by Rob Mundle
His visit to the Admiralty was recorded by Dr Solander in a letter to Joseph Banks on 1 August. The Swedish naturalist wrote that Cook was ‘in the board-room, giving an account of himself & Co. He looks as well as ever …’
News of his safe return to England was immediately reported in newspapers such as the St James’s Chronicle. Two days later, a story in the London Chronicle read: ‘On Sunday arrived at Spithead after an agreeable voyage around the world, Captain Cook in the storeship Resolution. It is said they have discovered many islands in the South Seas that never were heard of before; the inhabitants of which appear to have plenty of everything.’
The preoccupation of the Royal Navy and the nation as a whole with Britain’s war with the American colonies – which had started in earnest three months before Resolution’s return – resulted in the voyage failing to achieve the same level of public acclaim as Endeavour’s homecoming of 1771. Nevertheless, on 9 August, Cook responded to a royal request by attending Buckingham House, where he briefed His Majesty King George III on the highlights of the expedition, presenting him with charts, maps and drawings. The King, an ardent supporter of this voyage of discovery, presented Cook with his commission as post-captain aboard the thirteen-year-old 74-gun HMS Kent. A post-captain was a naval officer who held a commission, but not the rank, as a captain, which still applied in the case of Lieutenant James Cook.
This posting lasted a matter of hours, however. The next day, much to Cook’s surprise, the Admiralty appointed him to a position of fourth captain at the Royal Hospital at Greenwich, a facility for treating sick and injured RN personnel. In effect, it was a position recognising ‘honourable service’. He was to receive £200 per annum, a residence, a daily allowance of 1 shilling and two-pence, and free ‘fire and light’. But, while this was a most satisfactory arrangement financially, the thought of being retired from the sea and pensioned off, as honourable as it might appear, did not sit comfortably with the newly created captain. He could not envisage himself being deskbound for the rest of his naval career. So he wrote to his friend Stephens, the Secretary of the Admiralty, asking that their Lordships allow him to quit that post ‘when either the call of my country for more active service or that my endeavours in any shape can be essential to the public’. They agreed to the request.
Cook’s concerns about his unexpected retirement to shore duties were evident in a letter he wrote to John Walker a few days later:
Dear Sir – As I have not now time to draw up an account of such occurrences of the voyage as I wish to communicate to you, I can only thank you for your obliging letter and kind enquiries after me in my absence. I must however tell you that the Resolution was found to answer, on all occasions, even beyond my expectations, and is so little injured by the voyage that she will soon be sent out again. But I shall not command her. My fate drives me from one extreme to another; a few months ago the whole southern hemisphere was hardly big enough for me, and now I am going to be confined within the limits of Greenwich Hospital, which are far too small for an active mind like mine. I must, however, confess it is a fine retreat and a pretty income, but whether I can bring myself to like ease and retirement, time will show. Mrs Cook joins with me in best respects to you and all your family; and believe me to be, with great esteem, Dear Sir, your most affectionate friend and humble servant – James Cook
While Cook was adjusting to an apparent life of semi-retirement, hoping he might be called on for active service in North America, he could only have looked on with increasing frustration at what was planned for others who had been part of his recent expedition. Causing him considerable angst, no doubt, was the news that his former lieutenant, Charles Clerke, was to be appointed master and commander of Resolution for her return voyage to the Pacific. Tobias Furneaux was to command another ship, for the purpose of transporting home an Otaheite islander named Omai, who had become a figure of fascination within London society since arriving in England aboard Adventure in July 1774. Following the repatriation mission, Furneaux was then to further explore the South Seas. This plan did not eventuate, however, as Furneaux was instead assigned to captain HMS Syren and sent to join the war in the colonies. He died four years later, aged forty-six.
