Cook

by Rob Mundle

  For Cook and his crew, the break from the fiendish weather was all too brief, at just forty-eight hours.

  … we made Sail … under the Foresail and Mainsail, but was soon obliged to take in the latter as it began to blow very hard and increased in such a manner that by 8 o’Clock it was a mere Hurricane attended with rain and the Sea run prodigious high. At this time we wore the Ship … under a Reefed Mainsail, but this was scarcely done before the Main Tack [a corner of the mainsail] gave way and we were glad to take in the Mainsail and lay-to under the Mizzen staysail.

  Even so, Cook was able to sail a course to the south – something he desperately wanted to achieve after the navigation plots he’d placed on his charts had convinced him ‘that the Northern part of this land must be very narrow’. Referring to the 50-mile-long narrow neck of land known today as Aupouri Peninsula, his theory would soon prove to be correct.

  His first challenge was to fix the position of Cape Maria van Diemen, and this he did with incredible precision. Modern technology reveals that his latitude was exact and his longitude only 3 miles out. It was a similar case when he plotted North Cape. These achievements stand to this day as part of the enduring testimony to Cook’s outstanding ability as a navigator.

  The wind turned light to such a degree that Cape Maria van Diemen remained in sight for three days, which gave Cook ample time to reflect on the horribly wild weather that he, his men and the ship had endured since rounding Cape Brett. It had been thirty-four days since they were at that cape, which was only 100 nautical miles away via the most direct course. In his journal, Cook bemoaned the adverse conditions over that period, while noting how much worse it could have been for Endeavour: ‘it will hardly be credited that in the midst of summer … such a gale of wind as we have had could have happened, which for its strength and continuance was such as I hardly was ever in before. Fortunately at this time we were at a good distance from land otherwise it might have proved fatal to us …’

  Incredibly, having departed from Massacre Bay in December 1642 and headed north up the western coast of the North Island, Abel Tasman had not landed anywhere else. So, early in January 1770, it was Cook’s opportunity to gather some of the finer details, although the weather would make it a hostile lee shore for much of the 350-plus nautical miles that lay ahead. He explained the limitations this imposed for the second day of the new year, ‘having no land in sight, not daring to go near it as the wind blowed fresh right onshore and a high rolling Sea from the Same Quarter, and knowing that there was no Harbour that we could put into in case we were Caught upon a lee shore’.

  Two days later, a similar circumstance saw the great seafarer apply some self-admonishment:

  Nothing is to be seen but long sand Hills, with hardly any Green thing upon them, and the great Sea which the prevailing Westerly winds impel upon the Shore must render this a very Dangerous Coast. This I am so fully sensible of, that … once clear of it I am determined not to come so near Again, if I can possibly avoid it, unless we have a very favourable wind indeed …

  The fact that at no time while sailing along this coast did they encounter any native canoes also confirmed the inhospitable nature that the region presented for seafarers.

  It was not until 8 January that wind conditions – a light northeasterly – gave Cook the necessary confidence to take up a course relatively close to the coast. From a few leagues offshore, Banks saw the land as being fertile, yet the savage nature of the westerly and south-westerly gales precluded any thought of making landfall. Nevertheless, Cook was able to map the coast in a general sense by calculating the angles of the shoreline.

  These coastal highlights continued to be noted; then, on 13 January, there came the most remarkable feature of all, according to Banks: ‘This morn soon after day break we had a momentary view of our great hill the top of which was thick covered with snow … How high it may be I do not take upon me to judge, but it is certainly the noblest hill I have ever seen …’ An equally impressed Cook recorded in his journal: ‘at 5 a.m. saw for a few Minutes the Top of the Peaked Mountain above the Clouds … I have named it Mount Egmont in honour of the Earl of Egmont. The shore under the foot of this Mountain forms a large Cape which I have named Cape Egmont …’

  Banks had an additional observation, concerning the ‘very pleasant and fertile’ countryside inland from the mountain, noting that ‘with our glasses we could distinguish many white lumps in companies of 50 or 60 together which probably were either stones or tufts of grass but bore much the resemblance of flocks of sheep’. In fact, these were unusual white plants that are now referred to as ‘vegetable sheep’.

  On 15 January, it was apparent to Cook that the coastline was disappearing into the distance in a south-easterly direction, and not realising at this stage that New Zealand comprised two main islands, he understandably assumed he was entering a ‘very broad and deep bay’. His immediate objective, though, was to find a suitable anchorage where many pressing tasks could be undertaken. For one, with it being six months since sailing away from Matavai Bay, Endeavour’s speed was now being impeded by the considerable amount of weed and crustacean that had taken up residence on the hull below the waterline: she needed to be careened so that the bottom could be scrubbed. There were also some defects to be repaired, and there was a need for wood and water to be collected. Finally, the captain was all too aware that a period of respite onshore would be much appreciated by the men as an escape from their claustrophobic life below deck.

