by Lay, Graeme
Furneaux’s eyes slid away. ‘I did. But the men refused to eat them.’
James’s expression hardened. ‘And as a consequence, they have the scurvy.’ He shook his head. ‘Furneaux, I cannot believe this. You knew the consequences of the men not following a strict diet. You and the other officers followed it, I assume?’ After Furneaux nodded, James continued. ‘On my ship it is a flogging offence for the men not to consume the anti-scorbutics.’ He fixed Furneaux with his sternest gaze. ‘And consequently not one man on the ship has the scurvy.’ He got up, walked to the stern window and stared at the land. ‘While we are here, celery and scurvy grass will be gathered and stowed. The wort and sauerkraut will be taken daily. By everyone.’ Turning back to Adventure’s commander, he said adamantly, ‘Those who refuse must be lashed. Is that understood?’
Looking subdued now, Furneaux nodded. Then he said quietly, ‘There are venereals too, affecting several of the men.’
‘Those affected must not be allowed to consort with the Maori women,’ James declared. ‘We cannot permit the venereals to spread among the natives.’
Furneaux nodded. ‘But that will be difficult to enforce during the wintering over in this cove.’
James’s reply shot back. ‘We will not be wintering here. You have already been here for six weeks. Time enough. And I remind you, Furneaux, that our instructions are to thoroughly explore the Southern Ocean. Thereafter, we will set a course for Otaheite and points further west, so we cannot spend months idling away time here. After the ships have been aired and cleaned, and food and water stowed, we will set sail together, on a south-westerly course, to take advantage of the prevailing winds.’ He folded his arms. ‘Is that clear?’
Looking chastened, the commander of Adventure nodded. ‘Yes. My ship, and my men, will be ready.’
Furneaux then brought James up to date on other developments to do with the natives, ones which made James even more determined to set sail without delay. During the weeks that Adventure had been in Ship Cove, a trade with the New Zealanders had begun, far more vigorous and prolific than the gentle encounters experienced by Endeavour’s men back in 1770. Those natives, including the old chief Topaa, whom the Endeavours had got to know well, had gone. Vanquished by their tribal enemies, the Adventures surmised. But although it was different groups of natives who greeted Furneaux and his men, they had all heard of the Raiatean, Tupaia. They asked after him and his foster-son Tiata, and showed great sorrow when informed of the Otahetians’ deaths in Batavia.
There had been an outbreak of carnality, Furneaux also reported. A trade in sex, in exchange for metal and glass, had begun and had gathered pace rapidly. The men of Adventure had quickly learned the purchasing power of nails, axes and bottles. A pattern had been established. The Maori men brought their women to the ship in canoes. After climbing aboard, offers were made and deals swiftly done between the sailors, the native men and their women. A nail, an axe or a bottle were given over to the Maori men, who then passed over their women. At first the sailors took the women below decks and fornicated with them there. Then, urged on by the Maori men, business became brisker. More trade goods were exchanged. Copulation now took place around the decks, with those awaiting their turn cheering the rutting couples on. The nearby beach had also become the scene of frantic sexual connections.
‘It is a kind of madness, sir,’ Furneaux concluded. ‘One which I am powerless to stop. The men seem almost drunk with lust.’
James sighed heavily. ‘I know. I have seen it before, in Otaheite. It is impossible to prevent it, the men being as they are after long periods at sea.’
He clenched and unclenched his aching right fist. ‘What I most abhor is the spread of the venereals as a result. We have infected the people of these islands as a consequence of our lust, and that must be stopped.’
The next day Johann Forster confronted James in the Great Cabin. He seemed almost beside himself with shock. Face puce, eyes almost popping from his head, he spoke in desperate bursts. ‘The men are indulging in sin and depravity. This morning on the foreshore—’ He brought up one hand and put it over his eyes as if to block out the image. ‘Two men were sharing a native woman. In and out like dogs at a fair.’ He lowered his hand. ‘One after the other, on her, this way and that.’ Shuddering, he added, ‘Their rutting put me in mind of the baboon colony I visited at the Cape. It disgusted me so much I could scarcely bring myself to watch.’
