by Lay, Graeme
The weather being calm the vessels were not able to secure an anchorage near the land until the next day. The island was found to be destitute of trees, but with a fertile soil producing bananas, potatoes, and sugar cane of extraordinary thickness. The islanders themselves were found to be of a brown tint, and had long ears which hung down as far as their shoulders, as if they had been stretched to that length by being weighted.
Two days later the islander visited again the ships, in the company of other natives. And that same day Roggeveen and Behrens took land with 150 armed men. A multitude of natives surrounded them and some tried to touch the sailors’ weapons, so some opened fire and 13 islanders were killed.
James closed the book and snuffed the candle. Resolution rolled on, driven steadily by the south-easterly winds, her timbers creaking. James closed his eyes. Bananas, potatoes, sugar cane—how welcome these would be after more than 100 days in the Southern Ocean. The crew’s diet had become not only monotonous but damaging in its lack of variety. Scurvy had broken out, Patten had reported to him. Many of the men were afflicted with swollen legs, rotting gums and discolorations of the skin. All were badly in need of fresh greens, fruit and meat. James held his arms across his stomach. The pains were still there, but were now intermittent, and his bowels were moving again, albeit sporadically. For these renewed movements he had to thank Forster’s dog, whose meat had provided the variation which his gut had so sorely sought. Dog broth had proved an effective purgative. He turned over and faced the bulkhead, tossing aside the blanket that had covered him. Now that they were in the lower latitudes temperatures were rising, something to be thankful for. It was now spring in England. What were Elizabeth and their boys were doing on this day, he wondered.
Two days later he was able to leave his berth for short periods, write in both his journals and check the course with master Gilbert. But he still felt fatigued and the gut pains had not completely gone. Steadying himself against the wall of his cabin, alongside the wash basin, he stared into the shaving mirror. As he stroked the lather from his face, he realised that the planes of his face had altered. There were hollows beneath his cheekbones that had not been there before, crow’s feet lines at the corners of his eyes. His jawbone was more prominent, so he had to negotiate the razor very carefully around his changed face. Wiping the last of the lather away, he found himself staring into the face of an ageing, weary man. Repelled by what he saw, he turned away. What would Elizabeth and his young sons think of this harrowed, 45-year-old face?
‘Land, land! Off the larboard bow!’
It was mid-morning on 11 March, and midshipman Vancouver was at the masthead, pointing north-east. Rushing to the railings, the crew peered at the horizon. Others stared from Resolution’s yardarms. James climbed slowly and painfully to the masthead, hoping that the men would not notice his uncharacteristic lumbering. His gut cramped. Once aloft he winced, braced himself against the mast and put his scope to his eye.
The island formed a wide, dark bulk across the horizon. The sky was clear, the few clouds high, so that through their scopes they could discern black cliffs along a lee shore, rising inland to perhaps 500 feet. Swells smashed against the base of the cliffs. There were no forests in evidence, although smudges of smoke rose from the western end of the island. James returned slowly to the deck and approached Wales, who had been busy with his sextant. ‘Your readings?’ he demanded.
‘Twenty-seven degrees, eight minutes south of the line and—’ He checked his notes. ‘One hundred and nine degrees, 22 minutes west of Greenwich.’
James nodded. Roggeveen had miscalculated the longitude by half a degree. Fortunately for them, not a grievous discrepancy. But his latitude was a whole degree inaccurate. How could the Dutchman have made such a fundamental error when he had the use of the best astronomical instruments Holland could provide?
Around the decks, and in the rigging, the crew were exclaiming excitedly. Land, proper land, with all the prospects that offered: fresh food, fresh water, women.
Finding no safe anchorage on the exposed south coast of the island, James ordered its western extremity doubled. Half a league along the north-west coast, making short boards, they sounded 30 to 40 fathoms with a black sand bottom, just a mile out from the shore. There was a small beach opposite the ship. After the anchor was dropped, a solitary canoe came out to greet them, paddled by two naked men whose bodies were covered with elaborate tattoos and whose ears were distended in the manner Roggeveen had described. Coming aboard, the natives were affable, presenting the ship with a bunch of bananas, some sticks of sugar cane and a few sweet potatoes. In return James gave them nails and a medallion.
