by Rob Mundle
Cook, too, had no doubt that this was New Zealand, simply because of Endeavour’s relatively close proximity in latitude and longitude to that given by Tasman, even though they were approaching from the east. He could only wonder how great this landmass might be … and was it Terra Australis Incognita? That would be known once they had followed the Admiralty’s instructions and explored this little-known coast to the best of their ability.
CHAPTER NINE
A Tale of Two Islands
A light breeze continued to hobble Endeavour’s passage towards the eagerly anticipated landfall, where the men would finally get to go ashore and forget the rugged times they had experienced since departing Otaheite almost three months before. Now, as frustratingly slow as their progress was at the time, the onset of darkness caused Cook to call for the sail area to be reduced, and the ship slowed even more.
A safe approach would therefore be made in daylight, before which Cook recorded his first impressions of the immediate area: ‘We saw in the Bay several Canoes, People upon the Shore, and some houses in the Country. The land on the Sea Coast is high, with Steep Cliffs; and back inland are very high Mountains. The face of the Country is of a hilly surface, and appears to be clothed with wood and Verdure.’
As it would be revealed, they were approaching New Zealand’s North Island, and destined to land at a location about halfway along its eastern coast. Cook noted that it was the afternoon of 9 October 1769 (8 October on today’s calendar) when they sailed into the bay he had observed. Once inside, and with Endeavour in safe water about 2 miles from shore, he called for the best bower to be released from the cathead and let run to the bottom.
Not surprisingly, the entire crew were overcome with the excitement that came with being confronted by a barely known, unmapped part of the world. Yet this would prove to be an inauspicious start to their exploration of the coastal boundaries of this land.
The Maoris onshore could only have watched in awe as an alien object of proportions and form they had never previously witnessed, yet manned by oddly dressed humans, entered their home waters and anchored in the north-east corner of the bay. The site was just off the entrance to a small river, the Turanganui, which, at 300 yards in length, is claimed by many to be the shortest river in the southern hemisphere. Today the town of Gisborne stands on its eastern bank.
Eager to acquaint himself with the local people, Cook boarded the pinnace with Banks and Solander, and headed for shore, accompanied by a party of armed men aboard the yawl. As they reached the beach, the Maoris retreated hurriedly towards their huts, about 300 yards inland, so Cook had some men remain to protect the boats while he and others set off in pursuit, in the hope that they could establish some form of dialogue. But while this was happening, other Maoris emerged from hiding ‘in the woods’ and made a move to attack the four men manning the yawl, as Cook later reported:
The coxswain of the Pinnace, who had the charge of the Boats, seeing this, fired 2 Muskets over their Heads; the first made them stop and Look round them, but the 2nd they took no notice of; upon which a third was fired and killed one of them upon the Spot just as he was going to dart his spear at the Boat. At this the other three stood motionless for a Minute or two, seemingly quite surprised; wondering, no doubt, what it was that had thus killed their Comrade; but as soon as they recovered themselves they made off, dragging the Dead body a little way and then left it.
On hearing the shots coming from the beach, Cook immediately returned to the boats and ordered all his men back to the ship. The following morning, after seeing Maoris gathered onshore once more, he decided to try again to make peaceful contact:
Mr Banks, Dr Solander, and myself at first only landed, and went to the side of the river, the natives being got together on the opposite side. We called to them in the George Island Language, but they answered us by flourishing their weapons over their heads and dancing, as we supposed, the War Dance; upon this we retired until the marines [who were carrying the Union Jack] were landed which I ordered to be drawn up about 200 yards behind us. We then went again to the river side, [where] Tupia spoke to them in his own Language, and it was an agreeable surprise to us to find that they perfectly understood him. After some little conversation had passed one of them swam over to us, and after him 20 or 30 more; these last brought their Arms with them, which the first man did not. We made them every one presents, but this did not satisfy them; they wanted but everything we had about us, particularly our Arms, and made several attempts to snatch them out of our hands. Tupia told us several times, as soon as they came over, to take care of ourselves for they were not our friends; and this we very soon found, for one of them snatched Mr. Green’s hanger [short sword] from him and would not give it up; this encouraged the rest to be more insolent, and seeing others coming over to join them, I ordered the man who had taken the Hanger to be fired at, which was accordingly done, and wounded in such a manner that he died soon after.
Another three Maoris were wounded before this confrontation ended. Cook then ordered his men back to the ship.
The words of the president of the Royal Society, the Earl of Morton, which were imparted to Cook prior to his departure from England, must have been ringing in the captain’s ears. His Lordship had suggested most strongly that Cook and his men do everything within their power to be tolerant of, and kind to, the indigenous people they met during their journey. Unfortunately, this first encounter with the Maoris of New Zealand was in direct contrast to what they had experienced with the islanders of Otaheite. Even so, the captain would before long reveal an inherent wisdom that would, throughout his life as a seafarer and explorer, put him in a position where he could measure a moment and, more often than not, transform a dangerous confrontation with the indigenous people into one of cautious understanding and respect between two distinctly different cultures.
