Secret Life of James Cook

Home > Other > Secret Life of James Cook > Page 37
Secret Life of James Cook Page 37

by Graeme Lay


  ‘But you have drawings to prove Savu’s reality, I trust.’

  ‘Aye, sir, I have. Of the land, and of some of the natives.’

  ‘Good. And I have charted its coast.’ He turned on his heels. ‘Now on to Batavia.’

  Twenty-nine

  IN THE GREAT CABIN, FOLLOWING SUPPER, Banks took down a volume from the bookcase. ‘I have been reading this with interest.’ He showed James the cover. ‘Have you read it, Cook?’

  ‘I have. Some years ago.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Solander.

  Banks held the book up to the cabin’s lantern light, then recited. ‘A Narrative of the Dutch Settlement of the Spice Islands, by Heinrich Van Ensing, published in an English translation in 1735. Listen to what he writes of our next port of call. “Following the heroic subjugation of the native ruler and his troops by Dutch forces in 1619, led by Jan Pieterszoon Coen, Batavia was built on the ruins of an ancient town, known as Jacarta. Renamed Batavia, after the Germanic warrior tribe, the Batavians, ancestors of the Dutch people, it was subsequently fortified and became the base and principal port for the Dutch East India empire, which is administered by the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie, or the VOC. Batavia was designed and constructed as for a Dutch city, complete with canals, warehouses and churches such as were found in the capital of the Netherlands, Amsterdam. The VOC grew immensely wealthy through the spice trade in the East India archipelago, over which it gained a monopoly, and the company possesses its own large merchant and naval fleet.”’

  The others looked displeased at this Low Country boastfulness, but Banks continued. ‘“Jan Pieterszoon Coen was determined to eliminate all but Dutch interests in the Banda Islands where nutmeg trees grew. In 1621 he led 1500 Dutch soldiers and eighty Japanese samurai warriors in a gallant attack on Lonthoir Island, in the Bandas. After the Dutch victory, Governor-General Coen commanded the samurai to behead and dismember forty-four Bandanese troops in front of their families, to provide a practical example of Dutch authority. The heads of the natives were mounted on pikes as a warning to other native rulers who may have been tempted to challenge lawful Dutch authority.”’

  Banks put the book down. ‘Hardly the actions of a civilized nation,’ he said scathingly.

  James considered this. ‘That was a hundred and fifty years ago, Banks. Civilization has advanced greatly since then.’

  ‘For we English, certainly, but I have never found even the modern Dutch to be a compassionate people.’

  ‘I am confident that England will soon surpass them in imperial possessions and trade,’ James ventured. ‘A progression which began when we defeated the French in North America. That acquisition, combined with our trade bases in India, will enable us to eclipse all remaining Dutch authority.’

  ‘Our own expedition has already significantly enlarged Britain’s colonial empire, has it not?’ suggested Parkinson. ‘Think of New South Wales.’ The others nodded, but James was thinking ruefully, Yet our discoveries have been minimal.

  Banks flipped through the book’s pages, then stopped some way further on. ‘Some of the personal testimony in this book speaks highly of the native people of the East Indies. This is what one Dutch settler has written about the women of this land: “They are all most ardently addicted to the sensual pleasures of love; and goaded on by the hottest fires of love, are ingenious in every refinement of amorous enjoyment. Mr Van Pleuren, who had resided here for eight years, and several other credible people, informed me that among these women were many who possessed the secret of being able, by certain herbs and other means, to disqualify their inconstant lovers from repeating the affront to them, insomuch that the offending part shrunk entirely away.”’

  Banks cleared his throat noisily, then added, ‘Not that I am in any need of such a prescription myself.’ He glanced at Solander. ‘I shall go ashore immediately we are permitted to do so by the authorities, and take lodgings in Batavia. Will you join me, Solander?’ The botanist nodded enthusiastically.

