by Rob Mundle
Later, through patient observation using his telescope, and the eagle eye of the lookout, Cook was finally able to mark the existence of a bay. He wrote the name ‘Bateman Bay’ alongside it on his chart as a tribute to Nathaniel Bateman, captain of Northumberland when he served as master.
On 22 April, Endeavour was still tracing the shoreline but making very little headway in a near calm. The coast was now enveloped by heavy rain-bearing clouds of dreary grey, and the ship was being rolled in a gentle manner by the motion of the large ocean swell. Each sway from side to side was accompanied by a loud, thumping sound as the sails were turned inside out. It was a frustrating time for all. At noon, having tired of this uncomfortable experience, the captain called for the crew to wear ship and sail offshore. That brought a much-preferred change of wind angle: the sails filled, in what little breeze there was, and the ship was moving. Endeavour sailed on into the night, covering almost 30 miles before wearing again and taking up a near reciprocal course towards land.
A full day had passed by the time the coast finally hove into view, and with the weather having cleared, there was much to see. Pickersgill wrote of one standout feature, about 10 miles inland to the north-west, which he described as ‘a remarkable peaked hill with a tuft of trees on this resembling the top of a Pidgeon house’. To no-one’s surprise, it was entered on Cook’s chart as Pidgeon House Hill.
When Endeavour had reached the coast after that night offshore, Cook was given something else to contemplate: the ship had been carried some 9 nautical miles to the south of where they expected to be. Soon afterwards, he had an explanation for this loss of ground. He and his fellow officers had just become the first known navigators to experience the powerful flow of the East Australian Current – a south-flowing stream of warm water that has its origins in the Coral Sea to the north, and has been known to run at up to 7 knots. During the weeks ahead, this same current would further frustrate Endeavour’s advance north. Another observation they made at this point was that the air continued to be much clearer here than what they were used to in the northern hemisphere.
Once back on course and heading north, the Europeans finally had their first visual contact with those responsible for the smoking campfires onshore. ‘[We] steered along shore North-North-East, having a Gentle breeze at South-West,’ Cook wrote of this momentous occasion, ‘and were so near the Shore as to distinguish several people upon the Sea beach. They appeared to be of a very dark or black Colour; but whether this was the real Colour of their skins or the Clothes they might have on I know not …’ Banks noted an apparent difference between the practices of these people and those of the Polynesians encountered earlier in the expedition: ‘Since we have been on the coast we have not observed those large fires which we so frequently saw in the Islands and New Zealand made by the Natives in order to clear the ground for cultivation; we thence concluded not much in favour of our future friends …’
The crew were being tested on many fronts as they did their best to keep the ship moving in very light airs, trying to counter the negative influence of the southerly current they were now conscious of. These exasperating conditions continued throughout 24 April, at which point they were approaching what would later become known as Jervis Bay, and for days to follow.
At one stage, when their progress was again thwarted by a lack of wind and too much adverse current, they were forced 20 nautical miles back to the south-west, and while the sailors accepted the loss in ‘northing’ as inevitable, it was a negative that soon became a positive – of sorts. Endeavour was then just south of where the city of Wollongong is sited today, on the New South Wales South Coast, and it was time to do something different, as recounted by Cook:
Saturday, 28th. In the P.M. hoisted out the Pinnace and Yawl in order to attempt a landing, but the Pinnace took in the Water so fast that she was obliged to be hoisted in again to stop her leaks. At this time we saw several people a shore, 4 of whom were carrying a small Boat or Canoe, which we imagined they were going to put in to the Water in order to Come off to us; but in this we were mistaken. Being now not above 2 Miles from the Shore Mr. Banks, Dr. Solander, Tupia, and myself put off in the Yawl, and pulled in for the land to a place where we saw 4 or 5 of the Natives, who took to the Woods as we approached the Shore; which disappointed us in the expectation we had of getting a near View of them, if not to speak to them. But our disappointment was heightened when we found that we nowhere could effect a landing by reason of the great Surf which beat everywhere upon the shore.
The following morning (28 April, ship time), the chance to sail into a safe anchorage further to the north presented itself. ‘At daylight in the morning we discovered a Bay,’ Cook wrote, ‘which appeared to be tolerably well sheltered from all winds, into which I resolved to go with the Ship, and with this View sent the Master in the Pinnace to sound the Entrance, while we kept turning up with the Ship, having the wind right out. At noon the Entrance bore North-North-West, distance 1 Mile.’
After the signal came from Molyneux, aboard the pinnace, that it was safe to proceed into the bay, Endeavour’s sails were trimmed to best utilise the south-easterly breeze on a course that was to the west. What followed in the captain’s description held echoes of their arrival in Poverty Bay in New Zealand, but not with the same level of aggression from either side.
… we stood into the bay and Anchored under the South shore about 2 miles within the Entrance in 5 fathoms, the South point bearing South-East and the North point East. Saw, as we came in, on both points of the bay, several of the Natives and a few hutts; Men, Women, and Children on the South Shore abreast of the Ship, to which place I went in the Boats in hopes of speaking with them, accompanied by Mr. Banks, Dr. Solander, and Tupia. As we approached the Shore they all made off, except 2 Men, who seemed resolved to oppose our landing.
