by Rob Mundle
This rather underplayed the proximity of the vessels to one another, as Resolution’s resident astronomer, William Wales, noted: ‘the two Ships riding alongside of each other so near that a tolerable Plank would have reached from her Gunnel to ours.’
Now there was a danger that the surge of a wave could well thump Resolution, in particular, onto the coral reef and cause her hull planks to open up. Cook’s crew worked relentlessly towards trying to save their ship, a task made even more demanding by the temperature having already hit a stifling and sticky 95 degrees Fahrenheit. Cook wrote of the strategy that he and his senior officers implemented: ‘[We] carried out a Kedge Anchor and a hawser and the Coasting Anchor … by heaving upon these and cutting away the Bower Anchor we saved the Ship.’ As was so often the case in such situations, the greatest boon came with a change in the strength and direction of the tidal current. Soon it was strong enough to give Resolution an offing of some 2 miles from the reef.
Cook then had the boats go to the assistance of Adventure, but as they did, a light offshore breeze developed, sufficient to fill her sails and get her moving away from the reef. Reflecting the desperate nature of their escape, Furneaux had had no option but to cut away the bowers that had been holding the ship while on the edge of the reef. His journal read: ‘got under sail with the land wind, leaving behind her three anchors, her coasting Cable and two Hawsers …’
Anders Sparrman, a botanist aboard Resolution, was greatly impressed by how Cook and his crew dealt with their desperate moment, particularly ‘the celerity [speed] and the lack of confusion with which each command was executed to save the ship … I should have preferred, however, to hear fewer “Goddamns” from the officers and particularly the Captain, who, while the danger lasted, stamped about the deck and grew hoarse with shouting.’ That shouting led to Cook’s voice beginning to fail, so Sparrman suggested that the captain might use a ‘speaking-trumpet’, which the captain did, and that he should also distribute them to ‘those officers who appeared to me most efficient in handling the vessel’. The botanist’s account continued:
They thanked me for my idea which … was the only active part I played on the operations … As soon as the ship was once more afloat, I went down to the Ward Room with Captain Cook who, although he had from beginning to end of the incident appeared perfectly alert and able, was suffering so greatly from his stomach that he was in a great sweat and could scarcely stand.
Cook was no doubt exhausted, both mentally and physically, and it was Sparrman who came to his assistance again, with ‘an old Swedish remedy’ – a solid swig of brandy. And it worked: ‘His aches vanished immediately, his fatigue a few minutes later and, after a good meal, we soon regained our accustomed energy.’
Both ships were then forced to spend another night at sea, one that saw everyone on high alert as it was laced with heavy tropical rain and squalls. They sailed short tacks in deep water until first light, when they were able to negotiate a safe passage through a gap in the reef. They then anchored in a lee that provided good protection from the constant pulse of the south-easterly trade wind.
On two occasions, when the ships were riding securely at anchor inside the reef, Cook ordered a couple of launches and Resolution’s cutter, commanded by the master, Joseph Gilbert, to put to sea and try to recover the abandoned anchors. The salvage teams were able to retrieve Resolution’s bower but could not locate any of Adventure’s. They would remain lost to the depths until 1978, when an American expedition found and salvaged two of her anchors.
While at this anchorage, there was also the need for a burial at sea. Isaac Taylor, a marine, died from a ‘consumptive disorder’, which had plagued him since departing England. As was always the case when a man died, his body was sewn into a canvas hammock or old sail, which was then weighted with cannonballs or other heavy objects. One of the ship’s boats then carried Taylor’s body out beyond the reef, where, in keeping with Royal Navy tradition, it was consigned to the deep, feet first.
