James Cook's New World

by Lay, Graeme

  James exhaled slowly. ‘Mr Forster, as you must know, the livestock are precious. I intend to introduce them to the New Zealanders so they can use them for breeding. They will die if they are exposed to the cold, and if so that opportunity will be lost.’

  Forster’s eyes popped. ‘And what of me? I too will die of the cold if it continues. And furthermore, my cabin leaks. Each day it becomes worse. And now this animal stench!’

  James cursed under his breath. Forster’s bleating was worse than that of the sheep. He waved his hand dismissively. ‘We will speak no more of this, Forster. Now leave me, I have urgent business to attend to.’

  The next evening, when he came to supper in the Great Cabin, Forster held a handkerchief to his face. After he sat down he blew his nose violently, then began to wheeze, clutching the kerchief in both hands. The others exchanged exasperated looks. Forster looked at James with his rheumy eyes. ‘My cold has worsened.’

  ‘The cold affects us all, Forster. As should be obvious to you.’

  Forster shook his head. ‘But the animal stench is worse for me as I am so close. The creatures must be moved back up to the deck.’

  James glared at him. ‘They cannot be moved, and they will not be. As I have already told you.’

  A deathly silence fell upon the cabin. The officers looked down, their faces stony. Forster stared at James. He sniffed hard. ‘This voyage is becoming a farce. All we have, day after day, is water, fog, ice and snow.’ Another sniff. ‘And I have made no botanic discoveries!’

  James allowed a pause then replied in a voice as icy as the air outside, ‘You must have been aware, Forster, when you signed on for this voyage, that we would be in Antarctic waters for much of the time. And that that would preclude making many botanic discoveries.’

  Forster wiped his nose. ‘Had I but known what discomforts this voyage would involve, I would have asked to be paid much more than 4000 pounds.’

  There was an immediate silence. The officers’ jaws dropped, in unison. James fell back in his chair. Gulping, Cooper said, ‘Four thousand pounds?’

  Forster raised his chin. ‘That is what I said. That is what I am to be paid.’ His eyes roamed around the company. ‘And it is no more than a man of my talents deserves.’ He shoved back his chair, got to his feet and with a final dismissive sniff left the cabin.

  Pickersgill looked at James in disbelief. ‘Did you know of this princely sum, sir?’

  James shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Could he be gulling us?’ suggested Cooper.

  James considered the question in silence for some moments. He thought back to the time of Forster’s appointment, to the time when Banks had abruptly withdrawn from the expedition. A naturalist’s services were considered vital for their mission, and the Admiralty had just lost the services of the man the Sea Lords had assumed would accompany the expedition. That being the case, and at such short notice, it was possible that the Lords had considered it necessary to offer Forster a generous incentive. But 4000 pounds? That was ten times the sum that James was being paid as master and commander. It was a fortune, only a little less than the Admiralty had paid for the entire ship. His face set, he looked around at the others. ‘If that is what he says he is to be paid, then we must accept his word for it. But it is part of our duty to see that he earns every penny of it.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘And that means his berth remains where it is. Close to the pig pen.’

  The others burst into laughter, relieving the tension in the cabin as if the air in a balloon had been released.

  Winds NE to NNW, latitude in the South, 58° 55´, longitude East of Greenwich 14° 43´.

  First and middle parts strong gales attended with a thick fog, sleet and snow, all the rigging covered with ice and the air excessive cold. At noon we judged ourselves to be in or near the same longitude as we were when we fell in with the last field ice and about six leagues farther to the north, so that had it remained in the same place we ought to have been in the middle of it, or at least so many leagues advanced within it. As it cannot be supposed that so large a body of ice as that appeared to be could be wasted in so short a time as four days, it must therefore have drifted to the northward, and if so there can be no land to the north of this meridian, that is between the latitude of 55° and 59°.

  No creature, human or animal, could escape the cold’s consequences, but James was determined that they would not alter their southward course. They had to determine if somewhere in these icy southern depths there lay land. Twice the ships were brought alongside one another and Furneaux came aboard from Adventure. After discussions with the other officers this obligation was affirmed, in spite of seeing no cape, no island, no continent. They also discussed what they should do if the two vessels fell out of sight of one another. The thickness of the fog banks recently had made that a possibility. James and Furneaux agreed that should a separation occur, Resolution’s cannons would be fired at intervals. Adventure would respond with signals from her cannons until the vessels sighted one another again. If it was not possible to fire the cannons, the marines would beat out a tattoo on their drums from the decks. Furneaux gave James a weak smile. ‘And should we still not be united, sir?’