Suppressing a smile at this image, James said, ‘I share your concerns, Forster, but there is little we can do to stop it, the men having gone without women for so long. My principal anxiety is the spread of disease.’
Forster was silent for a moment, his face still rigid with revulsion. Then his eyes widened still further. ‘Our Lord’s words may stop them.’ He blinked hard. ‘I could institute Bible readings for the men after the midday meal. Or prepare a sermon on the evils of fornication and deliver it to them.’
James held up his hand. ‘That would do little good, Forster.’ He stood up to indicate the meeting was over. ‘I suggest you concentrate instead on your botanising.’
Forster gave a cry of frustration, then walked away.
The following day James witnessed one effect of the carnal trade. Hodges, wishing to portray a particularly attractive young wahine he saw in a canoe coming alongside, invited her to the Great Cabin for a sitting. She was about 18, her eyes were deep brown and her raven hair hung down over her shoulders. Her bare breasts were high, her nipples prominent. Smiling and pointing to herself, she said, ‘Arapera.’
Once below, Hodges by gestures invited her to sit in an armchair next to his easel. The young woman looked confused. ‘The chair, please,’ said Hodges, again indicating where she was to sit, and picking up his crayon. Still looking puzzled, Arapera obeyed. She sat in the chair, then lay back, trying at the same time to part her legs. Through the lines of her flax skirt Hodges could see a pad of dark hair and a pink crevice. She looked at him expectantly, holding up her hands.
Observing the scene from the other side of the cabin, James realised what the source of her confusion was. ‘No, no,’ he said desperately. He picked up another crayon and made drawing gestures with it. ‘Your picture. He only wishes to draw your picture.’
Understanding, Arapera smiled, brought her knees together and sat up in the chair, primly. Hodges winked at James, then commenced his portraiture.
There were some successes, along with the failures. James ordered that the ram and ewe which had been penned on Resolution’s deck be liberated on Ship Cove’s foreshore, and they promptly disappeared into the forest. As he and Clerke watched the pair go, James said, ‘Their offspring and their descendants will offer the natives meat and wool, something they sadly lack.’
Two days later, at dinner in the Great Cabin, Pickersgill reported that the two sheep had been found in the undergrowth by the wooding party, dead and already fly-blown. ‘I suspect they ate something toxic.’
Johann Forster nodded gloomily. ‘There is a plant the natives call karaka. Its berries are poisonous to humans and animals.’
‘They do eat the berries, though,’ George put in. ‘After baking the berries in their earth ovens. The baking destroys the poison.’
James looked thoughtful. He was determined to introduce grazing animals to this land. ‘Then we’ll let the goats free,’ he concluded, ‘the billy and the nanny. Goats can tolerate any food. Is that not correct, Forster?’
The naturalist looked up from his duck. ‘I believe so. Pigs, also. I think we should take a breeding pair of swine ashore too.’
The pair of pigs was released at Cannibal Cove. A week later James, Furneaux and Johann Forster were rowed across the sound to East Bay, where the male and female goat were let go. James and the others were confident that the natives would not kill the pair, as they had observed that the New Zealanders were fearful of goats, after a young boy visiting Resolution had been fiercely butted and knocked over by Will the ram.
&nbs
p; As the crews prepared to unmoor Resolution and Adventure, James climbed the mainmast and stared across the sound to the islands in the distance. It was early evening, the air was cool, and the setting sun was casting a pinkish light over the water of the sound and the forests of Motuara and Arapawa Islands. A solitary gannet hovered above the ship, its pinions see-sawing, eyes fixed downward as if inspecting Resolution’s topgallants. James savoured the scene. He loved this place, for its natural beauty as much as its people and resources. The animals they had released would breed, he hoped, and so comprise a lasting legacy from the British to the people of these islands. He climbed back down the mast to the deck, nodding a greeting to sailing master Gilbert, who was checking the compass beside the helm, comparing it with his own hand-held instrument. Then he descended the companionway, entered the Great Cabin, and began to write a further journal entry to Elizabeth.
