Secret Life of James Cook

by Graeme Lay

  In the coach back to Mile End Road, the Admiralty and Royal Society instructions secure in his case, James could now only worriedly anticipate his next meeting, and his next farewells.

  Removing his hat, he walked into the house. The boys ran to him and wrapped their arms around his legs. ‘Papa! Papa!’ He tousled their hair, then went into the parlour, where Elizabeth was sitting, knitting. The boys followed him into the room. Young James picked up a sheet of paper from the floor and thrust it at him. ‘Look what I drew, Papa.’ It was a pencil drawing of a ship with sails squarely rigged, flagged with a Union Jack. ‘It’s your ship, Papa.’

  ‘I know, I can tell,’ he said admiringly. ‘It’s a fine drawing. I will take it with me.’

  ‘Look at mine, Papa,’ said Nathaniel, handing it to him. It was of a cannon, spouting orange and red fire.

  ‘That looks very real, Nathaniel. I like the colours. I will take that with me, too.’ He turned to Elizabeth. ‘Where is little Lizbeth?’

  ‘Upstairs, sleeping. How was your meeting?’

  ‘Satisfactory. I was given my instructions.’

  ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Endeavour will be taken down river by a pilot. I will take a coach to Deal with Charles Green and join her there, then sail her to Plymouth Sound.’

  She got up and walked to him unsteadily, holding her stomach. He enfolded her in his arms and asked, ‘Have you decided on a name for the new child?’

  ‘I now think Mary, if a girl, after my mother. Or Joseph, if a boy, after the Bible story. Joseph and the coat of many colours. My grandmother used to read it to me.’

  James nodded. ‘Both are fine names.’ He hesitated. ‘I am so sorry that I will miss the birth, Elizabeth. And by such a short time.’

  She looked beseechingly at him. ‘There is no chance that your departure will be delayed?’

  He shook his head. ‘It cannot be. Every week is precious now.’

  She looked away. ‘Yes. For both of us.’

  He slept poorly on the last night, aware that Elizabeth, too, was finding it difficult to sleep. She hugged him tightly from behind, murmuring his name occasionally, and from time to time, too, he felt the baby move. Its time was very near, it was obvious. It seemed as anxious to arrive as he was to depart. At some time before dawn he heard muffled sobs, and felt a dampness on the back of his nightgown from Elizabeth’s tears. How long would it be, he wondered, before they were together again in this way?

  At first light he slipped from the bed, then carried hot water from the kitchen where Susan had lit the fire, shaved and put on his uniform. His packed sea chest was in the hall by the front door, alongside his polished boots. His other luggage had gone ahead of him and was already stowed in Endeavour. Susan boiled him two eggs which he ate quickly, then she made tea. He poured two cups and carried them upstairs. He went into the room where the children were still sleeping soundly, and placed a kiss on each of their cheeks. Then he went into the larger bedroom. Setting one of the cups down on the bedside table, he placed his hand on Elizabeth’s cheek. ‘Beth,’ he said softly. Rolling onto her back, she opened her eyes.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Tea?’

  As she hauled herself upright, he placed pillows behind her back, then handed her the cup. She blinked away the vestiges of sleep and pushed her long hair aside. He loved her like this, when she first woke. She seemed so natural, almost childlike in her fresh-faced innocence. She sipped the tea, then asked, ‘When does the coach come?’

  ‘At seven.’

  ‘What time is it now?’

  ‘A few minutes before.’

  ‘Oh—’

  He held her tenderly, murmuring into her warm neck. ‘I will be safe, dearest. I will be back. And I will bring you my story, which I will share with you. And only you.’ She made no reply. Instead she clutched him, as if drowning.

  At last she drew back, wiping away tears with her hand, unable to speak. He placed his hand on the unborn child and held it there for a few moments. Then he kissed her, once, on her right cheek, and left the house.

  Fourteen

  HE WAS TAKEN DOWN THE THAMES to Deptford, then took a coach and four with Green the astronomer along the North Downs with warm rain driving in from the south. When they called at a Maidstone inn for a meal, Green surprised James by consuming an entire bottle of Bordeaux by himself. Already he was revealing himself to be, as others had forewarned, overly fond of the grape.

