Cook

by Rob Mundle

  As Endeavour made her way to the west-north-west, the captain was still not certain they were free of the threats of shoals and reefs, so an attitude of prudent seamanship remained. The master was still out in a boat sounding the depths; the lookout remained highly vigilant, and the ship lay at anchor during the hours of darkness.

  At night, Cook often sat at his desk and worked under the flickering light of a lantern, updating his notes relating to the voyage. At this juncture, with his exploration of the east coast of New Holland completed, he penned a report titled Account of the New Wales Coast. It included a most remarkable and absorbing judgement of the indigenous people:

  From what I have said of the Natives of New Holland they may appear to some to be the most wretched People upon Earth; but in reality they are far more happier than we Europeans, being wholly unacquainted not only with the Superfluous, but the necessary Conveniences so much sought after in Europe; they are happy in not knowing the use of them. They live in a Tranquillity which is not disturbed by the Inequality of Condition. The earth and Sea of their own accord furnishes them with all things necessary for Life. They covet not Magnificent Houses, Household-stuff, etc.; they live in a Warm and fine Climate, and enjoy a very wholesome Air, so that they have very little need of Clothing; and this they seem to be fully sensible of, for many to whom we gave Cloth, etc to, left it carelessly upon the Sea beach and in the Woods, as a thing they had no manner of use for; in short, they seemed to set no Value upon anything we gave them, nor would they ever part with anything of their own for any one Article we could offer them. This, in my opinion, Argues that they think themselves provided with all the necessarys of Life, and that they have no Superfluities …

  It was hoped that the remainder of the passage to Batavia would be free of drama, but that was not to be the case. On the morning of 24 August, while the best bower was being raised, the large swell that was running put such a shock-load on the bower cable that the rope parted, dropping its heavy load. The anchor was the most vital piece of equipment with regard to the safety of the vessel; it was something that the ship simply could not be without. And bowers were impossible to replace on a voyage such as this, or manufacture on board.

  The second bower was released as soon as the crew became aware of problem. The lost anchor now lay in 8 fathoms of water, and Cook had no option but to do everything in his power to recover it. Once the situation on board was stabilised, he had two boats go out and sweep the bottom with a hawser suspended between them. This attempt was unsuccessful, so the ship remained at anchor there for another night. The following morning, the first sweep with the hawser snagged on the bower and it was then hauled to the surface.

  Endeavour then continued sailing to the north-west, towards the coast of New Guinea. This was a time when every man could have been forgiven for thinking that they were about to experience deep water, and freedom from the danger-laden days they had endured in recent months. But again it was not to be the case. As recorded by Cook, one last, menacing threat to their security lay in wait: ‘Sunday, 26th … the boat which was ahead made the signal for Shoal Water, immediately upon which we let go an Anchor, and brought the Ship up with the sails standing … and at the same time we saw from the Ship Shoal Water in a manner all round us … [and] there was no way to get clear but the way we came.’

  His journal confirmed that he saw this as yet another amazing escape from shipwreck, one in which only alertness and a prompt reaction had saved the day. He noted that, had it not been high tide, Endeavour would have struck the rocky bottom. If that had happened, the pounding of her hull on the seabed, caused by the surge of the sea that was running at the time, would have ‘bulged’ her – that is, caused planks to be sprung and the ship to take on water at a rapid rate.

  Because of this situation, Cook abandoned his plans to land on the mainland coast of New Guinea. Instead, he called for Endeavour to sail on a course to the west, so that the strong easterly wind that was blowing would propel her away from the shoals they continued to encounter. This would prove to be a day of perfect downwind sailing, when the driver – a square sail set on a yard that is hoisted to the peak of the gaff on the mizzen mast – could be hoisted and trimmed to suit the breeze.

  Banks at this time was busy writing a report in his journal – filling page after page with a 10,700-word commentary relating to his experiences and observations while sailing the coast of New Holland. When his daily journal resumed on 1 September, the ship was heading towards Frederick Hendrik Island, on the southwestern coast of New Guinea, where they stopped two days later. An excursion ashore, led by Cook, Banks and Solander, proved little different from what they had experienced so often in New Zealand and at times along the coast of New Holland: when they landed, natives appeared and made threats; the Englishmen fired their muskets and the natives retreated. On this landing, they were met by three natives, who took umbrage at the presence of the foreigners, but after the New Guineans retreated into the woods, they returned to the beach with around 100 armed warriors. As Banks later explained, that was enough: he and his compatriots were now tired of dealing with such confrontations. ‘[We] immediately concluded that nothing was to be got here but by force,’ the naturalist wrote, ‘which would of course be attended with destruction of many of these poor people, whose territories we had certainly no right to invade either as discoverers or people in real want of provisions; we therefore resolved to go into our boat and leave entirely this coast …’

  Following the abortive excursion, Banks described a new condition that had only recently struck the crew:

  As soon as ever the boat was hoisted in we made sail and steered away from this land to the No small satisfaction of I believe three fourths of our company: the sick became well and the melancholy looked gay. The greatest part of them were now pretty far gone with the longing for home which the Physicians have gone so far as to esteem a disease under the name of Nostalgia; indeed I can find hardly anybody in the ship clear of its effects but the Captain, Dr Solander and myself. Indeed, we three have pretty constant employment for our minds which I believe to be the best if not the only remedy for it …

  As difficult to comprehend as it might have been for most of the men aboard the ship, at this stage of their circumnavigation, they were only just beyond half-distance on the long journey home. In reality, the latter half of the voyage would be considerably quicker, as no more exploration was required under the Admiralty’s orders.