In addition, there was a disagreement brewing between Cook and Johann Förster, who was hoping to publish the official journal relating to the voyage. Eventually, Lord Sandwich intervened: Cook would write his version based on ‘nautical observations’, and Förster from the perspective of a naturalist, with associated ‘philosophical remarks’. This decision resulted in Förster writing a snide response to Sandwich, who in turn blasted him for his attitude:
You mention a satisfaction that you have in being eased from the trouble of methodizing & clearing Captain Cook’s journal from its inaccuracies & vulgar expressions. I do not pretend to be a Critic; but I must say that I have met with very few vulgarisms or inaccuracies in that journal; but I have seen his journal misquoted, & vulgarisms introduced that were not in the Original.
Cook continued to see his world sail by – literally. Each day, as he looked through the window of his office at the hospital, he watched the passage of Royal Navy ships along the Thames, all the while wishing that he was captain of one of them. There was no denying it: he could not remove the need to be at sea from his heart now, any more than he’d been able to resist its calling as a teenager, when working in Mr Sanderson’s establishment in Staithes. At a time when he considered himself to be in his prime, Cook had become a casual observer of all things Royal Navy. Deptford dockyard, where Endeavour and Resolution had been prepared for their voyages, was only half a mile upstream, yet it was no longer part of his world.
At least he had the satisfaction of being consulted by the Navy Board regarding the choice of a suitable support vessel for Resolution’s next voyage into the South Seas. Cook suggested, once again, that they look no further than a Whitby collier. In early January 1776, the Navy Board duly purchased the eighteen-month-old 298-ton Diligence, for £1865. She was soon being refitted as a consort and re-rigged as a brig – with three masts instead of two. She was named HMS Discovery and destined to have a complement of seventy men, compared with Resolution’s 112.
Cook was never a man to propel himself into prominence: he let his achievements speak for themselves. At the same time, he was rarely one who let an opportunity pass him by. One such circumstance came early in the new year when he was invited to a lunch hosted by Lord Sandwich and attended by Sir Hugh Palliser and Philip Stephens. The captain was very much among friends, and it was equally agreeable to him that the purpose of this gathering was to discuss his thoughts on the leadership of the upcoming expedition.
Charles Clerke was now out of the running, having been arrested and imprisoned as a result of severe debts accrued by his seafaring brother, Sir John Clerke. The latter had sailed to the East Indies in 1772 owing the huge amount of £4000 – a figure that Charles, as his brother’s guarantor, could not come close to repaying.
What Sandwich, Palliser and Stephens did not realise was just how much Cook wanted to escape the drudgery of his administrative duties at the Royal Hospital – which amounted to very little – and return to the adventure and challenges of the high seas. Similarly, Cook would come to understand why he had been retired: it was thought that he had done enough, the assumption being that he would no longer want to undertake such dangerous enterprise. There is no date given for this lunch, but it quite possibly took place in late January 1776. Cook’s first biographer, Andrew Kippis, described the gathering in his book The Life of Captain James Cook, which was first published in 1788. He wrote:
That Captain Cook was of all men the best qualified for carrying it into execution was a matter that could not be called in question. But however ardently it might be wished that he would take upon himself the command of the service, no one (not even his friend and patron, Lord Sandwich himself) presumed to solicit him upon the subject. The benefits he had already conferred on science and naviga
tion, and the labours and dangers he had gone through, were so many and great, that it was not deemed reasonable to ask him to engage in fresh perils.
It was soon understood that Cook would have no part of such a hypothesis. Here, suddenly, was his opportunity to escape his recent bout of ‘land fever’.
The expedition was outlined to him in considerable detail: following a return to the South Seas, it involved a search for the Northwest Passage, the much-speculated-upon waters across the top of North America that might connect the Atlantic with the Pacific. As the information flowed forth, so Cook became increasingly convinced that he was the man for the task. Kippis continued: ‘Captain Cook was so fired with the contemplation and representation of the object that he started up, and declared that he himself would undertake the direction of the enterprise. It is easy to suppose with what pleasure the noble lord and the other gentlemen received a proposal which was so agreeable to their secret wishes …’ They had found their man.