  The wind strength and direction overnight propelled Endeavour more to the east than hoped, but at daylight on 16 January, the eyes of those on deck were greeted by the sight of spectacular, almost fjord-like inlets; some of them ‘miserably barren’ and other parts heavily wooded and backed by imposing hills. The wind had died by then, and there was a considerable tidal current running, so, to avoid rocks that were all-too apparent, the captain ordered that the boats be launched to tow the ship towards shore and a suitable anchorage. At two o’clock, Endeavour was securely moored in a ‘very snug cove’ on the north-western side of the inlet. It featured a beautiful, 200-yard-long sandy beach, and the hills surrounding it were ‘an entire forest’. History records that the Englishmen had entered the Marlborough Sounds region, at the top of New Zealand’s South Island.

  No sooner had the anchor cable been made fast than several canoes filled with Maoris paddled up to the ship and made their presence felt by heaving some stones onto Endeavour’s side. That done, there was an immediate about-face when Tupia engaged the men in a form of dialogue and invited them aboard the ship – an invitation some accepted, but only briefly. ‘After this they retired to their town,’ Banks recalled, before detailing his own activities: ‘we went ashore abreast of the ship where we found good wood and water and caught more fish in the seine than all our people could possibly destroy, besides shooting a multitude of Shags …’

  The following morning, Cook ordered that the ship be eased onto the beach and careened. While this was being done, about 100 Maoris arrived in canoes and gave every sign that they would become troublesome. The captain’s response was swift: he called for some small shot to be fired at one of the ringleaders, and from that moment on, they stayed a good distance away.

  On 17 January, after the ship had been careened again so that the opposite side of the hull could be scrubbed, Cook, Banks and others left in one of the boats to do some exploring. They spotted a few Maoris onshore in a small bay and went to join them, only to be confronted with more chilling evidence of cannibalism, as Cook recorded in his journal:

  Soon after we landed we meet with two or three of the Natives who not long before must have been regaling themselves upon human flesh, for I got from one of them the bone of the Fore arm of a Man or Woman which was quite fresh, and the flesh had been but lately picked off, which they told us they had eat; they gave us to understand that but a few days before they had taken, Killed, and Eat a Boat’s Crew of their Enemies or strangers, for I believe the
y look upon all strangers as Enemies … There was not one of us that had the least doubt but what these people were cannibals …

  The careening work was completed by the 18th, and over the next few days Endeavour’s crew were set new tasks. These included repairing and filling water casks, caulking the topsides, cutting firewood, harvesting grass for feed for the sheep they were carrying for a meat supply, and firing up the forge so that broken ironwork could be repaired, especially the all-important braces for the tiller: without them the ship could not be steered properly.

  At one stage, while the men were busy going about their duties, Maoris came alongside the ship offering to sell the heads of men ‘they had lately killed; both the Hairy Scalps and Skin of the faces were on’. There was no suggestion of cannibalism in this instance, and Banks bought one of the heads to add to his wide-ranging and extensive collection of items pertaining to this voyage, a collection he would present to the Royal Society once back in London. Whenever possible, he and Solander were onshore collecting plants, mosses and other samples of flora that took their interest, while Parkinson busied himself with sketching anything that appealed to his artistic eye.

  On 23 January, Cook’s exploration of this region took on a level of intrigue. In the company of one of the sailors, he climbed to the top of a high hill on Arapawa Island, 6 nautical miles by boat to the south-east of where Endeavour lay at anchor. He later wrote that he was soon ‘abundantly recompensed for the trouble I had in ascending the Hill, for from it I saw what I took to be the Eastern Sea, and a Strait or passage from it into the Western Sea’.

  This assumption led to Cook, Banks and Solander going ashore as often as possible to climb other hills in the hope of gaining different perspectives on what they were increasingly confident was a strait; all three men were almost certain that they were now on a separate large island from the one on which Endeavour had landed after sailing in from Otaheite. Unfortunately, sometimes due to ‘impenetrable woods’, they were unable to achieve a definitive answer – although, an animated conversation with one of the Maoris they came upon strongly supported the existence of a strait. Cook decided that the only way to prove the point was to sail Endeavour to the east from what he would name Queen Charlotte Sound, in honour of the wife of King George III. The bay where the ship was careened was placed on the captain’s chart as Ship Cove, and the strait they were about to discover would, at Banks’ insistence, become Cook Strait.

  Over the next few days, the wind was uncooperative – too little or too much – so Endeavour remained at anchor until 6 February. Then, despite there being only a faint breeze that day, Cook decided they could wait no longer: the anchor was hove up, and the ship was warped out of the bay, then put under sail.

  It became obvious that this water was indeed a strait, but any pleasure that came with the discovery quickly evaporated. A strong tidal current was carrying Endeavour at 4–5 knots towards a cluster of rocks off Arapawa Island, and because there was little wind to fill the sails, she could not be steered clear. The only hope for avoiding shipwreck was to get the best bower released and lowered as quickly as possible – but the ship was in 75 fathoms of water, and at that depth the anchor might never hold … By the time it had hit the bottom and taken a bite, an incredible 150 fathoms’ worth of cable had been released.