  The coach then crossed the river Stour and took them down to Deal. The sky had cleared and there she was, Endeavour at anchor, standing off half a mile from shore, all sails furled. The wind had dropped and the red ensign fluttered at her stern. James felt a rush of pride and exhilaration at the sight. Beside him, Green belched, and James caught a gust of vin rouge. He’d better be sober when he observes the southern heavens, James thought.

  ‘She looks so small,’ said the astronomer, ‘for a circumnavigation.’

  James gave him a disapproving look. ‘Drake’s vessel was a good deal smaller, Green. Golden Hind was but 300 tons.’

  As they stood watching they saw Endeavour’s pinnace being hoisted from the deck, then lowered to the water. Putting on his tricorn, James said, ‘Time we were piped aboard. Plymouth calls.’

  The dockside days were hectic. More provisioning, stowing of gear and scientific instruments, loading of fodder for the four-legged animals and feed for the poultry, the clattering, cumbersome arrival of the marine contingent, final adjustments to rigging and sails. Hawkers and peddlers were allowed aboard, and separated the men from much of their two months’ wages.

  The gentlemen came aboard, among them the frail-looking, long-nosed young draughtsman Sydney Parkinson and his equally delicate-looking fellow Scot, Alexander Buchan; the short, deeply serious Finn, Herman Sporing; the cheery Swede Dr Solander; and others of the civilian retinue. Everyone seemed purposeful and eager as they and their equipment came aboard; everyone sensed an impetus building.

  But as James observed the busy proceedings from Endeavour’s quarter-deck, he grew increasingly impatient about the one crucial figure who had not yet appeared. Where is Joseph Banks? He detested lateness: it was something which he would not tolerate. When by the morning of 13 August Banks had still not appeared, James wrote him a curt note, instructing that he report to the ship immediately, and dispatched it express from the Plymouth post office to the botanist’s London address.

  Late in the afternoon of the following day two coaches drove up alongside the ship. Banks stepped out of the first coach and onto the dock. James was relieved at the sight of the botanist, but his tardy arrival still irked him. As Banks emerged from the coach he looked up at the ship, noticed James standing on the quarter deck and waved at him cheerily. A lanky greyhound leapt from the coach, followed by another, both wagging their tails furiously. The first dog went straight to the nearest bollard, lifted his leg and anointed it. The second sniffed his deposit approvingly. James winced at the sight. Just what was needed on a ship, two pissing dogs. Cats were useful on a ship as ratters, but dogs? A pair of tall negroes and two other men and a boy emerged from the second coach, then stood staring at the ship. The driver of the second coach and his assistant began to unload chest after chest from the roof and pile them on the dock. As he watched the luggage mountain grow, James thought, good God, we’ll need a second vessel.

  Banks, dressed in a heavily embroidered waistcoat and green velvet frock coat, white silk scarf around his neck, strode up the gangplank and onto the main deck. Smiling, he removed his three-cornered hat and held out his hand. ‘Cook, how good to see you.’ He looked around the ship. ‘All is going according to plan?’

  ‘It is, Mr Banks.’ He looked the young botanist straight in the eye. ‘But you’re late. Where have you been?’

  Banks drew back, but just a little. He said carefully, ‘When your note was delivered I was at Covent Garden. At the opera.’

  James blenched. ‘The opera?’


  ‘Yes. I was with my fiancée, Harriet Blosset.’ He took a handkerchief from inside his cuff and dabbed his brow. ‘We left as soon as I read your missive so missed the final act. I went directly home, and there made preparations to leave immediately.’ He sighed in what seemed to James to be a transparently insincere way. ‘Harriet was deeply upset.’

  Through gritted teeth James said, ‘We are all leaving loved ones behind, Mr Banks.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I presume so.’ His dark eyes oozed false emotion. ‘Lovers, mothers, wives.’ He tucked the kerchief back inside his cuff. ‘Harriet is going to embroider more waistcoats for me while I’m away.’ He looked around. ‘Now, where is my cabin?’