Their stay in the south of Otaheite lasted just a week – sufficient time for the sick men aboard Adventure to be heading back to good health through rest and a diet of fresh local foods, especially fruits and meat. They were then strong enough to cope with the remaining 30-nautical-mile coastal passage to Matavai Bay. The stopover was also long enough for the captain to reacquaint himself with the customs and lifestyle of the islanders, as well as recognising the changes that had come as a consequence of their contact with Europeans, particularly their use of tools made from iron to shape their canoes. One thing that had not altered was the penchant of the Tahitian men, in particular, to be light-fingered. It was a timely reminder of what the sailors should be prepared for when they reached Matavai Bay.
On 24 August, the two ships were readied to put to sea and sail north. Although light airs made it a slow 48-hour passage, the reception that the Englishmen received after rounding Point Venus and sailing into the anchorage made everything worthwhile. The islanders were overjoyed to know that the great man, Cook, had returned after an absence of four years.
The day after arriving, the commander and Furneaux sailed a short distance along the coast in the pinnace to meet with the king, named Otoo, or Tu for short. The latter, a strapping young man, some 6 feet 3 inches in height, was initially ‘mataou’d’ (frightened) of the ships’ guns and therefore somewhat apprehensive of their arrival, but he soon made the visitors most welcome. Cook was to learn that the structure of the island’s social hierarchy had changed significantly since he was last there: many chiefs had died in battles between opposing tribal groups. One of Tu’s first questions for the newcomers concerned the whereabouts of Tupia, and here Cook had the unfortunate task of informing him that the former chief and priest had died, along with many of his own men, before reaching England.
Cook found this young king to be more difficult than the chiefs he had encountered during his 1769 visit to the island. But Tu liked gifts, and the sound of bagpipes, so Cook obliged. On 28 August, as the captain explained, he ‘entertained him [Tu] with the Bag-pipes of which musick he was very fond, and dancing by the Seamen’.
There was no reason to stay in Tahiti any longer than necessary on this visit, so, as the captain reported: ‘The sick being all pretty well recovered, our water casks repaired and filled and the necessary repairs of the Sloops completed [I] determined to put to sea without Loss of time.’ On Wednesday, 1 September, just six days after their arrival, his men pulled down the tents that had been set up on the beach to accommodate the sick, and the fabric observatory that Wales had erected on nearby Point Venus. At 3 pm that day, the wind, most fortuitously, swung to the easterly sector, making the situation ideal for weighing anchor and setting sail.
The eventual destination on this stage of the voyage was again Queen Charlotte Sound, but there was some island-hopping to be done beforehand: starting with Huaheine, just 100 nautical miles to the north-east. Once there, Resolution was successfully navigated through a narrow channel and into a lagoon, but Adventure was not so fortunate. She was caught in stays (that is, the ship failed to complete a tack), and then, having lost all speed, she drifted sideways onto the reef. Showing considerable foresight, Cook had taken a precautionary measure. On realising how difficult the entry had been for Resolution, he already had his ship’s launch hoisted out and manned in case Adventure should need assistance. Fortunately for the mission’s support vessel, there was not a large swell running, and once the men aboard the launch had positioned her anchors adequately, Furneaux was able to orchestrate a manoeuvre that hauled her back into deep water without any damage to the hull.
Huaheine supplied the provisions of food that could not be procured in Matavai Bay and it also brought a level of embarrassment for a particular member of the expedition team – all because the islanders took a liking to the visitors’ clothing. ‘Mr Sparrman, being out alone botanizing,’ Cook penned in his journal, ‘was set upon by two men who stripped him of everything he had but his T
rowsers, they struck him several times with his own hanger [sword] but happily did him no harm … a man … gave him a piece of cloth to cover himself and conducted him to me.’
In the meantime, Pickersgill, whom the captain had commissioned to purchase the required provisions, had secured some 400 hogs and all the fruit and vegetables they required. Just before the Englishmen left Huaheine, some of the more prominent members of the local community put a proposition to Cook: that he take his ships and attack their principal enemies, the men of nearby Bora Bora, on their behalf. These islanders were described by Midshipman John Elliott as ‘the finest race of Men, and the greatest warriors’. This fact did not concern Cook, who simply declined the request.