Cook ignored the threat, as the Englishmen held the upper hand in any potential showdown. Instead, he had the men who were rowing them ashore increase their rate, in the hope that the natives would remain and he would be able to communicate with them. As the stroke rate went up, oars thumped in unison in their slots along the gunwale, and when close enough to the water’s edge, he made an effort to establish some form of dialogue.
… this was to little purpose, for neither us nor Tupia could understand one word they said. We then threw them some nails, beads, etc., ashore, which they took up, and seemed not ill pleased with, in so much that I thought that they beckoned to us to come ashore; but in this we were mistaken, for as soon as we put the boat in they again came to oppose us, upon which I fired a musket between the 2, which had no other Effect than to make them retire back, where bundles of their darts lay, and one of them took up a stone and threw at us, which caused my firing a Second Musket, loaded with small Shot; and although some of the shot struck the man, yet it had no other effect than to make him lay hold of a shield or target to defend himself.
There was nothing more they could then do but go ashore. The six men on the oars dug deep with their blades once again and began propelling the 18-foot-long pinnace towards the beach, until the stem and keelson cut a fine furrow in the sandy shallows, and they came to a gentle stop. At this moment, Cook handed a historic act to his wife’s cousin, seventeen-year-old Isaac Smith.
‘Jump out, Isaac!’ the captain called to the young lad, who was squatting in the bow of the pinnace.
With that, Smith stood up, put his foot on the gunwale, then leapt out and firmly planted his feet in the sand. In doing so, he became the first European to set foot on the east coast of the continent.
Unfortunately, as Cook noted, the welcome that followed from the indigenous people was not what had been hoped for: ‘we had no sooner [landed] than they throwed 2 darts at us; this obliged me to fire a third shot, soon after which they both made off, but not in such haste but we might have taken [captured] one; but Mr Banks being of Opinion that the darts were poisoned, made me cautious how I advanced into the Woods …’
The captain and his men began moving among the trees fringing the beach, all the time looking to make contact with the people and gain their confidence – but it was as if they had vanished. Incredibly, though, they left some small children behind in one of a few crude bark huts set among the trees, not far from the beach. Equally basic in form were the three canoes that were lying on the sand. Cook described these craft as ‘the worst I think I ever saw; they were about 12 or 14 feet long, made of one piece of the Bark of a Tree, drawn or tied up at each end, and the middle kept open by means of pieces of Sticks by way of Thwarts.’
When Banks returned to the ship that evening, the entry he made in his journal included the comment: ‘The people were blacker than any we have seen in the Voyage tho by no means negroes.’ He also left no doubt that he had seen what would become known as a boomerang, although not in use. This made him probably the first European to register the existence of the amazing aerodynamic implement.
Each of these [men] held in his hand a wooden weapon about 2½ feet long, in shape much resembling a scymeter [scimitar]; the blades of these looked whitish and some though shining so much that they [might have been] made of some kind of metal, but myself thought they were no more than wood smeared over with the same white pigment with which they paint their bodies.
Early the following morning, after he had donned his uniform, Cook stepped out of his small cabin, moved a few paces forward and climbed the steep ladder leading to the quarterdeck. Once there, he met with his senior officers and announced his plan for the day: some of the crew were to go ashore and collect wood and water, and grass for the sheep, while the pinnace would be hoisted out and manned so that he could explore, survey and chart part of the expansive bay that encircled them.
By the end of the day, the captain and his men were pleased with their achievements – except that they had again failed to get anywhere near the local people. But while that was a source of disappointment to Cook, the fishing was not:
After I had returned from sounding the Bay I went over to a Cove on the North side of the Bay, where, in 3 or 4 Hauls with the [net], we caught about 300 pounds weight of Fish, which I caused to be equally divided among the Ship’s Company. In the A.M. I went in the Pinnace to sound and explore the North side of the bay, where I neither met with inhabitants or anything remarkable …
Banks continued to create a highly detailed journal on his experiences in this bay. He was thoroughly pleased by the number of new plant species that he and Solander were taking from the shore, while at the same time being intrigued by the seemingly contradictory actions of the natives. Sometimes they were seen to be making threatening gestures with their spears, as if determined to rid their home waters of the visitors; at other times, they appeared receptive to their presence. Even so, each time the Europeans approached them, they ‘ran away into the woods before the boat was within half a mile of them, although [we] did not even go towards them’. This was completely contrary to what had been experienced in New Zealand.