  While this was happening, the officers on the quarterdeck could only watch anxiously as the gap between the ship and misfortune continued to close at a rapid rate. All ears were trained on the crewman assigned to taking a transit with a feature onshore, hoping for his call announcing that the ship’s run had been halted … The call came when Endeavour was just 300 yards from the rocks.

  Cook had to accept that they had ‘narrowly escaped being dashed against the Rocks’ because of a last-minute change in the direction of the current. Once the situation on board had stabilised, with the current continuing to hold Endeavour a safe distance from the threat (which he named The Brothers soon afterwards), it was time to hove the anchor back aboard: a near back-breaking task that took three hours!

  While scanning the horizon, Cook observed a headland in the distance to the north-east – a craggy ridge rising from the water. Because of its prominence, he named it Cape Palliser, in honour of his great mentor, Sir Hugh. This headland would soon be recognised as the southernmost point of New Zealand’s North Island, and the eastern entrance to Cook Strait.

  At this point, the intention was to turn south-west, and discover where the coastline would take them, but when Endeavour took up this new course, considerable debate developed on the quarterdeck as to whether or not there was land beyond the horizon astern of the ship. Speculation centred on the possibility of there being an isthmus extending to the south-east from the last remaining portion of uncharted coastline on the northernmost of the two main islands, between Cape Palliser and Cape Turnagain to the north. Cook saw only one way to resolve the issue: he abandoned his plans to head to the south-west, instead opting to sail around Palliser until either Turnagain was reached or their direct course was interrupted by a dramatic, eastward change in the direction of the coast.

  Having long cleared Cape Palliser, hazy conditions prevailed until 9 February, when Endeavour was just 20 nautical miles south of her target. Once the weather cleared and the lookout at the masthead declared that he could see Cape Turnagain, another piece of the puzzle had been solved. Cook wrote of the moment: ‘I then called the officers upon the deck and asked them if they were now satisfied that this land was an Island to which they answered in the affirmative …’

  Endeavour was tacked and set on a course to the south-west, so that the exploration of the eastern coast of the separate landmass to the south could begin. Two weeks later, Cook had the ship edging back towards land while she made between 6 and 7 knots riding the front of a fresh northerly gale. The exhilaration of making such progress was quickly dampened, however, when a southerly squall proved to be too much for the main topgallant mast and the fore topmast studding-sail boom, bending both timber spars beyond their limit until the sound of splintering wood and flogging canvas filled the air. Crewmen – the majority barefoot, as was usually the case – scampered hand-over-hand up the ratlines like monkeys, in response to orders shouted from below: the spars had to first be contained to prevent any further damage aloft, then lowered to the deck. Much to Cook’s delight, the ever-efficient carpenters aboard the ship set about their task and had the broken mast and spar ‘soon replaced by others’.

  By now, Endeavour had sailed 300 nautical miles down the east coast of this southern island and was off a barren and foreboding headland that Cook named Cape Saunders. Two elements were curtailing any desire the crew may have held to go ashore: the wild weather that was prevailing, and the generally inhospitable nature of the coastline they were observing. This caused Cook little concern, though, because he held a ‘fear of losing time and the desire I had of pushing to the southward in order to see as much of the coast as possible, or if this land should prove to be an island to get around it’. It turned out to be a wise decision as, had he taken Endeavour too close to the coast over the next couple of days, she would have been trapped by a savage gale, which struck virtually unannounced.

  This change in the weather forced him to sail to the south-east for almost two weeks, and by the time he managed to struggle his way back towards the shore, Endeavour was off the desolate and uninviting southern tip of the landmass. It was here, on 9 March, that they were again lucky to escape being wrecked.

  At 4 a.m. Sounded, and had 60 fathoms; at daylight we discovered under our lee bow Ledges of Rocks, on which the Sea broke very high … The wind being at North-West we could not weather [clear] the Ledge, and as I did not care to run to leeward, we tacked and made a Trip to the Eastward; but the wind soon after coming to the North enabled us to go clear of all … These rocks are not the only dangers that lay here, for about 3 Leagues to the Northward of them is another Ledge of Rocks … whereon the Sea broke very high. As we pas
sed these rocks in the night at no great distance, and discovered the others close … at daylight, it is apparent that we had a very fortunate Escape. I have named them the Traps, because they lay as such to catch unweary Strangers …

  These were challenging and dangerous waters on the fringe of the Southern Ocean. It was not surprising therefore that the captain’s convincing theory that they were now at the southern extremity of this land caused a feeling of great relief to prevail among the crew. Cook explained in his journal entry of 10 March: ‘I began now to think that this was the southernmost land and that we should be able to get round it by the west, for we have had a large hollow swell from the southwest ever since we had the gale of wind from that quarter which makes me think that there is no land in that direction …’

  That same day, the captain decided to make a dramatic turn to the north with the intention of returning to the coast and resuming his exploration. What he did not realise was that the mass of land he had sighted five days earlier, whose southernmost point he had named South Cape, was actually a large island, now known as Stewart Island.