The two ships then sailed a mere 26 nautical miles to the west, to the island now known as Raiatea. Once there, Pickersgill was assigned another task: to find enough food for the 400 hogs. This he did by taking two of the ship’s small boats and a party of marines to a nearby island, where they spent the night. Securing the food was easy compared with trying to reassemble the soldiers, however. ‘When the morning came,’ wrote Pickersgill, ‘I got up by times for to get away as early as possible, but enquiring for the people, I found most of them absent and on further examination, found them one in one house and one in another all straggled about the Woods, each man with his Mistress.’
By 18 September 1773, Cook had completed his sweep through this small and supremely beautiful group of islands and was heading west once more, with a change of plan. He had abandoned his desire to sail directly to New Zealand from this region. Instead, as he explained, the quest would continue: ‘I directed my Course to the West inclining to the South as well to avoid the tracks of former Navigators as to get into the Latitude of Amsterdam Island discovered by Tasman in 1643, my intention being to run as far west as that Island …’
Three days later, he discovered a trio of small islands, which he initially named the Sandwich Islands in honour of Lord Sandwich. Subsequently, though, he retitled them Herveys Islands, ‘in honour of Captain Hervey of the Navy and one of the Lords of the Admiralty’.
Cook now had his men sailing in full exploration mode – on high alert. The majority of this territory was uncharted so there was every chance that they could stumble across an unknown reef or atoll at any time. This continued for the remainder of September until the ships reached the Tongan group of islands, before anchoring at Middleburg Island, a short distance to the south-east of Amsterdam Island. The sailors were stunned by the beauty of this South Pacific paradise, which the second lieutenant aboard Adventure, James Burney, described as being as ‘beautiful as can be imagined – equal to any landscape I ever saw’. As a downside, though, the islanders here were ‘people friendly & well disposed but great Thieves on which account we had some quarrels with them’.
Nevertheless, the visitors were welcomed wholeheartedly on Middleburg Island. Within a matter of hours, there was a large reception for them, during which the sailors entertained their hosts by playing the bagpipes – a source of immense intrigue to the locals. Cook sampled the local liquor, kava, which was made by a crude and most unhygienic method: men would chew the root of the kava plant, spit the pulp into a wooden bowl, add cold water, then drink the concoction as quickly as possible. It is a debilitating fluid when consumed in its rawest state, making most of the body’s appendages go numb.
The overall beauty of this region had the naturalists and artists marvelling at an environment they could never have imagined. Less welcome, the thieving here was also unlike anything previously experienced. When William Wales went ashore, he was welcomed by a crowd of between 400 and 500 exuberant natives. The longboat could not be beached because the water was too shallow, so Wales removed his leather shoes and waded to the beach. Once there, he placed the shoes between his feet to protect them, but that was not good enough. In a flash, they were gone: ‘they were instantly snatched away by a Person behind me. I turned round & just saw him mixing with the Crowd but it was in vain for me to attempt following him bare-footed over such sharp coral rocks, as the shores are composed of.’ The captain later negotiated for the recovery of the astronomer’s footwear.
One theft could have had a significant impact on the recording of the voyage to date, and again, Wales was involved. It happened after he decided to stay on the ship while the officers and his colleagues in the research group went ashore. During the afternoon, one of the natives who was on board was ‘discovered coming out at the scuttle of the Master’s Cabin, out of which he had taken [the master’s] and the Ship’s Log books, his Daily assistant, Nautical Almanack & some other Books’, according to Wales’ report. Crewmen on deck immediately took up their muskets and fired at the man and his accomplices, who then ‘threw the books overboard & all jumped after them. The Books were all picked up & the canoe [in which the men had arrived at the ship] filled & sunk alongside …’
On Friday, 8 October, the perfect circumstances existed in the form of a pleasant easterly breeze, so Cook signalled that it was time to depart. His intention was to sail directly to New Zealand, a passage of around 1200 nautical miles that would take about twelve days to complete.