Banks’ notes described flora and fauna of Australia’s natural landscape that are now iconic, including a tree that yielded ‘gum’ – the eucalypt. When it came to the fauna, the likes of which had never previously been seen, there was a need for comparisons:
[We saw] one quadruped about the size of a Rabbit. My Greyhound just got sight of him and instantly lamed himself against a stump which lay concealed in the long grass; we saw also the dung of a large animal [a kangaroo] that had fed on grass which much resembled that of a Stag; also the footsteps of an animal clawed like a dog or wolf [dingo] and as large as the latter; and of a small animal whose feet were like those of a polecat or weasel [bandicoot]. The trees over our heads abounded very much with Loryquets [lorikeets] and Cockatoos of which we shot several; both these sorts flew in flocks of several scores together …
Endeavour lay at anchor for a week in this bay, until 6 May. This was longer than Cook had planned, but with northerly winds prevailing, and his course being in that direction, he could only wait for a breeze that was more suitable for progress. At this stage, the captain and his entire crew could also reflect on the benefit of the strict dietary regimen that Cook had introduced at the time of departure from England: in the twenty months that they had been at sea, the ship had remained free of scurvy. It was a remarkable achievement in this era, one for which Cook was well worthy of high praise. Even so, there were moments of sadness, as was the case when the ship’s thirty-year-old poulterer succumbed to tuberculosis on 1 May. ‘Last night Forby Sutherland, Seaman, departed this Life,’ wrote Cook, ‘and in the A.M. his body was buried ashore at the watering place, which occasioned my calling the south point of this bay after his name.’
The delayed departure gave Cook additional time to further explore and map the bay, particularly to the south-west, and after having done so he wrote of the waterway: ‘It is capacious, safe, and Commodious.’ It would appear that he and Banks agreed that this would be a suitable location for the establishment of a settlement, should that ever be required by the government. As it turned out, Banks recommended the area to the House of Commons Committee in 1779 when they were considering suitable sites for a penal colony. This need was brought about because the prisons and the prison hulks on the Thames were full to overflowing. No doubt Cook would have supported Banks’ suggestion, if there had been opportunity to get his opinion.
Eighteen years later, when the governor-designate of the proposed penal colony of New South Wales, Captain Arthur Phillip, led the First Fleet into the same anchorage, the bay was not what he expected to find: it was nowhere near as impressive as he had been led to believe. His concerns were that the waters were too shallow, and more importantly, that there was not a supply of fresh water capable of supporting a settlement.
It was because of the abundance of stingrays in this bay and their size – the day before Endeavour set sail, Gore caught two stingrays, each one weighing near 300 pounds – that Cook chose to name the location Stingray Harbour. It would stay that way until the ship was well to the north, when, having been impressed by the ‘great quantity of New Plants’ that Banks and Solander had collected there, Cook decided to refer to it on his charts and in his records as Botany Bay. The delay regarding its eventual official name is confirmed in Banks’ journal entry for 3 June, four weeks after departure, when he wrote that he had seen ‘a small canoe fitted with an outrigger, which made us hope that the people were something improved as their boat was far preferable to the bark Canoes of Stingrays bay’.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Unknown Land, Unknown Reefs
Before sunrise on 6 May, Cook climbed the companionway ladder leading to the quarterdeck, and once there, immediately sensed a gentle offshore breeze that was wafting across the bay: perfect for getting underway. ‘Having seen everything this place afforded,’ he wrote that day, ‘we, at daylight in the morning, weighed with a light breeze at North-West, and put to Sea …’
His overview of what was the first contact by Europeans with aborigines in this part of the unknown continent, albeit contact from afar, revealed a level of disappointment:
… we could know but very little of their Customs, as we never were able to form any Connections with them; they had not so much as touched the things we had left in their Huts on purpose for them to take away. [They] do not appear to be numerous, neither do they seem to live in large bodies, but dispersed in small parties along by the Water side. Those I saw were about as tall as Europeans, of a very dark brown Colour, but not black, nor had they woolly, frizzled hair, but black and lank like ours. No sort of Cloathing or Ornaments were ever seen by any of us upon any one of them, or in or about any of their Huts; from which I conclude that they never wear any. Some that we saw had their faces and bodies painted with a sort of White Paint or Pigment …
With the best bower raised to the cathead and stowed, then the stream anchor, which had been used for added security, hauled aboard, Endeavour’s bow headed eastwards and, as sail after s
ail was hauled down and trimmed, so the ship gained speed. Before long the crew felt the first motions that came with being at sea: the high-volume apple-cheek-shaped forward sections of the vessel’s bow causing her to rise gently in response to the oncoming swell, before pressing into the shallow trough that followed.
Once well clear of the entrance, and with the leadsman confirming that there was plenty of water under the keel, the captain called for the helm to be put down and the ship turned to larboard (port). The course was then to the north, and as the turn was made, the crew responded by going to their assigned tasks, re-trimming the sails to suit the south-easterly breeze, then making fast the sheets and braces on hardwood belaying pins. In Endeavour’s wake lay tribute to the two men who had worked so diligently at their task while in the bay. The southern headland of Stingray Harbour was named Point Solander, and the northern, Cape Banks.
While all this activity was happening on deck, the three cooks had been busy below deck preparing a special meal, about which Banks reported:
The land we sailed past during the whole forenoon appeared broken and likely for harbours … We dined to day upon the stingray and his tripe: the fish itself was not quite so good as a skate nor was it much inferior, the tripe everybody thought excellent. We had with it a dish of the leaves of [wild spinach] boiled, which eat as well as spinach or very near it.