  By 23 August they were ready to put to sea. James told the bosun, John Guthrey, to order the crew and the gentlemen to assemble on the main deck. Then, flanked by lieutenants Zachary Hicks and John Gore on the quarter deck, he read the Articles of War to the ninety-one men below. ‘… All flag officers, and all persons in or belonging to His Majesty’s ships or vessels of war, being guilty of profane oaths, cursings, execrations, drunkenness, uncleanness, or other scandalous actions, in derogation of God’s honour, and corruption of good manners, shall incur such punishment as a court martial shall think fit to impose, and as the nature and degree of their offence shall deserve … No person in or belonging to the fleet shall sleep upon his watch, or negligently perform the duty imposed on him, or forsake his station, upon pain of death, or such other punishment as a court martial shall think to impose, and as the circumstances of the case shall require …’

  In all, it took him half an hour to read the thirty-five Articles. Below him on the deck there were mixed expressions: boredom and scepticism on the faces of the old hands, aware that many of the clauses would be more honoured in the breach than in the observance. Whenever had serving seamen not uttered profane oaths and cursings, or displayed drunkenness and uncleanness? But among the younger crew there was visible apprehension at the mention of certain phrases: ‘punished with death’, ‘shall suffer death,’ ‘the detestable sin of buggery’, ‘sodomy with man or beast’, ‘punished with death’, ‘punishment’, ‘punishment’, ‘punishment’, ‘death’, ‘death’, ‘death’.

  For all assembled, however, hearing the Articles read aloud was a reminder, if one was needed, that after Endeavour’s mooring lines had been cast off and she was properly at sea, the commander’s powers were absolute. For good or ill, his word was to be law. And although the civilian contingent was not subject to his authority, they would certainly be bound by his sailorly judgments.

  Then, for the first of many occasions, nature intervened. A storm blew in from the south-west accompanied by driving rain, obliging Endeavour to remain in Plymouth Sound. The gale did not abate for three days. Impatient to be under way the men paced the decks, staring into the storm, or stayed below, smoking and cursing the weather. James remained in the Great Cabin, organizing and reorganizing his equipment, and hearing Banks and the other naturalists next door doing the same. He pinned little James and Nathaniel’s drawings to the wall beside his berth. Elizabeth’s journal, as he already thought of it, was locked in a drawer of the cabin’s writing desk. There it kept company with the Admiralty’s second set of instructions.

  He went over Endeavour’s manifest and inventory once more:

  Ninety-four persons, including: eight officers, a master and two master’s mates, forty able seamen, seven midshipmen, the bosun and his mates, the surgeon and surgeon’s mate, twelve marines (including a sergeant, a corporal, a drummer and nine privates). A cook (one-handed), carpenter, carpenter’s mate, gunner, sailmaker and armourer. Twelve gentlemen and their servants.

  Two dogs, three cats, one veteran nanny goat (delivered to the ship by Samuel Wallis), four pigs, seventeen sheep, twenty-four chickens and ducks.

  Eighteen months’ supply of provisions: ship’s biscuit, flour, salted beef, pickled beef, salted pork, pickled pork, suet, cheese, raisins, peas, oatmeal, onions, wheat, sugar, oil, vinegar, salt, 1200 gallons of beer, 1600 gallons of brandy, arrack and rum, 3032 gallons of wine (to be taken on in Madeira).

  Scientific instruments: two reflecting telescopes, two wooden stands for the telescopes, an astronomical quadrant, an astronomical clock and alarm clock, a brass sextant, a barometer, one journeyman clock, two thermometers, a dipping needle, one portable wood and canvas observatory.

  The library: the recently published Nautical Almanac, containing tables of the Moon, for calculating longitude by the Lunar Method, a translation of Tasman’s voyages, accounts of the voyages of Anson and Dampier, a copy of Dalrymple’s 1767 pamphlet Discoveries made in the South Pacific, Previous to 1764, containing the routes traced by every traverser of the ocean to date, volumes of botanist Linnaeus’s illustrated works, classical writings, the works of Shakespeare and Cervantes, the Bible. Ink pots, goose feather quills and large quantities of writing paper.

  Armaments: ten four-pounder carriage guns, twelve swivel guns, muskets, pistols, swords and a good store of ammunition.

  Trifles for winning the friendship of natives and carrying on trade with them: nails, mirrors, fish-hooks, hatchets, beads red and blue, scissors, dolls.

  At last, on the afternoon of 26 August, James ordered the Union Jack and the ensign raised and gave the order for Endeavour to put to sea. John Gore declared which men were on watch; Sam Evans took the helm, Alex Weir assisting him. The mooring lines were cast off. Men scampered up the shrouds, yards and ratlines; the foresail and foretopsail were unfurled.