Soon after sunrise on 21 October, the east coast of New Zealand’s North Island was sighted, and before long the captain had it plotted as being Table Cape, around 200 nautical miles to the north of Cape Palliser at the eastern entrance to Cook Strait. The following day, the ships were beginning to feel the full force of a westerly gale, the persistence of which had dramatic consequences. The first drama came aboard Resolution when a savage squall sent the fore topgallant mast spearing towards the deck, and soon after this, sails began to blow apart. It was a nightmarish time for all on deck, but particularly for those who were then sent aloft to man the yards and retrieve the broken mast.
The ships plugged on to the south under greatly reduced sail. On the 25th, Cook made a journal entry that put the conditions into perspective. He wrote that the storm ‘came on in such fury as to oblige us to take in all our sails with the utmost expedition and to lay-to under our bare poles … The sea rose in proportion with the Wind so that we not only had a furious gale but a mountainous Sea also to encounter.’
On 26 October – the day before his forty-fifth birthday – when sailing near Cook Strait, the men aboard Resolution lost visual contact with the support vessel, which was being blown away to leeward from the coast. Adventure was sighted again the next day as a speck on the horizon to the south. By now, Cook Strait was living up to the reputation it holds today as being a cauldron for gales, and because of this, as Burney would note aboard Adventure, ‘The 29th at Night we lost Sight of her [Resolution] the third Time. After this we never had the good fortune to meet her again.’
On 2 November, Resolution was battling a fresh southerly gale in Cook Strait, but still the captain was confident that they would reach Queen Charlotte Sound on the next flood tide. ‘Vain were our expectations,’ he wrote, adding that the next day, ‘we discovered a new inlet which had all the appearance of a good harbour …’ His hope now was to reach this inlet – Wellington Harbour, as it would be named, after the hero of Waterloo – and anchor in its confines. But the turn of the tide brought a reversion to the original plan. Ship Cove was again their destination, and they reached there on 3 November.
Cook fully expected Adventure to be waiting in the cove for them, but she wasn’t. It was a situation that would lead to one of the worst imaginable outcomes.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Close Calls and an Atrocity
After a few days had passed, Cook and his men were becoming increasingly anxious regarding the whereabouts of Adventure. The captain knew that his support ship did not possess the same capabilities as Resolution when sailing upwind in extreme conditions, as had prevailed for much of the time prior to reaching Queen Charlotte Sound, but even allowing for that, Adventure was well overdue. On 10 November, Clerke wrote: ‘We’re all much surprised that our Consort, the Adventure, does not make her
appearance nor are we able to form any idea what can have detained Her so long.’
In the meantime, Resolution’s crew carried out extensive maintenance on all parts of the ship, including overhauling the rig, caulking hull and deck planks, and ‘boot topping’ – scrubbing marine growth from around the ship’s waterline over her entire length. There was considerable disappointment for all when more than 4000 pounds of bread was found to be mouldy and rotten, as a result of the storage casks having been made from green (not dried) timber, and the high humidity that had been experienced in the tropics. Also, with galley duties having used up much of the coal placed as ballast in the ship’s bilge, Cook ordered that two launch-loads of ballast, in the form of rocks and shingle, be taken aboard and stored in the main hold. It was vitally important that the ship have maximum stability for the coming voyage, which would see her returning to Antarctic waters.
With each new day, concern for the safety of Adventure and her crew grew, as reflected in an entry in Cook’s journal:
I went in the Pinnace over to the East Bay, accompanied by some of the officers and gentlemen; as soon as we landed we went upon one of the hills in order to take a view of the Straits to see if we could discover anything of the Adventure, we had a fatiguing walk to little purpose for when we got to the top of the hill we found the Eastern horizon so foggy that we could not see above two or three miles.