Cook remained determined to try to make peace with these people, but what would follow was almost beyond belief. The following day, when aboard one of Endeavour’s small tenders, he attempted to intercept two canoes carrying a small group of Maoris that were out on the bay, but they would have no part of the visitors, and paddled as hard as they could to get away. Shots were then fired over their heads in a bid to stop them, but that, too, failed. Instead, it had the opposite effect: they turned and prepared to attack the visitors. ‘This obliged us to fire upon them,’ a regretful Cook later explained, ‘and unfortunately either two or three were killed and one wounded.’
However, three young men, who had jumped overboard from a canoe, were retrieved and taken back to Endeavour, ‘where they was Clothed and Treated with all imaginable kindness … and to the Surprise of everybody became at once as cheerful and as merry as if they had been with their own Friends’. Cook reflected on the incident in his journal:
I am aware that most Humane men who have not experienced things of this nature will Censure my Conduct in firing upon the People in their Boat, nor do I myself think that the reason I had for seizing upon her will at all justify me; and had I thought that they would have made the Least Resistance I would not have come near them; but as they did, I was not to stand still and suffer either myself or those that were with me to be knocked on the head …
This life-threatening confrontation placed an equally burdensome load of emotion on Banks, who was in the thick of the action alongside Cook. He had been the first to fire at, and strike down, the ‘indian’ who was making off with Green’s short sword the previous day. He was also there for the skirmish with the men in the canoes. This was the closing entry in his journal for the day: ‘Thus ended the most disagreeable day My life has yet seen, black be the mark for it and heaven send that such may never return to embitter future reflection.’
The three men were returned to the beach the following morning, but they refused to part company with Cook and his group, ‘pretending that they should fall into the hands of their enemies who would kill and eat them’. So they were taken back to the ship. Soon afterwar
ds, however, when Cook and his men were challenged by three large groups of Maoris on the beach – almost 200 in all – Tupia was able ‘to Parley with them’ to the point where the friendly intentions of the visitors were eventually recognised.
It was Cook’s plan to commence his coastal exploration of this land on the morning of 11 October, so the evening before, he again put the three local men ashore. Much to his relief, this time they appeared to be welcomed by their own people. Also, before weighing anchor, the captain did as he had promised and named a prominent coastal feature in this region, the headland at the southwestern end of the bay, ‘Young Nick’s Head’, in honour of the boy who first sighted the coast. (Although there was no record of him receiving the promised gallon of rum, it is assumed that it was handed over.) Cook chose to name the expanse of water where they were anchored ‘Poverty Bay’ because, he explained, ‘it afforded us no one thing we wanted’ in the form of foodstuff, except for a few herbs that could be used for the prevention of scurvy.
The shrill of the bosun’s whistle, then the corresponding call that the bower was aweigh, came at 6 am. While the monotonous sound of the wooden pawls on the windlass encouraged the men who were working hard to haul in the heavily tarred bower cable, other men were busy on deck at the three masts, hauling down sails so they could be set and trimmed to best suit the gentle northerly breeze that was fanning across the bay. At the same time the captain stood on the quarterdeck, watching every manoeuvre that came as a response to orders from Lieutenants Hickes and Gore. He had already advised the sailing master, Molyneux, what the desired course to the south would be – one that would, in general, follow the flow of the coastline.
Endeavour’s offing from the shore would depend on the depth of water and the all-important surveillance from lookouts stationed near the masthead. It was certainly hoped that the course would be close enough for observations to be made that would lead to the creation of relatively accurate preliminary charts and notes relating to the coastline. The key part of this initial exploration was to sail no more than 150 nautical miles to the south, to around 41 degrees latitude, a position that would roughly correspond with the latitude that Tasman was on when he made his first sighting of land when approaching from the west. Then, depending on what had been found and what could be seen to the south, Cook would decide to either continue sailing south or return to the north and explore the coast in that direction.
While the Yorkshireman probably gave it little thought, this was a momentous period in his life as a mariner and explorer: he was about to embark on his first true voyage of discovery on which he would explore a foreign landmass, the extent of which was hitherto unknown to Europeans. It meant he was also highly likely to make a considerable contribution to the map of the world.
After two days, though, Cook had come to the disappointing realisation that one of his biggest challenges during this time would be dealing with the New Zealand Maoris, who continually demonstrated high levels of aggression. Endeavour was then less than 100 nautical miles south of Poverty Bay, and in a position similar to that experienced on his day of arrival. Some of the Maoris they were encountering were peaceably inclined and accommodating, but at this time the majority alongside the ship were chanting war songs while they shook their ‘pikes’ (spears) in defiance, and threatened to kill every man aboard Endeavour.
On approach to Hawke’s Bay – which Cook named after the First Lord of the Admiralty, Sir Edward Hawke – the wind went from fair to nothing, and this encouraged a group of Maoris to come offshore in their canoes. Much to the pleasure of Cook and Banks, these people were friendly; they accepted an invitation to board the ship, then when it came time to leave, they departed without rancour. However, they unknowingly left three of their group behind and, quite amazingly, did not return to collect them. Of more surprise perhaps, the guests showed no alarm, and were quite happy to stay aboard until the next morning. It was soon after sunrise when men on deck noticed another canoe in close proximity, so they hailed it to come alongside in order that the guests could be taken back to the coast. Yet the Maoris would not approach until their three compatriots assured them, as Cook noted, ‘we did not Eat men’.
