James Cook’s Lost World

by Graeme Lay

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Family considerations.’

  Stephens made no comment on this. Instead he came closer and said, ‘I thought you would probably need time to give the idea more thought. That’s why I felt obliged to let you know before the Admiralty made you an official offer. I thought I should forewarn you and give you the time for the fullest consideration of this matter.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And for the time being, it must be one of complete confidence between us. Only the Admiralty, the Royal Society principals and the King are aware of the proposed voyage. And no word of their intentions must reach the ears of our political rivals. The French, especially. Or the Spanish, or the Russians.’

  James laughed drily. ‘But how could such a voyage be kept a secret? Mounting another expedition to the Pacific will surely become common knowledge. It’s already known that Resolution is being overhauled, and that another collier has been bought by the Navy Board as a consort vessel for her.’

  Stephens gave him a smug smile. ‘I’ve thought of that.’ He strolled across to the fireplace. With his back again to the grate he said, ‘It will be put about that the raison d’être for another Royal Navy South Sea voyage is to return the Society Isles native Omai to his homeland.’

  In the hackney on the way home James’s mind churned like an ebbing tide against a rising wind. What Stephens had told him was, strictly speaking, out of turn. The word should have come first from Sandwich. As on previous occasions, Stephens had taken James into his confidence because of the significance of the proposed venture. Furthermore, he completely sympathised with the secretary’s instruction that no word of the voyage’s real intention be disclosed to anyone. Several European nations wanted to discover a sea pathway from the Atlantic to the Pacific. And with the recent improvements in navigation—in particular the ability to fix longitude precisely and the overcoming of scurvy through a strict dietary regime—James knew that long voyages might from now on be less hazardous.

  Moreover, Stephens’s suggestion that he lead such an expedition was gratifying. Certainly, the thought of Furneaux, who had proved inadequate as a commander of Adventure, or hot-tempered Gore, who more than once had incurred James’s wrath while on the Endeavour voyage, as leader of an expedition to the North Pacific dismayed him. Even Dick Pickersgill, loyal lieutenant as he had proved himself, would be unsuitable for the commander’s role. He was a follower, a competent one, but not a leader. Stephens was right. There was only one man with the capabilities to lead such an expedition, and that was himself.

  The hackney came in sight of the river, but for once James was not distracted by its water-borne traffic. The more he thought about the possibility of leading this ambitious voyage, the more he felt it was right for him. To discover and chart a North-east Passage would be the crowning achievement of his naval career. It would eclipse the discoveries and surveys of his second voyage. It would compensate for the disappointment of finding that a Great Southern Continent did not exist. And the commander’s share of £20,000 would amount to a fortune.

  What had to be weighed in the balance was the risks. The possibility that an opening to the Arctic Sea could be closed again by adverse weather. The fact that the western coast of North America had as yet been charted only cursorily. The challenges for such an expedition’s commanders and crew would be colossal. And there were his own health concerns. He had suffered illness during the second voyage. Could his ageing body withstand the privations that would inevitably be part of a third?

  He stared out the window of the hackney, which was passing the Tower of London’s grim ramparts. Then there were the other considerations. Personal ones. He had told Elizabeth that he had done with voyaging. If that decision were reversed, how would she feel about his departure once more from hearth and home when there was another child coming? Due in May, she had been told. So he would not be here for the birth of this one, either. And the voyage would mean another absence that could not be less than three years. That prospect could hardly be welcomed by her.

  The cab reached Assembly Row. As James climbed down and paid the driver, he saw Elizabeth outside the house. Bonneted and shawled against the cold, her ankle boots muddy, she was cleaning the parlour windows with a cloth. He gave her a hug then scolded, ‘You should not be doing such tasks in your condition, Beth. Leave it to Susan. Or Nathaniel.’

  She sighed. ‘Unless I do it myself, it’s never done properly.’ She stepped back. ‘But it’s done now.’ Sighing, she put a hand on her stomach. ‘How was your meeting with Stephens?’

  He looked away. ‘Oh, satisfactory. Nothing important.’