  1 OCTOBER 1770

  First and latter parts fresh breezes at SE and fair weather, the middle squally with lightning and rain. At 7 pm, being then in the latitude of Java Head and not seeing any land assured us that we had got too far to the westward, upon which we hauled up ENE, having before steered NBE. At 12 o’clock saw the land bearing east, tacked and stood to the SW until 4 o’clock then stood again to the eastward, having very unsettled, squally weather which split the maintopsail very much and obliged us to bend the other. Many of our sails are now so bad that they will hardly stand the least puff of wind. At 6 o’clock Java Head or the west end of Java bore SEBE distant 5 leagues, soon after this saw Princes Island and at 10 o’clock saw the island of Krakatoa.

  As they raised the south-west head of Java, then turned east towards the island’s northern coast, an air of intense expectation settled over the ship. The majority of the crew were well and could hardly wait to go ashore in Batavia, the fabled Dutch port which Molyneux and Gore had told them so much about. Others, however, were ailing. Tupaia was ill again, afflicted with headaches and nausea but refusing to eat the ship’s food or be treated with Monkhouse’s principal remedy, extract of lemon. ‘I believe he has the scurvy,’ Banks reported to James in the Great Cabin as he was making an entry in his journal.

  This suggestion was anathema to James. He hadn’t lost a single man to scurvy, and didn’t intend to now. ‘Is his boy similarly unwell?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Taiata is as chirpy as ever.’

  ‘Well, the other one will recover once we are ashore. The food there will be similar to what he was used to on Otaheite, I believe.’

  Banks gave James an edgy look. ‘You don’t much like the man, do you.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

  Momentarily taken aback by Banks’s bluntness, James said carefully, ‘I have no strong affection for him, it’s true. His conceit is misplaced on this ship.’

  ‘But he led us to Huahine, Raiatea, Tahaa and Rurutu Islands. No Europeans had been there previously. And now they are part of Britain.’

  ‘They were but minor discoveries.’

  ‘Discoveries nonetheless. And later, in New Zealand, you were most willing to make use of Tupaia’s linguistic talents.’

  ‘We all did. But thereafter he was of little use. And now he is ill and refuses treatment.’

  Banks peered through the larboard window at the coast. ‘You will recall that I said that Tupaia and his boy would be my responsibility throughout the voyage.’

  James nodded. ‘That was a condition of them joining the company. A condition which still applies.’

  ‘Indeed. So while we are ashore at Batavia the two Otaheitians will accompany Solander and me.’

  ‘As you wish.’ James stood up. ‘Is there anything else you wish to report? I have a letter to write to the Admiralty.’

  Banks grimaced. ‘Yes. Surgeon Monkhouse tells me that Green and Hicks are also unwell. Green is struck by the flux and Hicks is coughing up blood. Monkhouse himself is also feverish. His condition recalls Shakespeare’s entreaty, “Physician, heal thyself.”’ He moved towards the cabin door. ‘I must prepare to go ashore.’

  James was about to resume his journal entry when he again felt the cramp in his gut. He held his breath as the cramp grew stronger then, when it passed, let out his breath slowly. The constipation had been affecting him ever since Savu. However, rather than report this to Monkhouse, he had been taking syrup of figs, his mother’s age-old remedy. This worked, but only sporadically. As the cramp subsided he picked up his quill and resumed writing.

  After the midday meal the next day, with the coast of Java now clearly in sight, James had the officers, midshipmen and able seamen called together so that he could address them from the quarter deck. ‘Tomorrow,’ he began, ‘we will be anchoring in the roadstead of Batavia, and thereafter going ashore. I anticipate that we will be in the port for some weeks having repairs made to our ship, which has taken a beating these past weeks
.’ He moved closer to the rail and his gaze moved over the men below. ‘I am aware that many of you, not merely the officers, have kept written accounts of our voyage. These must not be retained by their authors. Instead, to preserve the confidentiality of the voyage and its associated discoveries, all journals are to be handed to me before we go ashore in Batavia. Only the gentlemen are absolved from this command.’ There was a muttering from the assembly. James waited for it to subside. ‘In accordance with my instructions, I will be dispatching all journals, charts and drawings constructed during this voyage to the Admiralty in a sealed package on the next ship which sails from Batavia to London.’ His gaze again swept the now-silent crew. ‘I say again, no written accounts of this voyage by crew members may be retained by the writer, neither are the achievements of our expedition to be disclosed to anyone not of this ship’s company. Is that understood?’