In a foretaste of many more incidents over the ensuing weeks, the first attempts to attack the ship came on 13 and 14 October, one involving some 150 Maoris aboard nine very large canoes. A prompt display of British firepower – first musket shots in their general direction, then a booming shot from a 4-pounder carriage gun mounted on deck – resulted in the attackers paddling away in great haste.
A far more dramatic situation developed on the 15th, when Endeavour was next to a prominent headland at the southern end of Hawke’s Bay. The episode took place when some of those on board began bartering with a group of Maoris, as Cook recalled:
… one of the Boats came alongside and offered us some more fish. The Indian Boy Tiata, Tupia’s Servant, being over the side, they seized hold of him, pulled him into the Boat and endeavoured to carry him off; this obliged us to fire upon them, which gave the Boy an opportunity to jump overboard. We brought the Ship too, lowered a Boat into the Water, and took him up unhurt. Two or three paid for this daring attempt with the loss of their lives, and many more would have suffered had it not been for fear of killing the Boy. This affair occasioned my giving this point of land the name of Cape Kidnappers …
After two more days of slow progress, Endeavour was at 40 degrees 34 minutes south, and here Cook deliberated with others about their observations so far and what they might expect to find ahead. As a result, he made a decision on the next stage of their exploration that would prove to be very astute:
Seeing no likelihood of meeting with a Harbour, and the face of the Country Visibly altering for the worse, I thought that the standing farther to the South would not be attended with any Valuable discovery, but would be losing of Time, which might be better employed and with a greater Probability of success in examining the Coast to the Northward. The Bluff head or high point of land we were abreast off at Noon I have called Cape Turnagain because here we returned …
During their passage to the south, both Cook and Banks were impressed by the snow-capped mountain ranges they were seeing to the west, many with their peaks protruding above elongated banks of white cloud. Later, once Endeavour had turned around and was to the north of Poverty Bay, they also became increasingly enthused by the number of bays and inlets they were then observing.
A potential tragedy was averted at Anaura Bay, north of Gisborne, when Banks, Solander and Tupia went ashore in the ship’s boats, which had been sent to find water. Late in the day, some of the Maoris offered to transfer the trio back to the ship in one of their canoes, but it was swamped while trying to make its way out through the surf. The visitors were then forced to stay ashore for the night. In the morning they ‘embarked again and came without incident to the ship’.
It was too rough for Endeavour to anchor there, so Cook backtracked to Tolaga Bay, 25 nautical miles north of Poverty Bay, where they were also exceedingly well received by the indigenous people. Once ashore, Banks and his men went ‘botanizing’ – collecting samples of the flora as well as some artefacts – while Cook did his own exploring. Of note, he wrote, ‘We saw no four-footed Animals, either Tame or Wild, or signs of any, except Dogs and Rats’ (which history would later confirm were the only quadrupeds in New Zealand). He also had some hands collect the wild celery that they found in what is now known as Cook’s Cove, a wedge-shaped inlet at the southern end of this bay: ‘This [celery] is found here in great plenty, and I have caused it to be boiled with Portable Soup and Oatmeal every morning for the people’s breakfast … I look upon it to be very wholesome and a great Antiscorbutic.’ The same cove proved to hold a treasure trove of natural wonderments for Banks et al., as well as a good source for water and wood. Twelve tons of water was put aboard the ship along with close to three boat-loads of firewood.
On 31 October, Cook made numerous observations regarding a 50
0-foot-high bluff that his ship was rounding at the time while riding a fresh south-easterly gale: ‘This point of Land I have called East Cape, because I have great reason to think that it is the Eastern-most land on this whole Coast.’ His supposition would subsequently prove correct. Then, after clearing that cape, Endeavour sailed through the night on a gentle, arcing course to the west over a distance of 33 nautical miles until, at 9 am, another impressive 500-foot cape was abeam. This one had a profile that sloped down to the coast. It so happened that while Cook and others were detailing the primary features of this very conspicuous landform, another small armada of canoes carrying hostile Maoris made an approach from the shore, obviously with the intention of attacking this strange vessel. One canoe was so large that it carried sixty warmongering warriors. Their display of aggression increased as the canoe closed on the ship – the men were chanting songs of defiance while making powerful and threatening gestures with their spears. Cook had tired of this all-too-regular sabre-rattling, so he responded in what would be seen in this era as an appropriate, but not provocative, manner:
… it fully appeared that they came with no friendly intentions; and I at this Time being very busy, and had no inclination to stay upon deck to watch their Motions, I ordered a Grape shot to be fired a little wide of them. This made them pull off a little, and then they got together either to consult what to do or to look about them. Upon this I ordered a round shott to be fired over their heads, which frightened them to that degree that I believe they did not think themselves safe until they got ashore. This occasioned our calling the Point of land off which this happened, Cape Runaway …