  Four

  HE RECEIVED THE OFFICIAL SUMMONS ON 20 January and the meeting was held a week later, in the Admiralty’s board room. It was presided over by the Earl of Sandwich, and the others in attendance were Stephens, Viscounts Palmerston and Lisbourne, Lord Charles Spencer, Lord Mulgrave, and James’s supporter and naval colleague, Sir Hugh Palliser, now Comptroller of the Navy. All were wigged and dressed in their full dress regalia, complete with shoulder boards, sashes and swords.

  When James entered they shook his hand and greeted him with deference. ‘Captain’, ‘Captain’, ‘Captain.’ Around the walls of the room, portraits of distinguished first Sea Lords past—among them the Earl of Berkeley, Sir John Norris, Sir Charles Wager and the Duke of Bedford—peered down with seeming interest in the proceedings below.

  Greetings over, James took his place where Stephens indicated, at one end of the table. Looking around at the others, he reflected that he would once have been nervy in this company. Now he sensed that the situation was reversed. The navy dignitaries seemed almost apprehensive in his presence, glancing at him but avoiding his eyes. Was this, he wondered, because he had achieved far more than they ever had? He was aware that none of these lords had ever been south of the equator, let alone beyond the Antarctic Circle. And they certainly never would. He couldn’t help feeling disdain for most of these bigwigs, combined with satisfaction at the position he now found himself in.

  Only Palliser, seated to James’s right, looked completely at ease. He and James had an understanding through their shared history in the service. The comptroller had first gone to sea at the age of 11, and like James had fought in sea battles against the French. He had also been instrumental in getting James the leadership of the Endeavour expedition eight years ago. James had never forgotten Palliser’s loyal support. The navy’s comptroller knew full well what James thought of lubberly officials, and shared his contempt for them.

  James’s gaze alighted on Sandwich, who was applying pinches of snuff to his nostrils. Florid, his big chin jutting out like a ship’s bow, the First Sea Lord was a man who wielded enormous authority. But to James he looked incapable of launching a model yacht on a village pond.

  Sandwich gave a great sneeze, closed his snuff box, then blew his nose on a silk handkerchief. Looking around at his colleagues, he declared, ‘We will now commence with the business of the day.’

  An air of silent expectation settled upon the room. Alongside Sandwich, Stephens’s quill was poised.

  Staring down at his notes, the First Sea Lord began. ‘It is proposed by the Admiralty, with the support of the King and the Royal Society, that the ship HMS Resolution and its consort vessel, HMS Discovery, should set forth from Plymouth Sound no later than April of this year, in search of a passage from the North Pacific Ocean through to the North Atlantic. The two sloops will sail to the Pacific by way of Madeira, Cape Town, New Zealand and Otaheite. While in the Society Islands the expedition will return the native Omai to his home island, Hua … Hua …’

  James leaned forward. ‘Hoo-a-hee-nay, my Lord. Omai’s birth island is actually neighbouring Raiatea, but he now calls the island of Huahine his home.’

  Sandwich grunted. ‘Yes. Hoo-ahee-nay. Damnably hard to pronounce, these Indian names. Now, where was I?’

  ‘In the vicinity of Otaheite, my Lord,’ Stephens
prompted.

  ‘Yes.’ He consulted his notes. ‘From Otaheite the expedition will sail into the northern Pacific Ocean to reach that region by June 1777, pausing only to chart any previously undiscovered lands that it may encounter. The expedition will then coast the western littoral of New Albion, discovered by the great Sir Francis Drake in 1579. His Majesty’s ships will thereafter pass through the Bering Strait and into the sea to its north, then seek a passage eastward, through the Arctic Ocean to the northern Atlantic. The commander of the two ships will be our nation’s greatest living navigator, Captain James Cook.’ He paused and inclined his head towards James.

  Sandwich continued with the details. In consultation with the Admiralty, James was to select the officers for the two ships, which would also carry a company of marines. Since the refitting of Discovery would be completed within two months, it was hoped that the departure target of early April would be met. After each pronouncement, the heads of the other lords nodded in approbation, while Stephens wrote rapidly. Then James was invited to speak.