  Calls of ‘Aye, sir’ came from below, although with no great enthusiasm. Most had hitherto considered their journals to be private property, possibly for London publication and profit. Now they were resigned to the fact that this would not occur.

  ‘Those of you who have kept journals are to deliver them to the Great Cabin from this time onward.’ He allowed another pause. ‘You will all recall the matter of the grievous assault on my clerk, Orton, which remains unresolved.’ All heads, including Orton’s, looked at the deck.

  James gripped the quarter deck rail. ‘I am determined to settle the matter as it has placed a shameful stain on the fabric of this ship. Thus I am offering a reward of one guinea, and fifteen gallons of arrack, to anyone of this company who will name the culprit.’ All heads looked up sharply. A guinea and arrack. ‘I will be available in my cabin to receive any information pertaining to this regrettable incident.

  ‘I estimate that we will be entering the harbour of Batavia in less than twenty-four hours. That is all. Resume your duties.’

  As he returned to the Great Cabin James was well aware that in retaining his clandestine diary to Elizabeth, he would be in breach of his own, just-declared decree. He felt a pang of guilt at this deception (and heard a favourite saying of his Ma’s, whispering in his ear, ‘Do as I say, not as I do’). It is a transgression which would have bemused her, he thought. But he was obliged to commit it in view of the vow he had made to Elizabeth. No one need know what lay locked in the lower drawer of his writing desk, certainly not the Lords of the Admiralty. That account was a personal record, not a political or nautical one.

  There was a knock on the door of the Great Cabin. ‘Come,’ James called. On the table in front of him was a pile of journals which he was preparing for dispatch, along with his own log, and a covering report. Looking up, he saw Midshipman Magra holding out a solid, foxed book. ‘My journal, sir, as instructed.’

  James took it. ‘Thank you, Magra, it will be added to the others. You relished keeping it, did you not?’

  ‘I did, sir. It is my hope that it may be published one day.’ James nodded, and was about to dismiss him when the New Yorker said hesitantly, ‘There is something else, sir.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Saunders, sir.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He has gone, sir.’

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘No one knows, sir. It’s my belief that he has slipped ashore.’

  There was a long silence. Magra’s expression was nervy. ‘It were nothing to do with me, sir,’ he said. ‘And he told no one anything of his intentions.’

  James remembered that Saunders had been present on the night of the attack on Orton. ‘Was it you who left the note under my cabin door the day after the attack on Orton?’

  Magra looked bewildered. ‘I know nothing of a note, sir.’

  James levelled his gaze at the midshipman, searching his eyes for a lie. Finding nothing of the sort there, he looked down at the young man’s journal. ‘Very well,’ he said quietly. ‘That will be all.’

  When Magra had gone James wondered if the note could have been left by one of the others, someone who knew of another’s unnatural lust. The attack on Orton must have been due to carnal jealousy. Now he was certain of the culprit’s identity. Saunders, he thought, a would-be sodomite, and now a deserter. He would not order the marines to search for him: the ship was well rid of the man.

  There were sixteen other vessels in the roadstead, most flying the Dutch flag. The pilot boat which rowed out to Endeavour after she dropped anchor in the harbour contained a pair of VOC officials. The two Dutchmen were listless and very pale, like plants deprived of sunlight. ‘There is ample sunshine here,’ said Parkinson, puzzled, as he observed the wan pair. ‘Why are they so ashen-faced?’

  James was rowed ashore and taken to the residence of the governor, Petrus van der Parra, Hicks having earlier gone ashore to forewarn the governor of their arrival. The residence was within the city walls. Like something from central Amsterdam it was a two-storey building with pale brick walls and a roof of orange tiles with dormer windows set into it. There were tall colonnades around the entrance, and above it a hexagonal bell tower.

