by Graeme Lay
The performance took place on Lifuka’s western shore. Finau gestured for his warriors to come forward, and rank upon rank of them obeyed. There were about 200 in all, athletic young men in leaf skirts whose arms and shoulders glistened with coconut oil. At Finau’s command they launched into an unmisteakably violent dance, perfectly choreographed and accompanied by guttural cries and the waving of paddle-like weapons of carved wood. Finau led them from the front, stomping his feet, waving his arms and exhorting the men behind him to become even more aggressive.
Watching this belligerence, James felt uneasy. Were they about to attack? If so, the Englishmen would be hugely outnumbered. The marines could not hope to repel such numbers with their muskets.
As the war dance became more frenzied and threatening, James called over the gunners, Anderson and Peckover. He said quietly, ‘You brought the fireworks?’
‘Yes.’ Anderson pointed to the crates that held them.
‘Good. Set them up now and let them go. Start with the water-rockets.’
The war dance ended. The warriors were panting, but still wielding their clubs. Finau’s eyes seemed afire as he stared at the Englishmen, seemingly on the verge of ordering his men to attack, taking no notice of what the gunners were doing. They worked quickly, removing the water rockets from the crates, setting them in the ground in a line and pointing them at the lagoon.
Diverted now by this activity, the Lifukans fell silent. What were these strange devices?
‘Let them go!’ James ordered.
The flints were worked, the fuses lit. The rockets shot into the air, then plunged into the lagoon. Seconds later they emerged from the water, accompanied by explosions that lit up the now-dark sky. The Lifukans gasped and held up their hands. Weapons that exploded under water! And lit up the night!
‘Now the sky rockets,’ James ordered.
The gunners again set the rockets in the sand, in a long line. The islanders looked on in stunned silence. Then, one by one, the fuses were lit. The rockets soared into the sky then burst into blossoms of brilliantly coloured light. Again the Lifukans shook their heads in wonder. Was there anything that these Papalangi were not capable of?
There was no attack. Instead, lavish feasting began and continued for most of the night.
Over the next few days, now confident of their security, the Resolutions and Discoveries thoroughly explored the long island. Lifuka’s only high land lay on its eastern side, and that rose to barely 40 feet above the sea. It had well-formed trails and carefully nurtured yam and banana plantations. The island’s leaders lived in elegantly constructed, oval-shaped houses thatched with palm leaves, with woven mats for walls which could be lowered or raised according to the weather conditions. The landscape and houses were drawn by Webber, who hiked around the island lugging his materials, and Lifuka was surveyed meticulously by Bligh, whose face turned as pink as a cat’s tongue from the sun.
On 8 June a large, double-hulled canoe with lateen sails glided into the bay where the two sloops lay at anchor. After the canoe drew up on the beach, a very fat, middle-aged man stepped ashore. He had a creased forehead, a receding hairline and dewlaps that were so slumped he was virtually neckless. Encased in many woven mats, and accompanied by a substantial retinue, he clearly possessed great authority. Through his spyglass, James saw that even Finau bowed his head as the large man came ashore.
‘Find out who he is,’ James instructed Omai.
When he returned he told James in an awed voice, ‘His name is Paulaho. He is the Tu’i Tonga. The islands’ sacred chief.’
Sixteen
14 JUNE 1777
Dearest Elizabeth,
I am on the island of Tongatapu, the largest of the Friendly Isles, the one named Amsterdam by Abel Tasman. You may recall that I also stayed here on my second voyage, on the way back to New Zealand. With contrary winds thwarting our intention to make the Society Islands, we have instead spent several weeks in the Friendly Isles. I have made contact again with the local chief Ataongo, who was so kind to me on my earlier visit. Our reunion was a happy one.
However, Ataongo is but a minor chief of this island, I have now learned. The supreme spiritual leader of all these islands is a very fat man called Paulaho, known to his subjects as the Tu’i Tonga. He welcomed us to the island with a kava ceremony, in which we shared this special drink with him in his fine house, then feasted on yams and pork. It is unsurprising that the Tu’i Tonga is so bloated, as his subjects continually bring him tributes in the form of food, which he is obliged to eat. There is here a special dish consisting of bananas, sweet potatoes and coconut cream, mashed together, then baked in an earth oven. Although delicious, it explains Paulaho’s great size. Notwithstanding, he is an intelligent fellow who shows great interest in our expedition and in English society as I have described it and as Omai has translated for him. When I told him about King George and his palaces, Paulaho looked very thoughtful, and it was my impression that he envisaged such a life for himself. He has dined with me several times in the Great Cabin, and has taken a liking to our wine as much as we enjoy his kava, which induces a mellow feeling rather than intoxication.
We have set up our equipment on the eastern shore of Tongatapu, near Paulaho’s village capital, called Mu’a. It is most agreeable, the land level and sheltered, the temperatures at this time of year—the dry season—not excessively hot. We have erected our tents and the observatory, and the farm animals have been brought ashore. The wonder of the natives when our cattle, horses, goats and sheep were landed was something to behold. These were followed by the peacocks, geese and turkeys, which prompted further incredulity.
In spite of our warm welcome, and the brisk trading for provisions which ensued, there have been further outbreaks of theft. This enrages me. Even increasing the punishment to four dozen lashes does not deter the thieves, probably because their beefy bodies enable them to absorb the flogging better than our much leaner selves.
Slackness has set in among my men, as is usually the case when they are ashore. I have sentenced eight of them to a flogging during this stay, for disobedience, insolence or neglect of duty. They also fornicate with the island’s women, who are generous with their favours when plied with nails or squares of linen. Anderson has reported that some of the men are suffering from the venereals, and they are confined to the ship, but I fear that the infections will prove endemic. This I deeply regret.