  ‘We will in that eventuality rendezvous in Ship Cove, Queen Charlotte Sound, New Zealand.’ He gave Furneaux a straight look. ‘You have the co-ordinates.’

  ‘Yes. And the cove is a very agreeable anchorage, you have said, sir.’

  ‘It is indeed.’ James stood up. ‘And now you’d best be getting back to your vessel.’

  As the mid-summer southern solstice, 22 December, approached, the air temperature averaged freezing point, 33 degrees the maximum, the minimum 31 degrees. Paradoxically, the high latitude they were in meant that there were barely two hours of darkness. The winds remained gale force and frigid, the weak sun described a long low arc across the western horizon far astern of Resolution and Adventure and dipping only briefly below it.

  Three days later both ships were again brought to and the crews celebrated Christmas. Albatrosses caught on fishing lines were plucked, converted to pies and eaten. Young seals were shot, butchered into steaks and fried. The rum ration was doubled. The crews jigged on the decks to fiddle music and staged bare-fisted boxing matches, their insides warmed with the grog while all around them the rigging was adorned with icicles. It was the most bizarre Christmas any of them had ever known.

  With their fresh food stocks depleted, the threat of scurvy loomed. The anti-scorbutics—mainly wort and sauerkraut—were compulsorily included with all meals. Considering that fresh meat may also combat scurvy, James encouraged the shooting and eating of baby seals. But with the water casks running low, the time had arrived to answer the vexed question: could the ice mountains be tapped for drinking water?

  On 9 January of the New Year, 1773, at latitude 61 degrees south, they came upon smaller chunks of ice floating loose in the sea. An ice field, James immediately named it. Soon the ships were surrounded by the chunks. Seizing the chance, he ordered the boats hoisted out and the men to bring some aboard. From the boats, the seamen hacked lumps from the floating ice and collected them. While they did so, others shot the seabirds that roosted upon the ice, mainly petrels and penguins, and Hodges sketched the scene.

  The ice chunks were brought aboard and dumped amidships. James and the other officers watched from the quarterdeck as one of the able seamen, Richard Collett, popped a lump into his mouth. Everyone stared as Collett sucked at the ice lump, his cheeks bulging. Would he spit it out with salty distaste? He kept sucking, frowning with concentration. Then he swallowed twice and his face broke into a grin. Looking up at James, he called up delightedly, ‘That’s the sweetest, freshest water I’ve ever tasted, sir!’

  ‘No salt, Collett?’

  ‘Not a trace, sir. It is as fresh as a Pennine stream!’

  Everyone except Johann Forster looked thrilled. Fresh water, just what they needed! James instructed the seamen gathered on the deck, ‘Bring
the water casks up from below, jettison the stale water and replace it all with ice.’

  It was the best news they had heard since leaving Cape Town. Clerke looked particularly pleased. ‘The fresh water will be good for the men’s spirits, sir. Moreover, the fact that the ice mountains are fresh may indicate that they originate over land.’

  James nodded. He had already come to the same conclusion.

  17 JANUARY 1773

  Dearest Beth,

  I write from the bottom of the world! Today by the reckonings of astronomer Wales and myself, we passed through the latitude of the Antarctic Circle, 66° South Latitude. This notable milestone occurred at about a quarter past 11 o’clock this morning. I do believe that ours is the first ship ever to have crossed this line, an event which occasions me great pride. Forgive me, Beth, for this boasting but I cannot desist from recording this event in my journal to you. Now, however, through my cabin window I can see that the field ice which has become our constant companion these last weeks will preclude any further sailing southward. Two of the crew who have sailed in Greenland’s icy waters reported to me a few days ago that ships caught in field ice can be imprisoned and crushed by it, a hazard which I cannot possibly subject the men of Resolution and Adventure to.

