by Rob Mundle
The bond between Banks and Cook spanned the three remarkable ‘voyages of discovery’ into the Pacific and subsequently led to the creation of that great triumvirate of seafarers and explorers: Cook, Bligh and Flinders. Bligh sailed with Cook, and Flinders sailed with Bligh – and Banks was the catalyst bonding all three. It was Cook who imparted much of his hard-earned knowledge of seafaring, exploration, cartography and caring for crew on to Bligh, who in turn conveyed it to Flinders.
In the spring of 1768, though, all that lay way beyond perception and over history’s misty horizon.
From the moment his appointment became official on 25 May, Cook’s immediate task was to oversee the final preparation of Endeavour at the Royal Navy Dockyards at Deptford. The yard, which was established on the south bank of the Thames some 250 years earlier, under orders from King Henry VIII, comprised a large ship basin, dry docks, and solid stone buildings that housed many of the operations needed for shipbuilding and maintenance. As close as Deptford was to London – just 5 miles downstream as the ebb tide flowed – this extremely busy facility was in direct contrast to the tranquil environment that surrounded it: wide green fields, where cattle grazed lazily and little else happened. In the distance, though, about a mile away across the fields to the southeast, Flamsteed House could be seen. This was the original structure of what is now the Royal Greenwich Observatory, the home of Greenwich Mean Time and the world’s prime meridian – the two principal elements of navigation.
On the same day that the Admiralty announced his appointment, word reached Cook from the dockyard officers that work on the ship would be sufficiently advanced the following week for the crew – many of whom he had hand-picked because of their considerable seafaring experience – to be able to go aboard. He then arranged to be transported to Deptford two days later so that he could see his new command for the first time and become acquainted with her. To get there, he would almost certainly have been rowed downriver from London aboard a small naval launch or cutter, with him sitting at the stern. When he arrived at Deptford, Endeavour was afloat in the basin and the centre of much activity. Shipwrights, riggers and general labourers were toiling at their assigned jobs, across her length and breadth.
As he stepped onto the deck for the first time, Cook would have stood out among all others present, not simply because of his height, but also because of his impressive lieutenant’s uniform – an open-faced blue jacket with large, boldly embroidered gold cuffs, collar and front, as well as gold-laced buttons. The waistcoat, which also featured gold buttons, was, like his breeches and stockings, white. His shoes were black leather and had ornate pinchbeck buckles. To cap it all off, he would have been wearing a tricorn hat.
Once aboard, Cook presented his ribbon-like red, white and blue Commissioning Pendant to the most senior officer on duty, and this was then hoisted to the top of the mainmast. Once the 10-yard-long pendant had reached full hoist and begun its swirling dance in the breeze, the message was there for all to see: Lieutenant Cook was on board Endeavour and in charge as captain. Cook recorded of his first weeks as commander: ‘From this day to the 21st of July we were constantly employed in fitting the Ship taking on board stores and Provisions …’
Fortunately, the fact that Endeavour had previously been a coastal collier – which, ironically, operated out of Whitby for some time – meant that the new captain was familiar with her primary features and her proportions. But that same awareness left Cook in no doubt as to the magnitude of the task that confronted him. The transformation of this ship from collier to expedition vessel impacted on almost every part of her. From gunwale to gunwale, stem to stern and bilge to masthead. This refit was the top-priority project at Deptford, not least because three valuable weeks had already been lost due to worker unrest.
No sooner had Cook taken up his command than he was pleased to learn that while in dry dock, the bottom of Endeavour’s hull had been sheathed – not in copper sheeting, which was the emerging trend, but in the traditional manner, using timber boards, his preferred method. The hull planks had first been covered with a mixture of tar and felt, before the almost inch-thick boards were laid over the top as an outer skin and fastened to the hull using thousands of galvanised nails.