  While the stopover in Batavia was essential for the replenishment of supplies, there was also a growing need for the ship to be overhauled. Not surprisingly, after such an arduous voyage of, to date, some 25,000 nautical miles – more than the circumference of the Earth – Endeavour’s bones were getting tired. She was leaky, metal fittings were failing, rigging was worn, and she would probably need to be careened for cleaning below the waterline. Additionally, the crew were getting restless: they wanted to be on land, and as a result there was pressure on the captain to change his plans and stop at Fort Concordia (in present-day Kupang, on the island of Timor), which was considerably closer.

  ‘I was strongly importuned by some of my Officers to go to the Dutch settlement at Concordia for refreshments,’ Cook wrote in his journal, ‘but this I refused to comply with, knowing that the Dutch look upon all Europeans with a Jealous Eye that come among these Islands, and our necessities were not so great as to oblige me to put into a place where I might expect to be but indifferently treated.’

  His theory was put to the test when he did decide to stop, at the island of Savu, 100 nautical miles to the west of Timor. Cook had the ship anchored and sent Lieutenant Gore and others ashore to ask if they could procure provisions there. After two days of effort, Gore was finally advised by the ‘king’ for that part of the island that he could supply nothing unless it was authorised by the Dutch governor. That same day, at 2 pm, the governor and this self-styled monarch went aboard Endeavour with Gore, who was ordered to leave two crewmen ashore
as hostages. Cook later described the visit:

  We entertained them at Dinner in the best Manner we could, gave them plenty of good Liquor, made them some considerable presents, and at their going away Saluted them with 9 Guns. In return for these favours they made many fair Promises that we should be immediately supplied with everything we wanted at the same price the Dutch East India Company had it; and that in the morning Buffaloes, Hogs, Sheep, etc., should be down on the beach for us to look at, and agree upon a price.

  However, possibly due to an overindulgence of alcohol by the guests, none of these promises were honoured the following morning. There was no livestock or produce to be seen.

  Relations between the two sides then became increasingly strained, but persistence paid off. And this was despite the visitors receiving formal advice that they would be allowed to remain on the island for only one more day, and in that time they had to complete all their purchases. This they did, as Banks recounted:

  The refreshments we got consisted of 8 Buffaloes, 30 Dozen fowls, 6 sheep, 3 hogs, some few but very few limes and cocoa nuts, a little garlic, a good many eggs, above half of which were rotten, an immense quantity of Syrup [marmalade] which was bought for trifles, several hundred gallons at least – upon the whole, enough stock to carry us to Batavia, and syrup for futurity …

  Endeavour set sail for Batavia soon afterwards, with a captain whose attitude towards dealing with the Dutch remained unchanged.

  It was then a frustrating five-week passage to Batavia, due to headwinds, calms and navigation charts for the region that the forever-meticulous ship’s captain found to be horribly inaccurate. On 21 September, from a position well offshore, the ship rounded Java Head – now known as Tanjung Layar, the westernmost promontory on the island where Jakarta is located. There was then only 130 nautical miles to cover before they reached their destination on the north-western coast of Java, and Cook knew it could not come soon enough. One of his main concerns was the rapidly deteriorating condition of the sails, something that was confirmed for him yet again when he tacked the ship onto a course that would clear the cape by a comfortable margin: ‘very unsettled squally weather which split the Main Topsail 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 …’

  Nine exasperating days passed before Endeavour finally reached Batavia, because of strong adverse currents and fickle winds – conditions that caused the anchor to be hove fifteen times to prevent the loss of hard-gained ground. Once in port, the priority became the condition of the ship, and the carpenter, Satterley, promptly presented a report on the defects he had found. He described the overall condition of the hull as ‘very leaky’, and she was taking on a considerable amount of water throughout the bilge: up to 1 foot every hour. On considering Satterley’s report, Cook and his officers concurred that there was a need for a complete overhaul of much of the vessel before she could be sailed to Europe.

  Two days after arriving, and while plans were being put in place for repairs, it became clear to the captain and his entire crew that, had the lightning chain not been fitted to the ship prior to their leaving home two-and-a-half years earlier, they might have been spending much more time in Batavia than planned.