  He got to his feet and placed his knuckles on the table. ‘My Lords, as you are aware, I returned from my latest circumnavigation last July, having disproved the existence of a Great Southern Continent and claimed a number of hitherto undiscovered islands for our sovereign. Since then I have been occupied with writing my account of Resolution’s voyage. All of us are aware of the benefits that would accrue to England were it to be established that there is a navigable passage joining the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans.’ The wigged heads nodded vigorously. ‘Even if such a passage would only be navigable during the months of high summer. I am determined to seek, and find, such a passage, and I deem it an honour that your lordships have again shown faith in me to lead such an expedition. I hereby accept your commission.’

  He sat down to applause. Palliser smiled and nodded his approval. Sandwich wiped his nose again, then said, ‘Planning for the voyage will begin immediately.’ He glanced around, as if expecting to see an eavesdropper. ‘But no details of its primary objective are to be discussed with anyone other than those present here. The President of the Royal Society, Sir John Pringle, and his committee are also bound to keep the expedition’s principal motive a secret. It will be put about that the voyage is solely for the repatriation of the Indian Omai to Hoo-a … Hoo-a … to that island previously mentioned.’ He got to his feet. ‘That will be all, gentlemen. We shall meet here again at the same time next week to discuss further aspects of the expedition. One that will open a new sea route to the East, and bring great wealth to our nation.’

  James was delivered home by coach late that afternoon. He removed his boots, hung up his tricorn and went inside. Elizabeth was sitting in one of the wingback chairs in front of the fire, crocheting woollen squares for a baby rug. She had bought the wool from a haberdashery in Wapping, short leftover lengths in many different hues: mauve, yellow, green, red, blue. The result was a series of multi-coloured squares, each about four inches wide, which she would then sew together. Through the deft ministrations of her crochet hook, the rug grew larger and more varied in colour by the day. Now it covered her knees while she worked at a square of pale blue. She wore her blue-and-white checked gown; her hair hung loose.

  James kissed her, then sat down in the other wingchair. The chairs were luxury items for the parlour, upholstered in red-and-blue striped material and bought in the city, partly from the proceeds of James’s Resolution voyage salary.

  Gripping the arms of his chair, James summarised the meeting at the Admiralty, speaking slowly and carefully but providing no details of the proposed voyage.

  Clutching the crochet hook and wool, Elizabeth stared at him, eyes fixed with disbelief. She made an attempt to speak, but was unable to. Meeting her rigid look, James added calmly, ‘I know this has come as a surprise to you, Beth, but—’

  She found her voice. ‘A surprise? No, not a surprise. A shock.’ Her head making little shaking movements, she continued, falteringly, ‘You were done with voyaging, you said. You were finished with the sea, you said. You needed to be with me and our children from now on, you said.’ The last two words were fired as an accusation that rang in his ears, like a tolling bell. You said, you said, you said.

  He waited for some time before replying, and when he spoke he looked at her directly and unapologetically. ‘I know what I have said, Beth, and those words were sincere when I spoke them. But circumstances change, and when they do, a different course of action must be taken.’ He intertwined his fingers. ‘It was not planned that way, it was not what I originally anticipated. But unforeseen circumstances have arisen, a call has been made, and it is my duty to follow it.’

  ‘What duty is more important than your role as husband and father?’ Her voice was ice-cold, her words like splinters.

  Stalling for time, he said, ‘You have every right to ask that question.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘And I have an obligation to answer it.’

  She raised her chin a fraction, defiantly, but did not reply. Interpreting this as consent to continue, he told her more of what had been discussed at the meeting, and of the offer that had been made to him. Then he leaned back, hands gripping the arms of the chair, and waited.

  ‘Three years,’ she said, distantly. ‘Another three years.’ Shock was still evident in her fixed stare and heaving bosom.

  ‘Yes, if the aim of the voyage is to be accomplished.’

  ‘And when does this voyage begin?’ Her voice was now little more than a murmur.