Cook was convinced that this was the best way to prevent his ship being attacked by the ocean’s version of termites, the teredo worm, on such a long voyage into tropical waters: the boards used for the sheathing were sacrificial, not structural. Also, should the ship ever run aground and need repairing, the repairs would be easier to complete without copper sheathing.
It must be asked if there was also an element of intuition associated with Cook’s preference for timber over copper: did this highly experienced seafarer think that the supposed benefits that came from copper sheathing might, in time, be outweighed by new and as yet unforeseen problems? If this was the case, then Cook could well have saved his ship, and the lives of his entire crew. The most catastrophic example of such copper-related problems occurred in 1780, when the Royal Navy’s 100-gun, three-decker HMS Royal George suddenly sank in calm waters off Spithead, taking around 900 crewmen to a watery grave. The cause was an electrolytic action between the ship’s copper hull sheathing and the iron fastenings in the hull planks. Royal George literally fell apart: the fastenings failed, the planks sprang open and the ship took on a torrent of water. Other ships suffered a similar fate just two years after being copper-sheathed – and Cook’s voyage was destined to be at least that long.
One feature that Cook insisted on for the expedition was that era’s version of a lightning conductor – an ‘electric chain’, which was rigged from the masthead to a point below the waterline. It was an addition that came as a consequence of that historic event in 1752 when Benjamin Franklin flew a kite in an electrical storm in the hope that it would be struck by lightning, which it was. From this experiment, electricity was better understood, and the importance of creating a way of ‘earthing’ a lightning strike became obvious.
On a ship, the solution was a lightning chain, and it turned out that Cook’s decision to install such a device on Endeavour was a wise one. She was spared serious damage during a savage thunderstorm while at anchor in Batavia. A Dutch ship, which was anchored nearby, was partially dismasted by a lightning strike in the storm, while aboard Endeavour, when she too was struck, the only incident of note was when the shockwave associated with the powerful thunderbolt caused a marine sentry to drop his musket.
No doubt Cook would have familiarised himself with every detail of the marine survey that had been carried out on Earl of Pembroke at the time of purchase, and from that he would have been left in no doubt that she was robustly built. The majority of the ship was constructed of oak – a hard and very strong timber which had been used in shipbuilding as far back as the days of the Viking longships, in the ninth and tenth centuries. Moreover, he would have noted with approval that much of the hull had been secured using treenails: oaken dowels up to 3½ feet long, hammered into holes bored through planks, frames, beams and the vessel’s spine. Once the ship was launched, these dowels would swell as a result of absorbing moisture, and this would stop the timbers from pulling apart. Iron bolts were also used in the construction, a feature that would have alerted Cook to a problem that might emerge during the voyage, namely ‘iron sickness’. Iron fastenings tended to rust over a period of time and cause the timber around them to rot, to the point where the fastenings became loose and the structure was weakened. Being aware of the potential for this to happen, Cook would have insisted that the fastenings were checked regularly.
The job list for the conversion of a coal carrier to an expedition ship being prepared for a circumnavigation – one that would eventually prove to be almost 40,000 nautical miles in total distance sailed – was, by any standards, daunting. For a start, the accommodation plan for this ship of just 106 feet in overall length, 29 feet 3 inches beam and 14 feet draught, had to be increased from twenty berths to near 100, something that
called for an entire new lower deck to be built along Endeavour’s full length. The creation of this new deck made it necessary to modify the main deck so that the amount of internal volume below was appropriate for the men. Even so, much of that space did not offer full headroom; there were places where they needed to be on hands and knees to move around safely.
The necessity to change the layout was further compounded by the inclusion of Banks’ party on the voyage. The ship’s officers, who otherwise would have been accommodated near the great cabin, aft on the main deck, had to be moved to the new lower deck. Banks was set up in a small athwartships cabin at the forward end of the great cabin, while Cook’s cabin, which was smaller and not as well appointed, was on the port side of the great cabin.