  James was shown into a reception room with a polished wooden floor, carved hardwood furniture, glassed-in bookcases and framed marine charts. Racks of native spears adorned one wall. A small turbaned Malay man of indeterminate age was working a large fan which was having a minimal effect on the heavily humid air. The governor entered. In his mid-fifties, he had a plump face, a small chin and a moustache of fine gold hairs. His wig reached to the shoulders of his brown velvet, gold-buttoned jacket.

  Not speaking English, Governor van der Parra had engaged an interpreter, a tubby, lugubrious Scotsman who was a merchant in Batavia. James greeted the governor and introduced himself. Through the interpreter, the governor opened their meeting by stating, ‘It is a great shame, Lieutenant Cook, that you were not here two days ago.’

  ‘Why so, governor?’

  ‘It was a public holiday. I declared it, as it was my fifty-sixth birthday. There were many celebrations in the town.’

  James nodded but thought that here was another official full of his own importance.

  The governor pressed his hands together. ‘To business, lieutenant. Where has your expedition come from?’

  James smiled thinly. ‘That is not information I am authorized to share with you, governor.’

  The governor’s eyebrows arched. ‘Is that so? I ask merely out of courtesy.’

  ‘Thank you. But all I am permitted to tell you is that my ship is King George III of England’s naval vessel Endeavour and her home port is Plymouth. I wish to apply to you for leave to heave her down and carry out repairs. And to purchase necessary provisions — fresh beef and greens, water and firewood — for the next stage of our voyage.’

  ‘Which is to?’

  Annoyed at this flagrant insistence, James said, ‘I repeat, governor, I have no authority to divulge where we are bound after we leave Batavia.’

  When this was translated, the governor scowled. Getting to his feet and waving his hand in irritation, he said, ‘I suggest you careen your vessel on Onrust Island, outside the harbour, which has the necessary facilities. Your crew must remain on a neighbouring island, Kuyper.’ He left the room, followed quickly by the fan-wielding Malay and the Scotsman.

  The carpenter, Satterly, had a bent nose, broken in a waterfront brawl in Wapping, and missing front teeth. But he knew his craft, and his repair work on the ship after the misadventure on the reef of New Holland had been admirable. Now, though, he looked crestfallen. Scratching his head, he reported to James: ‘She’ll never make it to England in her condition, sir. Her false keel is gone beyond the midships, from forward and perhaps further. She’s leaking six to twelve inches of water an hour, caused by the main keel being wounded in many places. The scarf of her stern is very open and one pump is not working. There’s weeks of work ahead, sir, in my estimation, to get her shipshape again.’ Then he brightened a little. ‘But the yards, masts and hull are satisfactory.


  New planking, replacement keels, repairs to sails. James had never imagined she was this bad. Weeks of work. He mopped his sweating brow with his sleeve. England was still half a world away and there was much hard sailing still to come. Weeks of work? Well, so be it. He instructed Satterly and his assistants to begin the repairs.

  He took accommodation in a boarding house near the harbourfront run by a Dutch couple who spoke a little English. It was a tall, slim brick building, side by side with dwellings of identical design. James’s small room was on the highest level and, although it afforded him a view of the harbour, the atmosphere was sweltering.

  Enquiries at a shipping agency nearby informed him that one of the Dutch ships, the Kronenburg, was leaving for Europe via Cape Town in ten days. There was a desk and a writing slope in the little room, and James immediately went to work.

  First he collected all his charts of the South Sea, New Zealand and New Holland, his astronomical observations and his journals, and wrapped the considerable package in canvas cloth. Before sealing it, he penned a covering report to Philip Stephens of the Admiralty.

  Although the discoveries made in this voyage are not very great, I flatter myself that they are such as may merit the attention of their lordships, and although I have failed in discovering the much talked-of Southern Continent (which perhaps does not exist) and which myself had much at heart, I am confident that no part of the failure of such discovery can be laid to my charge. Had we been so fortunate not to have run ashore, much more would have been done in the latter part of the voyage than what was, but as it is I presume this voyage will be found as complete as any before made to the South Sea.

  He concluded:

  In justice to the officers and the crew, I must say that they have gone through the fatigues and dangers of the whole voyage with that cheerfulness and alertness that will always do honour to British seamen.

 

‹ Prev