  About 9 o’clock in the Evening we had much rain, with some very heavy Claps of Thunder, one of which carried away a Dutch Indiaman’s Main Mast by the Deck, and split it, the Main topmast and Topgallant mast all to shivers. The ship lay about 2 Cables lengths from us, and we were struck with the Thunder [lightning] at the same time, and in all probability we should have shared the same fate as the Dutchman, had it not been for the Electrical Chain which we had but just before [hoisted to the masthead]. This carried the Lightning or Electrical matter over the side clear of the Ship. The Shock was so great as to shake the whole ship very sensibly …

  Batavia presented Cook with the first opportunity to comply with another of his orders – to forward a copy of his journal to the Admiralty at the first practicable opportunity. He put it aboard a Dutch ship that was heading for Europe, and sent with it a covering letter outlining his achievements to date, which the Admiralty would no doubt have found to be richly rewarding. It read in part:

  … we discovered the East Coast of New Zealand, which I found to consist of 2 large Islands … both of which I circumnavigated. On the 1st of April, 1770, I quitted New Zealand, and steered to the Westward, until I fell in with the East Coast of New Holland, in the Latitude of 38 degrees South. I coasted the shore of this Country to the North, putting in at such places as I saw Convenient, until we arrived in the Latitude of 15 degrees 45 minutes South, where, on the night of the 10th of June, we struck upon a Reef of Rocks, where we lay 23 Hours, and received some very considerable damage. We were detained repairing the damage we had sustained until the 4th of August, and after all [that] put to Sea with a leaky Ship, and afterwards coasted the Shore to the Northward through the most dangerous Navigation that perhaps ever a ship was in, until the 22nd of the same month, when, being in the Latitude of 10 degrees 30 minutes South, we found a Passage into the Indian Sea between the Northern extremity of New Holland and New Guinea …

  Unassuming individual that he was, Cook could look back on this voyage with great pride. He had exceeded the demands of his orders, placed a spectacular new coastline on the map of the world, and managed to keep the incidence of scurvy among his crew down to a level that was unprecedented. But fate was about to take an undesired twist, bringing a sad series of events to the final stage of his circumnavigation. The first hint of what was to follow came on Friday, 26 October, when his journal read: ‘Set up the Ship’s Tent for the reception of the Ship’s Company, several of them begin to be taken ill, owing, as I suppose, to the extreme hot weather.’

  Banks provided more details: ‘We now began to feel the ill Effects of the unwholesome climate we were in: our appetites and spirits were gone but none were yet really sick, except poor Tupia and Tiata, both of which grew worse and worse daily so that I began once more to despair of poor Tupia’s life …’

  Work had already started on repairing Endeavour, but as each day passed, more men were falling ill. The cause was a curse that came with this steamy, rain-sodden environment: dysentery. With the ship destined to be in port for another ten weeks, the disease would prove to be a death sentence for many of Endeavour’s crew, all of whom had survived after being taken to the threshold of tragedy so many times during this voyage. The first death came on 7 November, and ironically it was the surgeon who was the first to succumb, as Cook recorded: ‘We had the misfortune to lose Mr Monkhouse, the Surgeon, who died of a Fever after a short illness, of which disease and others several of our people are daily taken ill, which will make his loss be the more severely felt …’

  On 27 December, close to three months after docking at Batavia, Endeavour’s repairs were finished and she was ready to put to sea. By then this destination, which had been so ardently desired prior to arrival, had become a curse. Apart from the surgeon, both Tupia and Tiata had died from the disease, as had one of the servants, John Reynolds, and three seamen. Dysentery was carving its way through those on board like a scythe: at times barely a dozen men were well enough to work at their assigned tasks. Banks and Solander were among those struck down by the disease. At no stage, however, is there any reference to the captain falling seriously ill.

  Not even Christmas Day could raise any sense of enthusiasm from the men. But the following day, when the time arrived for the anchor to be weighed so that Endeavour could move away from the port, Banks wrote of a new-found energy among the crew: ‘There was not, I believe, a man in the ship but gave his utmost aid to getting up the Anchor, so completely tired was every one of the unwholesome air of this place. We had buried here 8 people … in general, however, the Crew was in rather better health than they had been a fortnight before …’

  Unfortunately, though, when Endeavour did finally depart, she took the disease with her
, and this circumstance, coupled with the sweltering and steamy heat of the monsoon season, kept the ship’s sick list at a disconcertingly long length. There was little that could be done to assist those most afflicted, so much so that by halfway through the voyage to Cape Town, twenty-two men were dead, their bodies having been buried at sea. This included Banks’ assistant naturalist, Herman Spöring, astronomer Charles Green, two of the three midshipmen, the bosun and one of the carpenters.

  Cook’s journal entry for 31 January 1771, painted a dire picture:

  In the course of this 24 Hours we have had 4 men died of the Flux [dysentery], viz., John Thompson, Ship’s Cook; Benjamin Jordan, Carpenter’s Mate; James Nicholson and Archibald Wolf, Seamen; a melancholy proof of the calamitous situation we are at present in, having hardly well men enough to tend the Sails and look after the Sick, many of whom are so ill that we have not the least hopes of their recovery …

  The captain lamented: ‘a Man was no sooner taken with [the disease] than he looked upon himself as Dead. Such was the Despondency that reigned among the Sick at this time, nor could it be by any Means prevented.’

  When Endeavour arrived off Cape Town on 15 March, Cook arranged for twenty-eight of the sick to be transferred ashore for treatment. The ship remained in port a month while everything was done to save the men, but still they continued to die.