  England now seems so far away, as indeed it is, almost as far as it is possible to be. Yet you and our three sons are still constantly in my thoughts. You will by now I hope have received my letter sent from Cape Town two months ago. Your Christmas and New Year festivities were joyful, I hope, at Assembly Row. Roast goose, chestnut stuffing, vegetables and plum pudding?

  We have sighted no land whatsoever during these past two months, neither the Frenchman Bouvet’s Cape Circumcision nor the islands his compatriot Yves-Joseph de Kerguelen-Tremarec came upon in February 1772. Either this discovery was an invention, or the Frenchman’s observation of longitude estimate, 58° East of Greenwich, was inexact. In either respect, I do not believe that either of these discoveries can possibly be a continent, meaning that after sailing through more than one hundred degrees of longitude we have sighted no land whatsoever, only ice mountains, some the size of cathedrals. The Christmas scarf you knitted for me I wear constantly, it keeps my throat protected from the bitter winds.

  James and Nathaniel always asked me about the creatures we encountered on Endeavour. Doubtless they will want to know which ones we have observed on this voyage. The birdlife in these high latitudes consists mainly of petrels, skuas and albatrosses, the latter the most majestic birds I have ever seen. The sea creatures are remarkable: huge whales which spout water from holes in their heads, sleek bewhiskered seals and solemn little penguins which stare at us from their ice platforms, standing in lines like militiamen. Our artist Hodges and the young Forster have sketched all these creatures, so I shall be able to display copies of their drawings to the boys upon my return. That reminds me—how are James and Nathaniel’s frogs, Toby and Zach? Hibernating at this time, I presume.

  I will close this entry now, Beth. In the depths of the English winter you will no doubt be longing for spring’s arrival. We too are immersed in bitter cold, but at least we have long daylight hours in which to navigate and avoid the ice mountains which are our constant, silent companions.

  My love to you, dearest wife, and to James, Nathaniel and baby George. Your devoted husband, James

  It was on 8 February that Resolution and Adventure lost one another. Another dense fog had descended, blanketing the sea and limiting visibility to a few yards. Adventure melted into the mist and failed to reappear. James ordered gunner Anderson to fire Resolution’s cannons and sailing master Gilbert to tack the ship across the area where they had last seen their consort. But there was no answering cannon fire. The guns were fired again, every half-hour, booming out eerily over the blanketed ocean. No response. The marines beat their drums frantically. Still no reply. And when at last the fog lifted Adventure was nowhere in sight. James ordered Resolution returned to the place where Adventure was last seen, then ordered them to make short boards, expecting that Furneaux would do likewise. But there was no sign of the sister ship, only dark sea and more dark sea, grey sky and more grey sky.

  The loss of contact with Adventure cast a mood of gloom over Resolution. The two vessels had enjoyed a comforting companionship since they had left Plymouth six months ago and losing their consort was akin to a death in the family. Little was said about Adventure’s fate but she was in everyone’s thoughts. Had she struck an ice mountain and founded? Could a huge slab of ice have broken away and fallen on her? Could she have been dismasted and now be drifting helplessly? Agonisingly, there was no way of knowing. Pickersgill offered James some consolation. As a 17-year-old he had been with Samuel Wallis on Dolphin in 1767 when they became separated from her consort vessel, Swallow, in the South Pacific. As the cannons boomed out yet again from the decks of Resolution and echoed in the mist without a reply, Pickersgill said, ‘In ’67 we too feared the mortal loss of our consort, sir. But Swallow did make it back to England safely.’

  ‘Yes,’ James conceded. ‘But it took her two years to do so, did it not?’ After Pickersgill nodded, he added grimly, ‘We have the need of Adventure now.’

  After calling a meeting of his officers in the Great Cabin, James declared, ‘Given the regrettable separation which has occurred, Resolution must now proceed independently. We will continue on an eastward course, following the Antarctic Circle, in search of a landmass.’

  There was an uneasy silence around the table. Lieutenant Cooper said hesitantly, ‘Should we not now proceed to New Zealand, Captain? And be reunited with Adventure in Ship Cove?’

  There were murmurings of approval. James felt a surge of annoyance. He replied coolly, ‘Let me remind you, Cooper, that our primary instruction is to ascertain if there is a landmass in these latitudes.’