  ‘April.’

  Placing one hand on her stomach, she said, ‘April. This baby is due in May. Another child who will not know its father.’

  He was at a loss as to how to respond to this.

  She closed her eyes. ‘Here one day, gone the next.’ She seemed to be growing wearier by the minute. ‘And from now until your ships leave, no doubt you will be preoccupied. No doubt Nathaniel and I will again hardly see you.’

  ‘There will be the usual meetings, yes. Necessarily. But between them I will be here.’

  Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped. She said quietly, ‘Why are you doing this to me, James?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why are you leaving your family again? When you said you would not?’

  He said, subdued, ‘I missed the sea, Beth. Far more than I first thought I would. And writing my account of Resolution’s voyage has only made my yearning worse. It has been like holding a shell to my ear and hearing the sea, constantly.’ He stared into the fire. ‘But I was reconciled to staying at Greenwich, until the Admiralty’s offer came. Then I considered it, and decided to accept command of the new expedition.’ There was another pause. ‘I could not refuse.’

  ‘That is not so. You could have refused.’

  ‘An Englishman does not refuse an order from his king.’

  ‘I thought the order came from the Admiralty.’

  ‘Yes, but with an endorsement from the King.’

  Her expression was now pleading. ‘You have officially retired. You have a generous pension. You are not obliged to go to sea again. I implore you to tell them, “I cannot go.”’

  Resenting this abrupt change of tack, he stared at her. ‘And turn down the chance to earn a share in twenty thousand pounds?’

  Elizabeth’s expression became severe. ‘I care not for money that you might or might not be rewarded with. Your present pension is satisfactory for our needs.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I know the real reason why you did not refuse the Admiralty’s offer.’ James looked up sharply. ‘It was because of your arrogance.’

  ‘Arrogance?’ The word shocked him.

  ‘Yes, arrogance.’ Her eyes bored into him, through him. ‘You have changed, James Cook. I did not wish to have to say this to you, but my hand has been forced. You are not the man you were.’

  For a moment he was speechless. Then he said, ‘Elizabeth, I don’t understand your meaning. I’ve not changed.’

&nbs
p; ‘You have, but you are unaware of it. The accolades, the tributes, the stories about you in the news-sheets, having your portrait painted. It has all led to vanity on your part.’

  This he would not have. His voice icy, he said, ‘Such tributes have been hard earned, and deserved.’

  ‘That I do not quarrel with. But as a consequence of your success you are no longer a modest man. You have become self-important.’

  ‘Elizabeth, you have not expressed this view before. Therefore I cannot accept its sincerity.’

  ‘I have not expressed it because it was not necessary to do so. But now, with your acceptance of another command that will take you away from me again, I am forced to speak.’

  ‘I don’t follow you.’

  ‘No? Then I will make myself clearer.’ She lifted her chin, and the sinews in her neck tightened. ‘You accepted the Admiralty’s offer because it appealed to your sense of pride. The Sea Lords and that adulterer Sandwich said that you were the only Englishman capable of leading such a voyage. It was vanity that made you accept. You could not refuse the Admiralty’s offer because your pride would not permit you to do so.’

  Feeling helpless in the face of this prolonged attack, James was about to attempt to rebut it when she continued. ‘I well recall your feelings about Joseph Banks and what you called his hubris on Endeavour, then afterwards back in England. The man was so full of himself, you complained, that modesty was a quality unknown to him.’ She shook her head wearily. ‘Well, you too have become afflicted with a sense of your own importance, and it is affecting your judgments. Of yourself, and of your circumstances.’

  There was a rising tide of anger in him now. Coldly he said, ‘You are speaking fancifully, Elizabeth. Name one misjudgment I have made.’

  Her riposte was immediate. ‘I will. You have a secure position at Greenwich Hospital. It is amply compensated, it allows you to write the account of your second voyage, and you are able to do so in comfort while also supporting your family. Yet you are rejecting that security in exchange for the perils of another world voyage. Because such an offer appeals to your sense of your own importance.’