Fifteen
9 JUNE 1773
Dearest Elizabeth,
Our three-month sojourn in New Zealand proved at least partially worthwhile, in that we are reunited with our consort vessel, Adventure, and the sound previously uncharted and which I have named Dusky Bay has been thoroughly surveyed and its parts also named. However it is with considerable relief that we will shortly be at sea once more. Ship Cove, which you will recall my describing to you in detail during my stay there in January 1770, proved again beneficent to our needs, and consequently we are well provisioned for this next stage of our voyage.
However, distressing events of a nature too amoral to describe, concerning the native women and their corruption by both our men and theirs, lead me to wonder if contact with so-called civilisation will prove to be in the best interests of the natives. While I deplore this disgraceful trade, and the depths to which the men’s behaviour sinks, there was little I could do to prevent their wantonness except set a personal example of my own to them.
As I have already mentioned to you, it is my earnest desire that we introduce European agriculture to these wild islands, in order that their native inhabitants may develop pastoralism and animal husbandry of their own. (They have no animals save dogs, which they eat and make cloaks from their skins.) Potatoes planted by Adventure’s naturalist on the island have already sprouted, and provided they are left to mature, will provide a ready food source for generations of New Zealanders. That they understand the fundamentals of crop-raising can be gained by their cultivation of a sweet potato in the warmer regions of their islands, brought I believe from Otaheite many years ago. Their word for potato is ‘kumara’ and after harvesting they store this nutritious root crop in pits for consumption during the winter months. (Sydney Parkinson illustrated the kumara plant, Ipomoea batatas, and its flowers in Otaheite during our earlier voyage.) It is my earnest hope that the New Zealanders’ diet will be enriched by the European plants as well as the animals which we have bequeathed to them.
I intend taking a south-easterly course through the southern Pacific, in pursuit once more of the elusive Great Southern Continent, I will hold this course for several more weeks, in the hope that we discover hitherto unknown land. There is an island in the lower latitudes already discovered and named Pitcairn by Philip Carteret of HMS Swallow, in 1767, which I intend to survey.
Summer in London, what thoughts of home the knowledge of that season brings! Doubtless little George is growing rapidly and proving a much-loved playmate for young James and Nathaniel. I often picture the three boys in our back garden, enjoying the long hot days and hunting out insect food for their frog collection. Your climbing rose must be brightening the garden with its blooms, along with the red geraniums in their window boxes.
These thoughts and images console me during the long and often lonely nights at sea.
My love to all,
James
‘Morning, Captain.’
‘Morning, Clerke.’
Both men were on the quarterdeck, caped against the cold. Although the air was chilly, unusually on this morning there was not a breath of wind. Both Resolution and Adventure were becalmed, their sails slack and baggy. The sea was silky, the sky almost completely clear, with only skeins of cirrus cloud high above. A pair of tropic birds soared above Resolution, eyeing it curiously. Quartermaster Atkin alone gripped the wheel. For over two weeks now the two ships had followed first a south-easterly, then an easterly course, sailing south to the 47th parallel, then tracking due east, accompanied mostly by gale-force winds and roiling seas. Their progress was satisfying—on 2 August, propelled by a south-westerly, they covered 107 nautical miles. And day after day there was nothing but ocean and more ocean, the sea seemingly endless and certainly landless.
This morning comprised a rare interlude of calm in mid-ocean. James did not mind this respite as it enabled the cleaning of the ship to be carried out more expeditiously. Overseen by bosun’s mate Anderson, at dawn half a dozen men had been on their knees, scrubbing the mid and foredecks. Now, on the foredeck, sailmaker Bevans was repairing a torn jib; other crewmen were busy reeving the blocks and greasing them with seal fat.
Clerke peered at the horizon. ‘Not a sign of land, sir.’
‘No. No refracting currents, no driftwood, no land birds.’ James laughed. ‘The Great Unknown Continent remains unknown. Or at the least, elusive.’
‘We must be in the vicinity of Pitcairn Island, though.’
‘I believe so, but there is no sign of it.’
At that moment a boom of cannon fire rang out. Both men looked quickly to starboard. Adventure’s launch was being hoisted out. James called down to the master, who was standing at the base of the main mast. ‘Gilbert! Adventure’s launch is coming our way. Prepare to have her alongside.’