Lord Sandwich informed the King almost immediately of Cook’s decision, and within days it was common knowledge. At the end of January, the General Evening Post reported:
Captain Cook in the new voyage which he is going to make is to take Omai to Otaheite, and from thence to proceed upon the Discovery of the North-West Passage to the northward of California. Parliament has just offered a reward, £20,000 to those who approach within one degree of the Pole; but there are to be no Botanists, Designers etc to accompany them.
Having negotiated with the Admiralty the parameters of his appointment, Cook then had his goose-feather quill in hand on 14 February to pen a note to John Walker in Whitby. The letter read in part:
I should have Answered your last favour sooner, but waited to know whether I should go to Greenwich Hospital, or the South Sea. The latter is now fixed upon; I expect to be ready to sail about the latter end of April with my old ship the Resolution and the Discovery, the ship lately purchased of Mr Herbert. I know not what your opinion may be on this step I have taken. It is certain I have quitted an easy retirement, for an Active, and perhaps Dangerous Voyage. My present disposition is more favourable to the latter than the former, and I embark on as fair a prospect as I can wish. If I am fortunate enough to get safe home, there is no doubt but it will be greatly to my advantage.
The question begged to be asked: what was it that caused Cook – the man who was undeniably the world’s greatest maritime explorer – to again leave his family and challenge the unknown, for a similarly unknown amount of time?
This mission, as directed by the Admiralty, was designed to solve the mystery surrounding the existence of the Northwest Passage. Others had gone before him looking for it, the most recent being John Byron in 1764. On arriving in the Pacific via the Straits of Magellan, however, the former Dolphin commander had decided to ignore his orders from the Admiralty and searched instead for undiscovered islands in the tropical regions of the South Pacific, rather than turning directly north. Now it was Cook’s chance to add fine detail to the current knowledge of the world’s oceans. Should he be successful in discovering the passage, he would reveal a new trading route between the two great oceans; one that provided a far more direct passage to the wealth of the East Indies for much of the year, by eliminating the need to sail via the wretched waters of Cape Horn, or the long route around the Cape of Good Hope. Success would also see the captain and crew of Resolution and Discovery share in the £20,000 reward promised by the government – a princely sum, although a pittance compared to the financial benefit that such a route offered to British trade.
Around this time, Clerke was one of many Royal Navy officers released from prison through an Act of Parliament, since there was now an urgent need for these experienced sailors in North America. The Admiralty had no hesitation in confirming him as captain of Discovery. Even so, Clerke’s unbridled freedom was still to be confirmed: he would need to be back in London prior to the two ships making their final departure from Plymouth before he could be sure of sailing as scheduled.
On 16 May, while the refitting of both vessels continued at Deptford, Cook was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society. Such was the support for his admission that twenty-five members proposed him (instead of the usual three or so), the first two on the nomination document being Joseph Banks and Daniel Solander. Obviously, Cook and Banks had put their earlier differences behind them. London’s famed botanist was not only highly supportive of Cook’s latest expedition, but also actively involved in preparations for what was expected to be a three-year undertaking. Cook was absent for this portion of the ships’ refits, however, and Banks lacked the requisite knowledge when it came to checking on the standard of workmanship at the navy dock. This had always been Cook’s domain but now, with virtually no direct management, the workers took shortcuts, especially when it came to caulking the topsides and decks. It would not be until Resolution was under a heavy press of sail and rolling down large Atlantic swells that the problems became apparent: she was a horribly leaky ship. Water poured below, through the topsides and decks, as she lumbered from gunwale to gunwale. It was guaranteed to be a miserable existence for everyone.
The main reasons for the commander’s absence from the dock was that he was busy rewriting and editing his journal from the earlier voyage, and sitting for a portrait by noted artist Nathaniel Dance. The painting, which depicts a pensive Cook in full uniform, has become the most reproduced of all that were done of the great mariner. It is interesting to note that this portrait does not show Cook with a gloved right hand, as is the case with the similarly famous John Webber portrait on display at the National Portrait Gallery in Canberra. The captain often wore a glove on that hand to conceal the wounds he had suffered in Newfoundland in August 1764, when the powder horn he was holding exploded. The Admiralty appointed Webber ‘Draughtsman and Landskip Painter’ for Resolution’s second voyage.