Apart from the modifications to the hull at Deptford, Endeavour’s masts were replaced and re-rigged. She also took on the bulk of the stores and provisions while there. This included a load of coal, which would be used for warming and drying the ship, particularly in cold weather. Coal was preferred over wood, as it took up considerably less space in the bilge and, by being heavier, contributed to the stability of the vessel. More than 8 tons of iron ingots were also placed in Endeavour’s bilge as ballast. Deckhands and dock workers toiled tirelessly filling Endeavour’s voluminous hold with provisions and equipment. Among further items were a large quantity of salt, 100 gallons of spirits – this time arrack, the world’s only naturally fermented alcoholic beverage – plus additional hogsheads, puncheons and barrels for both wine and water. There were also medical supplies for the ship’s surgeon, and all the equipment needed for the observation of Venus.
Of high priority were the ship’s three new boats. They came as the result of a naval warrant issued on 12 April stating: ‘Long boat, pinnace and yawl to be built by Mr Burr for the Endeavour Bark.’ This was obviously an order to an outside supplier, who was probably based in the south-coast boatbuilding town of Deal. No details exist on the design or construction of these boats, but Deal was recognised for its clinker-built (with overlapping planks) small boats: so, if they came from there they would almost certainly have been built using that form of construction. Clinker-built boats have a better strength-to-weight ratio over carvel (smooth plank) construction, making a clinker boat a far better option for such a gruelling voyage. The longest of these tenders was probably 18 feet overall.
Seven weeks after Cook took command, the refit was complete, at a cost of £5394, 15 shillings and four-pence. Endeavour was finally ready to leave Deptford, and did so on 21 July. She made her way downriver to Galleons Reach and remained there until the end of the month. In that time, the majority of her armaments were put aboard: six 4-pounder carriage guns, each weighing about 1300 pounds, and twelve blunderbusses, which were mounted on swivels. Four of these were fitted to the ship’s boats, so that they could be used for protection in foreign waters.
With everything in readiness for putting to sea, a pilot went aboard Endeavour on the morning of 30 July. Soon afterwards, the ship was riding an ebb tide and a favourable light westerly breeze down the Thames on her way to The Downs, an anchorage off the coast of Kent, about 10 miles north of Dover.
On 7 August, four days after her arrival there, Lieutenant Cook joined his ship at the Channel anchorage. He had been in London, farewelling his wife and young family, and receiving his orders from the Admiralty.
His instructions came in two packets, both marked ‘Secret’. The first, which he was to open at the time of departure, directed him to sail Endeavour to Tahiti on a west-about course that would take the ship around the world’s most ill-famed point of land, Cape Horn, at the southern tip of South America. The second packet was not to be opened until after he had completed his observations of the transit of Venus. The instructions relating to this packet were very much to the point: ‘When this Service [the observation of Venus] is performed you are to put to Sea without Loss of Time, and carry into execution the Additional Instructions contained in the enclosed Sealed Packet.’
The initial orders were for Cook to first sail Endeavour to Madeira to take on wine, then to ‘proceed round Cape Horn to Port Royal Harbour in King Georges Island’. It was suggested that along the way he might stop somewhere in Brazil or the Falkland Islands, for fresh water and provisions.
Just twenty-four hours after rejoining the ship, Cook called for the anchor to be weighed and sails to be set in what was the faintest of breezes. Before long, Endeavour was sailing the English Channel for the first time in her new form, and under her new name, but she was barely making progress towards Plymouth. It took six tormenting days to cover the 200 nautical miles to that destination. That equated to just 36 miles a day at an average speed of 1.5 knots.
As soon as she achieved her anchorage off Plymouth and the best bower was dropped, Cook ordered a boat to go ashore and arrange for an express horse-drawn carriage to make a 400-mile return trip to London so that Banks and Solander could be transferred to the ship. The pair had remained in London to make final preparations. The other members of the Royal Society entourage were already aboard Endeavour, as was their luggage.