When the Society Islander, Hitihiti, came forward and spoke to the men in Otaheitian they looked at him in astonishment. The taller of the two men stroked his jacket admiringly. He asked them questions about their island. It was called Te Pito o te Whenua, they told him. ‘Meaning?’ asked James. Hitihiti pointed to his belly. ‘Belly-button of the world.’ Pointing inland, he added that the island’s main village was called Hangaroa.
Shore parties were prepared. Determined not to let illness impede him, James went ashore the next day, accompanied by Hitihiti, an Easter Islander called Maruahai, who had come out to the ship and spent the night on board, as well as the Forsters, Sparrman and Hodges. As they landed, a large crowd of natives greeted them curiously but without challenge, although they eyed the visitors’ muskets nervously. As they walked up onto the plain, Hitihiti explained that the Dutchmen’s shooting and killing of their people half a century before had not been forgotten. Although physically resembling the Otaheitians, the Easter Islanders observed different customs. Their faces were streaked with ochre of various colours and their earlobes were spectacularly stretched. Both men and women wore ornate hats of woven leaves, and bark-cloth cloaks around their shoulders. Drawing closer to Hangaroa, James and his party saw a long wall across the land, made of shaped basalt boulders. Near the wall lay the remains of two great statues which had evidently fallen and shattered.
‘Tupuna maybe,’ Hitihiti suggested. ‘Ancestors. But why broken?’ Beyond the village the land rose to a volcanic cone which the islanders said was called Tanaroa. On its slopes was a quarry, called Puna, where the rocks for the wall and platform originated.
James and the others exchanged nails and beads with the islanders for some plantains and pieces of sugar cane. The natives looked at them with great curiosity, especially the naked children, who giggled and danced about excitedly. ‘I see why they all wear hats,’ observed Clerke. ‘There is no shade here.’ The others nodded, grateful for their tricorns. The island appeared to be almost entirely treeless. Its undulating landscape was strewn with volcanic rocks, giving it a barren aspect. There were no streams, no lakes. And even the hills which rose to the south of the island were without foliage.
The Resolutions walked through Hangaroa, which consisted of a few simple houses surrounded by plots of sweet potatoes, sugar cane and plantains. They then walked inland, a group of natives trailing after them. A mile further on they came upon a broad platform of flat stones, upon which stood a statue of a human, 20 feet high, facing out to sea. It was elongated, and blackened with age. Evidently carved from volcanic rock, its head was crowned with a round topknot of reddish stone. Hitihiti ascertained from the islanders with them that the statue was called an ‘ahu moai’, and that it was just one of many on the island. Around the north coast of the island there were dozens of such gigantic statues, Hitihiti was told, all facing the ocean. Hodges immediately unpacked his equipment, set up his easel and began to draw the statue, watched with intense curiosity by the islanders.
‘Ask these people where they came from,’ James said to Hitihiti.
Several of them pointed to the north-west with dramatic gestures. ‘Other islands,’ Hitihiti explained, ‘which they call Te Henua o Enata. Many years ago.’
James nodded. It must have been long ago. These people appeared to have no double-hul
led voyaging canoes, as the Otaheitians had. If they came from the north-east, could it have been from the islands discovered by the Spaniard Mendana in 1595? The ones he called the Marquesas?
As James and his party moved further inland, the heat intensified. There was no wind, and the sun beat down on them ferociously. After another hour of walking across the desolate landscape, James’s gut cramps began to return. It was as if a cruelly powerful fist was gripping, then releasing, his intestines. Sweat pouring from his brow, panting, he sank to the ground. ‘I can go no further,’ he said to the others, ‘I’ll return to the ship.’ When they looked at him worriedly, he waved his hand. ‘Go on, I’ll be all right.’ Slowly, painfully, he made his way back to the landing place, cursing the affliction that was weakening him.