  A crowd had gathered on Plymouth dock to watch her leave: Admiralty people, Naval Board officials, curious locals and a handful of the town’s harlots who had provided relief for the crew in the preceding days. As her foresails filled and Endeavour moved away from the dock the spectators took off their hats and waved them. Slowly the ship moved out into the sound. Her mainsail, maintopsail and main topgallant were fully let go; sheets were secured. As these sails too filled, Endeavour began to make steady progress south, driven by a light nor’easter.

  From the quarter deck James watched the shoreline recede and the green fields of Devon fade into the grey haze. This was it, this was the culmination of all he had worked towards during his thirteen Royal Navy years: a bark of his own to command, a voyage to the far side of the world to observe the transits of two planets, the chance to claim new lands for king and country, the challenge of charting the coasts of those lands to make it safer for other Englishmen to follow.

  Feeling the chill of the breeze on his face, James lifted his chin to the wind. This was it, this was the real beginning.

  Fifteen

  JAMES ROSE AT DAWN THE NEXT MORNING. Brought a bowl of hot water by his sixteen-year-old servant William Howson, he shaved and dressed. Then nodding a brisk ‘Good day’ to John Trusslove, the marine corporal standing watch at his cabin door, he went up on deck. It was drizzling and the sea was lumpy, but the wind was still a steady eight knots and Endeavour was making way on a west north-west course. He checked the bearings with Alex Weir who was at the helm, now with John Reading, then went back below. In the Great Cabin he stared for some time through the window at the blue-grey waters of the receding Channel. Then he drew the chair up to the escritoire and his writing slope, dipped his quill in the inkwell and began to write.

  26 AUGUST 1768

  At 2 pm got under sail and put to sea having on board 94 persons, including officers, seamen, gentlemen and their servants … near 18 months’ provisions … At 6 am the Lizard bore WNW1/2W 5 or 6 leagues distant.

  26 AUGUST 1768, 7 ASSEMBLY ROW, LONDON

  It was a hard labour, the hardest Elizabeth had yet known. It had begun in the late afternoon the day before and ended just before daybreak. By lantern light, near exhaustion, she was handed the bundle by Ella Thompson, the midwife, who had washed and wrapped the baby and burned the afterbirth in the downstairs fireplace. ‘Another boy, Mistress Cook,’ Ella said. But there was concern rather than joy in her voice. />
  Teary, Elizabeth took the tiny package, which emitted a staccato cry. Pushing aside the wimple of cloth, she peered into the tiny face. ‘Joseph,’ she whispered. ‘Joseph.’

  Ella, face drawn, brought the lantern closer. ‘He seems to have trouble with his breath, mistress,’ she said. As Elizabeth stared, her own breath caught. The tiny face was screwed up, and instead of the healthy red the others had all had, his cheeks and eyelids had a bluish tinge. His eyes remained closed, and bubbles were escaping from the tiny mouth.

  ‘Put him to the breast, mistress,’ urged Ella. ‘That will give him strength.’ Holding the child with her right hand, Elizabeth hastily drew aside her gown with her left, exposing her engorged, leaking breasts. Carefully, she put the tiny, gasping mouth to her left nipple. There was a faint trembling of the bluish lips, then the little head turned away.

  James put away the official journal in the top drawer of the escritoire, unlocked the lower drawer and took out a sheet of notepaper. He set it down on the writing slope, then headed it:

  27 AUGUST 1768

  My dearest Beth,

  After some days’ delay, caused by a squally gale, we are at last at sea on a course for the Bay of Biscay and Madeira. My thoughts have much been of you and little James, Nathaniel and Elizabeth. Doubtless the children are greatly excited by the imminent arrival of a baby brother or sister, a little Mary or a little Joseph.

  Endeavour promises to be a sturdy vessel for the purposes of this expedition. She is not a ship of great size or beauty, but I already have a sense of her strength and determination. The holds are crammed, the animals penned, the crew set to with a will, the marines carry out their drills amidships (a spectacle which causes the crew great amusement), and the civilian scientists, though unused to extended life at sea, discuss the voyage constantly and pore over the charts and journals of those who have gone before us.