There was a never-ending stream of activity taking place aboard the ship in the lead-up to departure from English waters. This included the arrival of a complement of twelve marines – a sergeant, corporal, drummer, and nine privates. The final stores and equipment were also being ferried to the ship from shore, including four additional carriage guns and twelve barrels of gunpowder.
Back in London, the Admiralty had made a late decision to increase the complement of active sailors for this voyage to seventy, which was a significantly greater number than would normally have been required to sail a ship of Endeavour’s size. The decision came as a result of a belief manifested by the Lords that on a two-year expedition, as they knew this was likely to be, there was a high probability of death among the men as a consequence of accidents and disease. In fact, even before departure, there had been problems, when five of the original crew had to be discharged due to sickness or for personal reasons; another eighteen had decided they simply didn’t want to go, and so became ‘run men’ – deserters. All were replaced.
While Endeavour’s captain remained in the dark regarding the contents of his secret instructions, there was growing speculation in London, particularly in the press, as to what Cook’s complete orders entailed. A speculative report in The Gazetteer in August 1768 read: ‘The gentlemen, who are to sail in a few days for George’s Land, the new discovered island in the Pacific Ocean, with an intention to observe the Transit of Venus, are likewise, we are credibly informed, to attempt some new discoveries in that vast unknown tract, above the latitude 40.’
Cook was pleased that five of his shipmates from Grenville had agreed to join him aboard Endeavour, as well as his wife’s cousin, sixteen-year-old Isaac Smith, who would go on to become a master’s mate. Supporting the captain as senior officers were three seafarers of high repute: Second Lieutenant Zachary Hickes, Third Lieutenant John Gore, and the master, Robert Molyneux. The latter two men, and six other members of Endeavour’s complement, had returned to England only three months earlier after being aboard Dolphin for her most recent circumnavigation. Probably the most popular man by reputation of all on board was the incredibly competent John Thompson. It was his role to be cook for the working crew, while the captain had his own cook, as did the lieutenants. Despite having only one hand, Thompson would make sure the crew was well fed, no matter how rough the weather.
There was one other significant addition to Endeavour’s company: a well-travelled nanny goat. This animal had already completed one circumnavigation, with Wallis aboard Dolphin. Now, she was destined for a second. While her role was simply to provide milk for the officers, she had earned a reputation for being cantankerous and for standing her ground. One day in Tahiti during the Wallis expedition, she apparently took umbrage to a number of islanders who had come on board, and decided to clear the decks. It took the nanny one short burst of speed
, ending in a solid head-butt into the rear end of one of the visitors before the whole mob took fright and bolted for their canoes.
A week before Endeavour departed from her berth off the Devonshire coast, Cook mustered his crew for two important matters. The first was to read to them the Articles of War – a 3475-word Royal Navy document detailing the laws of the ship when it came to discipline, conduct and the punishment for any misdemeanours. These regulations were to be implemented by the dozen marines on board. It was also their role to protect the captain.
Cook’s other duty of the day was one the men found to be rather more gratifying. He gave each one of them two months’ pay in advance. He later noted: ‘they were well satisfied and expressed great cheerfulness and readiness to prosecute the voyage.’
Over the next few days, the heavily laden Endeavour rode quietly at anchor, responding on the odd occasion to a change in the direction of the wind, or the set of the tide. There was one last call to be made – to set sail and weigh anchor – and this was where the captain and his men had to be patient. They had to wait until the wind was from a suitable direction and of sufficient strength for the ship to depart in safety.
The moment that Cook was able to make that call, the first chapter of what history would recognise as one of the three most important voyages of discovery ever undertaken would be underway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cape Horn and the South Pacific
It was 26 August 1768 – late summer in the northern hemisphere, when the sun heads south for the equinox and one of its biannual interludes with the Equator. Each morning for the previous six days, Cook had been on deck early, first to check the direction and strength of the wind, and then to scan the skies, looking for any sign of a change in the weather. On each occasion he had reached the same conclusion: not today.