Rousing himself for supper that night, James called the officers and gentlemen together. Hodges had several sketches of the island, and especially the moai, which he displayed for the assembly. The others nodded approvingly. The artist’s ability to capture the island’s brooding sky, overlooking the stern moai and the rocky landscape, was remarkable. Hitihiti then showed the others a prize he had bartered for, a cap fashioned from dogskin and embellished with purple-green, iridescent feathers from a great frigatebird. Placing it on his head, he said eagerly, ‘This will make me many friends when I return to Bora Bora.’
Over brandies, James announced: ‘We will not tarry at this island, gentlemen. It has little to offer us. We will complete the provisioning on the morrow, and repairs to our sails, then continue northwards the day after.’
Johann Forster looked askance. ‘So soon? We have only just arrived.’ He waved his hands in frustration. ‘My son and I have not explored the east of the island, or the north. There will be many specimens to collect—’
James cut him off. ‘The place is barren, and of little use to us. The water is mostly brackish. We will barter for more bananas, sugar cane, sweet potatoes and poultry, stow these provisions, then weigh anchor.’
‘Bound for where, sir? Otaheite?’ Pickersgill suggested hopefully.
‘Not immediately. We will first proceed to the islands Mendana discovered in 1595, and which have been charted with many variations by the Spanish. I intend to chart them with Royal Navy accuracy.’ His eyes swept the group. ‘Any questions, gentlemen?’
Forster stared at the table sulkily. James pushed back his chair. ‘That is all. We will quit this place in 48 hours.’ As he got to his feet, he faltered, and winced. The cramps in his gut were beginning again.
On their last day at anchor off the island, with the sails still hanging from the yards to dry and the pinnace ferrying supplies from shore to ship, three men and a young woman swam out to Resolution and climbed up the hull steps. Two of the men were in their 30s, stout and muscular; the other was younger, slender and willowy, with feminine features. The woman was about 18, short and sturdy, with an oval face and dark eyes. Her wet hair was long and draped over her shoulders. All four islanders had extensive tattoos on their arms and legs, and wore skirts of bark cloth. The men seemed intensely curious about the ship, and Hitihiti took it upon himself to show them over the decks, then took them below for a tour of the holds.
The young woman showed little interest in the ship and instead stared at the men on deck duty. These included able seamen Blackburn, Atkinson and Collett, who were greasing the blocks with pork fat. Under the ferocious sun, the men were shirtless and barefoot, their backs pink. Collett returned the gaze of the woman, who was standing at the mid-deck rail. She smiled coquettishly at him. Collett grinned, then turned and went below. He reappeared with a piece of Friendly Isles bark cloth, and offered it to her. She smiled again, showing perfect white teeth, and took the cloth. Placing it on the deck, she then undid her skirt, lay down on the deck and opened her legs. Collett immediately whipped off his breeches, fell between her legs, mounted her and began rutting furiously. Spent just seconds later, he rolled off her, but she remained supine, her legs apart. Eyes glittering with lust, Blackburn and Atkinson ran below and reappeared moments later, Blackburn with a crayon and Atkinson with a nail. Elbowing Atkinson aside, Blackburn handed the woman the crayon. She snatched it jubilantly, then pulled the donor down onto her. Face buried between her breasts, loins heaving for just a minute, Blackburn entered her, came with a cry, then rolled away. He was immediately replaced by Atkinson, who pressed his nail into the woman’s hand, knelt between her still-open legs and entered her roughly. He lasted just three strokes before bellowing with pleasure, then falling aside.
As the woman got to her feet, her male companions emerged from below. She wiped between her legs with her skirt, then carefully wrapped the crayon and nail in the bark cloth Collett had given her. Smiling mischievously, she looked up at the quarterdeck, where George Forster and Clerke had observed the swift, mechanical coupling. The three seamen, chests glistening with sweat, got to their feet, laughing. Then the woman and the three men climbed back down the hull steps, slipped into the sea and began to swim back to shore, the woman lying on her back, kicking strongly, holding her trophies high over her head in her right hand.
Shaking his head in disgust, George Forster said to Clerke, ‘Debauchery, utter debauchery. That woman could challenge the feats of Messalina.’
Clerke pouted. ‘Who?’