It was not Furneaux who was being rowed across to Resolution, but Lieutenant Kempe. A line was thrown down by Gilbert and made fast, and Adventure’s lanky First Officer climbed up onto the quarterdeck. Shaking hands with James and Clerke, he said soberly, ‘Captain Furneaux wishes me to convey his apologies. He is suffering from gout. Brought on by the cold, the surgeon declares. He prescribed quantities of port wine.’ Kempe bared his teeth, as if he was in pain himself. ‘And our cook died yesterday. Of consumption.’ Looking even more uncomfortable now, he said, ‘Several of the men are ill also.’
James looked at him sharply. ‘What are their symptoms?’
‘Bleeding and swollen gums, extreme lethargy, ulcerated limbs—’
‘Scurvy,’ James said accusingly.
‘We fear so, sir.’
‘Were the men not ordered to eat their greens, and the wort? The anti-scorbutics?’
Kempe looked down. ‘They were ordered to, sir, but I believe that they made only a pretence of doing so. Those affected are confined to their berths and are unable to work the ship. Unless we gain more fresh provisions, I fear we will be unable to continue.’
Inwardly, James fumed. He had stressed the importance of enforcing an anti-scorbutic diet to Furneaux on several occasions, so why had he not heeded this strategy? He turned to his First Officer. ‘What was our last recorded latitude, Clerke?’
‘Forty-two degrees south.’
James thought quickly. Not a single sign of land in these latitudes, not even Pitcairn Island. In the circumstances, it was pointless to continue on this course. They dare not risk another separation, and that was possible if Furneaux’s ship could not be properly worked. But damn the Adventures and their refusal to eat their fresh victuals. Why did Furneaux not prescribe the lash? He looked at Kempe coldly. ‘In view of this bad news, we must alter course. We will proceed to the north, to the latitude of 20 degrees, in the region of the Dangerous Archipelago. From there we will turn west and make for Otaheite in order to gain fresh provisions. Return to your ship, Lieutenant, and convey that order to Captain Furneaux. But before you do so, I will pen a letter for you to take back to him.’
Furneaux,
I have on previous occasions emphasised to you the importance of diet in combating scurvy, but from Lieutenant Ke
mpe’s report to me today on the poor state of many of your men’s health, it is necessary for me to reiterate these dietary instructions, viz: You are to brew beer from the thickened juice of wort, essence of spruce and tea plants, boil cabbage with the peas, serve wine instead of spirits and reduce the crew’s intake of salt beef. These instructions must be adopted immediately and followed to the letter.
Cook
A week later, Furneaux, his gout much reduced, crossed to Resolution from Adventure and reported to James that the health of his crew had also improved.
14 AUGUST 1773
Winds East. Distance sailed 102 miles. Latitude in South 17° 15´. Longitude in West reckoning 146° 41´. At 5 o’clock in the pm saw land extending from WSW to SW distance 3 or 4 leagues. I judged it to be the Chain Island discovered in my last voyage. Fearing to fall in with some of these low islands in night and desirous of avoiding the delay which lying to occasions I hoisted out the cutter, equipped her properly and sent her ahead to carry a light with proper signals to direct the sloop in case she met with danger. In this manner we proceeded all night without meeting with anything. At 6 in the morning I called her on board and hoisted her in, as it did not appear that she would be wanted again for this purpose, as we had now a large swell from the South, a sure indication that we were clear of the low islands.
The sloops may have been clear of the hazardous low islands, but shortly after again entering open sea, word was sent across from Adventure that scurvy had again broken out, this time because of a depletion of the supply of anti-scorbutics. Several men were seriously ill.
On the table in the Great Cabin, James set out his chart of the two conjoined islands of Otaheite, drawn by him in 1769 and published by the Admiralty. Placing his forefinger on the southernmost area, he said to Furneaux, ‘We will make first for Vaitepiha. It is a day’s sailing closer than Matavai Bay, and offers a safe pass through the reef and a sheltered anchorage within. And a fertile plain will provide us with an abundance of fresh fruit and vegetables.’