The captain was also enjoying his home life, with his and Elizabeth’s brood having increased by one when a son, Hugh, was born nine months after his return to England. The two eldest boys, James and Nathaniel, were then aged twelve and eleven respectively. James had already entered the Royal Navy Academy at Portsmouth, and Nathaniel was about to join the navy as well. However, the family still had to cope with the sad fact that three siblings – Elizabeth, Joseph and George – had all died in infancy. In a letter that Cook sent to Lord Sandwich at this time, he wrote: ‘[I] thank your Lordship for the … Very liberal allowance made to Mrs Cook during my absence. This, by enabling my family to live at ease and removing from them every fear of indigence, has set my heart at rest and filled it with gratitude to my Noble benefactor.’
There was a plethora of features to this new expedition that Cook had to take into consideration, none more critical than the fact that it would again see them experience two climatic extremes – the steamy heat of the tropics through to the biting cold of the polar zone, with its ice, snow and howling winds. In normal circumstances, the men of the lower deck were expected to supply most, if not all, of their clothing, but this time the captain knew he had to help out. The voyage would take Resolution and Discovery inside the Arctic Circle, little different from going within the Antarctic Circle between three and five years earlier. Cook realised he had to ‘weather-proof’ his men as much as possible, so he placed a special clothing order with the Navy Board. This included 100 kersey (coarse wool) jackets, 60 kersey waistcoats, 40 pairs of kersey breeches, 120 linsey (woven coarse twill) waistcoats, 140 linsey drawers, 440 checked shirts, 100 pairs of checked drawers, 400 frockcoats, 700 pairs of trousers, 500 pairs of stockings, 80 worsted caps, 340 Dutch caps and 800 pairs of shoes.
The original plan was for Resolution to have departed from England and be heading towards the Cape of Good Hope by early April, but tardiness on the part of the dockyard workers at Deptford had seen that month come and go, with the ship still being far from ready. The crew for the mission was close to being finalised. It had been structured around Cook’s affirmation th
at having a solid depth of seafaring experience among his senior men was crucial to the expedition’s success. Here, he was pleased to be able to draw on a number of sailors who had been with him on either the previous circumnavigation or both – all of whom had no hesitation in going with the explorer again. Six men on this new voyage had been with him for both circumnavigations, and of the latest complement, twelve were returning from Resolution’s first voyage. The crew was a cosmopolitan combination of seafarers and supernumeraries: the vast majority were English, but the mix also included men from Ireland, Wales, Scotland, America and Germany. One name missing was Richard Pickersgill, whom Cook had enthusiastically supported in his two voyages. This time the Admiralty, for some unknown reason, sent him elsewhere.
As his three lieutenants, Cook had John Gore, James King and John Williamson. But it was his choice of sailing master that history would recognise as being most significant – a 21-year-old by the name of William Bligh, who was already making a bold impression on his superiors. Bligh came aboard on the strong recommendation of Lord Sandwich.
It was not until 30 May that Resolution was finally ready to depart from Deptford. On that day she worked the tide down the Thames to Long Reach where, as the commander noted, they ‘took on board our artillery, Powder Shot and other Ordnance stores’. A journal entry a few days later told of another important cargo: ‘Took on board a Bull, 2 Cows with their Calves & some sheep to carry to Otaheite with a quantity of Hay and Corn for their subsistence. These Cattle were put on board at His Majesty’s Command and expense with a view of stocking Otaheite and the Neighbouring Islands with these useful animals …’ The very important instruments for the voyage also arrived: ‘Received on board several Astronomical & Nautical Instruments which the Board of Longitude intrusted to me and Mr King my second Lieutenant … They also put on board the same Watch Machine that was out with me last voyage …’