‘Messalina. A Roman empress. She fornicated with 25 men in one night, in a competition with a prostitute.’
‘Really?’ Clerke looked thoughtful. ‘I agree, that vahine would give the Roman empress a run for her money.’ He grinned. ‘You weren’t tempted to join the queue yourself were you, young Forster? I’m sure Easter Island’s Messalina would have been able to accommodate you as well.’
George turned away, his face crimson.
A few feet below them, oblivious to everything on deck above, James lay in his berth, drenched with sweat, his insides cramping, trying to muffle his groans.
Twenty-two
25 MARCH 1774
Dearest Elizabeth,
At last I can again put quill to paper, after being mostly confined to my berth this last week. How I detest being ill! The biliousness returned even before we left Easter Island, rendering me immobile. It was no consolation to learn that others of the ship’s company were similarly afflicted, including our surgeon Patten and astronomer Wales. Again it was dog broth which assuaged our symptoms. With uncharacteristic consideration, Johann Forster prevailed upon his son George to forfeit his Otaheitian canine, Jemima. The creature was subsequently killed, rendered into nourishing soup in the galley and served to the several of us who were suffering from the colic. I am now feeling stronger, though I still cannot stand for long periods. Lieutenant Cooper has again deputed for me reliably.
We are presently bound for the islands the Spaniard Mendana discovered in 1595 and named Las Islas de Marquesa de Mendoza, in short ‘the Marquesas’. They lie just ten degrees south of the equator, approximately. It is my hope that the islands will provide good sustenance for us, as Easter Island was largely sterile. Fortunately we are now propelled by favourable winds from the south-east, and the temperatures are constantly mild. In these conditions we are able to make as much as 50 nautical miles daily.
The men have succeeded in catching a number of flying fish, which have provided a welcome variation in our diet. James and Nathaniel would find the catching of these creatures great fun. The men hold burning rag torches above the railings and the fish are drawn irresistibly to their light. They really do fly, their airborne bodies sweeping up and over the railings and onto the deck, where they lie flapping and are readily collected. When they are fried they make delicious eating, notwithstanding the fact that they have many bones.
For you and the children springtime will now have arrived, and has doubtless been welcomed by all. I can picture your roses in bloom, adorning the garden wall, and robins and blackbirds in the apple tree. I hope the boys’ frogs are well and producing another clutch of tadpoles. Nan the much-travelled goat will be control
ling the grass and providing the household with milk. I wonder if you have heard from Christiana, with news of my father, and Margaret and her family in Redcar. How I miss you all, and England!
It is my hope that we will sight the Marquesas Islands by early April, and that they will prove suitable for our needs. In the meantime, I remain,
Your loving husband,
James
The first island—a steep-sided, forested spike of land—was sighted from the masthead by able seaman Hood on 6 April. When he returned to the deck James told him, ‘We’ll name it Hood Island.’ The seaman grinned delightedly.
Cooper said, pointedly, ‘The island’s named on Mendana’s chart as Sant Pedro, Captain.’ He, the other officers and James had studied Mendana’s charts closely the previous day in the Great Cabin.
Scope up to his eye again, James replied coolly, ‘That was 179 years ago, Cooper. It is my prerogative to rename it after an Englishman.’
As Hood Island looked unsuitable for a landing, they continued on their north-westerly course. The next day they saw another island, this one so high that its peaks were covered in cloud. James, Cooper, Clerke and Wales stared at it from the quarterdeck. It was late morning, a violent squall had just passed, and graphite clouds were moving away to the west. Scope to his eye, Cooper was awed by the sight. ‘Those mountains, those forests,’ he murmured. ‘They surpass even those of Otaheite.’
‘Aye,’ said James, staring through his own scope. ‘And from Mendana’s account, that must be the one he called Dominica.’
The island was indeed huge, rising steeply from the sea to a series of jagged mountains, hundreds of feet high. Their slopes were entirely covered in forest, while ranks of coconut palms marked the zone where the coastal plain met the sea. Clerke said, his tone puzzled, ‘I can see no reef, Captain, or at least no breaking waves which would mark a reef.’