  This time it was Clerke who spoke up. ‘That is understood, sir. But we have come across no land whatsoever. It seems that these latitudes contain only ice.’

  Pickersgill raised his hand. ‘I have also to say, sir, that below decks the men are weary from the cold. It has been over two months since we had fair weather and—’

  James cut him off. ‘I am fully aware of that fact. We are all tired of the cold. But I am also fully aware of our obligations to the Admiralty. We will continue on an eastward course until at least 150 degrees longitude.’ His eyes swept the cabin. ‘Is that understood?’

  They all nodded, though aware that today’s longitude had been calculated to be just 64 degrees east. That meant several more weeks of bitterly cold sailing.

  After weeks of seeing the sun or moon only intermittently, for a few nights in mid-February the sky cleared and they saw the lights. James, Clerke and Wales stood on the afterdeck, staring in wonder. A display of brilliant white light was spread across the sky in columns, streaks and whorling waves so bright that they hid the stars. At their highest point, several of the columns swept upwards like coiffed white hair.

  ‘The southern counterpart of the Aurora borealis,’ murmured Wales.

  ‘Yes, the Northern Lights,’ said James, who had seen them in Norway years ago. ‘But these are far brighter.’

  Clerke said, ‘They are so beautiful. Like a natural fireworks display.’ He turned to Wales. ‘What is the cause of such lights?’

  ‘It is unknown,’ the astronomer replied, still gazing upwards, ‘although it is surmised that it is due to changes in the Earth’s atmosphere. Or perhaps magnetic particles.’

  ‘We should name these the Southern Lights,’ suggested Clerke.

  ‘Or Aurora australis, perhaps,’ James added. ‘But why do the lights appear only in the high latitudes?’

  ‘That is a question which many astronomers have asked, Captain. And as yet, we have no answer.’

  At that moment Johann Forster joined them on the deck, caped and scarfed against the cold. Hands thrust into his pockets, he stared up at the spread of brilliant white light. Giving a long, satisfied sig
h, he said, ‘More of God’s wonderful handiwork.’

  The others looked at him sceptically. Wales said, ‘The aurora is a natural phenomenon, Forster.’

  Forster shook his head. ‘Not so. It is a creation of the Almighty. One of many. To remind us of His creation and authority.’

  James thought, let the fellow believe what he wants to. But the lights are undoubtedly natural.

  The aurora’s brilliance was on display for several nights, then the cloud, fog and gloom closed in once more. James kept the men above deck on shortened duties to minimise their exposure, while also keeping those below smoking the decks out and cleaning their berths. Noticing how tatty the men’s uniforms had become, he issued them with needles, buttons and thread and commanded them to mend the tears in their clothing. The anti-scorbutics were compulsorily prescribed and consumed, to keep scurvy at bay. More seals were shot and eaten. James had read that the natives of Greenland did not contract scurvy, although they lacked fresh fruit and vegetables. And indeed the fresh meat did seem to be effective, as there was no onset of the dreaded disease. However, many of the crew developed chilblains and fevers. The animals too continued to suffer. The ship’s breeding sow farrowed nine piglets but in spite of the men trying to keep them warm, all died shortly after birth. And were turned into soup.

  24 FEBRUARY 1773

  Winds ESE, distance sailed 22 miles. Latitude South 61° 21´, Longitude 95° 15´.

  Fresh gales and hazy with snow and sleet. Stood to the south till 8pm at which time the ice islands were now so numerous that we had passed upwards of sixty or seventy since noon many of them a mile or a mile and a half in circuit, increasing both in number and magnitude as we advanced to the south, sufficient reasons for us to tack and spend the night making short boards. Accordingly we stood to the north under reefed topsails and foresail until midnight when we tacked and stood south having very thick hazy weather with sleet and snow together with a very strong gale and a high sea from the east. Under these circumstances and surrounded on every side with huge pieces of ice equally as dangerous as so many rocks, it was natural for us to wish for daylight which when it came was so far from lessening the danger that it served to increase our apprehensions thereof by exhibiting to our view those mountains of ice which in the night would have passed unseen. These obstacles together with dark night and the advanced season of the year, discouraged me from carrying into execution a resolution I had taken of crossing the Antarctic Circle once more.