return to England.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I hope so too.’

  James’s attention returned to the chart. ‘It will be of great interest for us to discover what the language of the natives of North America is like. Could it be in any way related to that of the South Sea natives, for instance?’

  ‘I will certainly continue my compilations there,’ Burney said.

  ‘Good. Now, are there any other matters that require our consideration?’ James asked, looking around the table.

  Clerke was about to speak, but was suddenly overtaken by an outburst of coughing. He put his handkerchief across his face, but the cough persisted, a rattling hacking that he could not stop. As the others looked at him with concern he gasped, ‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ then staggered from the cabin. Anderson got up and followed him.

  ‘Prepare to weigh anchor!’ Ewin bellowed from the mid-deck, Bligh standing alongside him. The eight men at the capstan heaved at the bars. The capstan began to turn, slowly. First the messenger—light, braided cordage—appeared at the starboard hawsehole, then when the first of the thick wet cable followed, the anchor came a-peak. As the sails started to draw, Resolution began to stir, slowly, like a buffalo waking then staggering to its feet.

  The shouts of Discovery’s bosun, Aitken, carried the few hundred yards across the water to Resolution. Discovery too began to stir. Both ships’ scarlet ensigns were fluttering. James stared up at the tell-tales. An easterly, and strengthening. On Resolution, master’s mate Roberts yelled, ‘Let go the topgallants!’ Men edged along the footropes and released the canvas. More dripping cable came up through the hawsehole, then the anchor was hauled and made fast. An agitated Bligh called up to the helmsmen, ‘Due north! Due north!’

  The sails of the sloops billowed, and minutes later they settled into their course. Their hulls rose and fell rhythmically as they slid through the green swells, already cutting a fine feather. A light rain began to fall. Minutes later a rainbow appeared across Nee-ee-how. The sky cleared and the sun shone on the island’s forests and highest mountain, which they had learned was called Parn-ee-how. Bayly had measured it at 1250 feet and James had marked it on the chart of the island that Bligh had drawn.

  They had been in the Sandwich Isles for five weeks, and two of the islands, Kow-ay-ee and Nee-ee-how, had been added to the latest map of the Pacific Ocean. There would be other islands in the vicinity that remained to be surveyed, of that James was sure. But they had to move on. The North-east P
assage was calling, and its song was strong.

  MONDAY, 2 FEBRUARY 1778

  After Discovery had joined us I stood away to the northward, close-hauled with a gentle gale easterly. On the 7th being in the latitude of 29° North, longitude 200° East, the wind veered to SE and enabled us to steer NE and E, which courses were continued till the 12th when the wind had veered round by the South and west to NE and ENE. I then tacked and stood to the northward.

  Twenty-three

  31 MARCH 1778

  Dearest Elizabeth,

  Although we have not yet landed, we have reached the west coast of North America!

  A week ago we first saw evidence that land was near—driftwood, seals and different birds—and on 6 March we sighted the coast. It took us just five weeks to sail the more than 2300 nautical miles from what I have named the Sandwich Islands to this continent, an accomplishment which is deeply satisfying to me.

  At first the weather along the coast was unfavourable, with gale-force westerlies. Consequent heavy seas obliged us to keep five to six leagues offshore and forced us south rather than our desired northward course. (In retribution I have named one landmark we passed Cape Foulweather.) We have been well used to tropical seas and constant high temperatures, so the newly cold conditions greatly bother us. Although I have issued the crew with fearnoughts for the first time in many months, the men continue to shiver with the cold as they move about the decks.

  Our water supplies are low and both ships are again in need of repairs. The sails are in poor condition and again the decks require re-caulking.

  This angers me. I am often short-tempered lately. Aware of this, I attempt to control my rages, but struggle to do so. At such times I sense the eyes of my officers on me, concerned at my intemperance. My anger at the condition of the ship is made worse by attacks of the bilious colic, which has returned. I have referred this to surgeon Anderson, but he does nothing for me except to prescribe more wort and laudanum. He has his own affliction to contend with. He has begun to cough blood, he confided to me.