I am extremely fatigued. The cause is a lack of sleep. I am fortunate if I am unawake for three hours a night—this is being written by lamplight at three in the morning. I also suffer anxiety about the voyage, especially concerned that we cannot seek the North-east Passage until the summer of next year. Many of the men grumble about the time we have spent in the Friendly Isles, knowing that I have already been here and surveyed several of them. Paulaho and Finau (another local chief, and a clever but scheming fellow, in my estimation) have told us of another island group about four days’ sailing to the north-west of here, a group which they call Fid-gee. Hearing this, some of my officers expressed the view that we should sail there and survey them, but I refused. Paulaho has told us that the people of the Fid-gee islands are inveterate cannibals who devour anyone they consider their enemies, especially outsiders. As doubtless we would be considered. After the dreadful episode at Grass Cove, I refuse to risk another episode of that nature.
Yesterday, before a crowd which had assembled to witness it, I presented Paulaho with a bull, a cow and two goats. I gave Finau a horse and a mare and another chief, Maealiuaki, received two ewes and a ram. I then instructed Omai to explain that these animals must not be killed until they have mated and reproduced. Which he did with many lewd miming postures, precipitating much hilarity among the onlookers. Will they follow these instructions? It is my fervent hope that they do, and given the shrewd intelligence of their chiefs, it is likely that they will.
I will snuff out the candles now, Beth, and hope that sleep will follow. It is made more diffic
ult, however, by the belly-ache that has returned, and a pain in my right foot and leg that is deeply unpleasant. But I cannot let these afflictions distract me from my sworn duties.
Shortly we will complete our provisioning and set sail for the Society Islands, in the hope that the winds will prove favourable. I trust that the London summer is proving agreeable to you and little Hugh. The boy was much in my thoughts three weeks ago, on the occasion of his first birthday.
My love, as always,
James
The thieving was now worse than ever, chiefs as well as commoners being among the offenders. When the culprits were caught James ordered them lashed with up to four dozen strokes of the cat. Their backs were flayed, the blood streamed. But this proved no deterrent. The stealing continued.
While floggings—of recalcitrant crew members as well as thieving natives—became regular, the repairing and provisioning of the sloops went on. As did the traditional routines of the Friendly Islanders, apparently unaffected by the presence of the visitors. Late June, Omai told James, was an important time of the year. This was the season called Mataliki, when the seed-yam tubers were cut and planted, a procedure accompanied by much ritual.
One night James and astronomer Bayly lay side-by-side on Resolution’s after deck, staring at the cloudless night sky through their scopes. Rolling gently, the sloop was bare-poled, allowing them a clear view of the brilliant sweep of the Milky Way, the shimmering Southern Cross and a cluster of bright stars just above the western horizon. Bayly said excitedly, ‘Pleiades, the Seven Sisters.’
‘Yes. I’ve observed them in mid-winter at home, but I’ve never seen them as bright as this.’
They both trained their scopes on the star cluster. Bayly sighed with delight. ‘Marvellous, the night skies in this hemisphere.’
‘Indeed. And the Pleiades stars are so close together. Like a frozen firework.’
Bayly sat up. ‘I was reading a paper on them by the Reverend John Michell, published about ten years ago. Do you know it?’
‘I do. He theorises that the proximity of the seven stars to one another means that they must be related. Astronomically, he means.’ James kept his scope trained on the cluster. ‘Hence the name Seven Sisters.’
‘Yes. And here the Pleiades’ arrival indicates to the islanders that their winter solstice has arrived and the season of growth is coming. That’s how they know to plant their yams at this time. The stars are their calendar.’
‘And their sea charts,’ James reminded him. ‘Tupaia used to tell me how the South Sea people use the stars for ocean navigation.’
Both men put their scopes aside, but kept staring upwards at the vast carpet of the cosmos, the brilliance of the stars making them seemingly close enough to touch. The lagoon water lapped gently against Resolution’s hull, the moon was a shining sickle away to the east, phosphorescence brightened the water like white fire. The profiles of palm trees were silhouetted against the sky and from the edge of the lagoon came the plaintive call of a wading bird. For the first time in weeks, James felt at peace. If only it could always be like this, he thought.
Their stay on Tongatapu coincided with another significant event. Omai reported to James and Clerke that Paulaho would soon announce that one of his sons, a lad called Fatafehi, would be the one to succeed him as Tu’i Tonga.
Paulaho brought the boy out to Resolution, and James and Clerke took the pair down to the Great Cabin. Fatafehi was tall and strongly built, with an oval face and almond eyes. Wrapped in many mats, he wore a necklace of boars’ tusks and displayed an unmistakeably noble bearing. When James and Clerke shook his hand and gave the heir their blessing, Paulaho beamed, knowing that this would greatly increase the lad’s mana with the people.
Almost the entire population of Tongatapu gathered at the island’s ceremonial ground at Mu’a for the announcement of the succession and Fatafehi’s presentation to the people. James and all his officers attended, and Webber sat under the palms to one side, sketching the scene. The drumming, chanting and dancing went on all afternoon and into the night. Most enchanting for the ships’ crews was the singing and dancing of the young women. Wrapped in woven mats decorated with red feathers, their raven hair was piled upon their heads, held in place with combs of turtle shell and decorated with plumes of multi-coloured feathers. The girls danced in lines, moving in perfect harmony, hips swaying, shoulders glossy with coconut oil. They smiled coquettishly at the sailors who sat on the ground before them, enraptured by their performance and staring hungrily at their glistening bodies.
Although the dancers’ upper bodies dipped and twisted in unison, it was their hands that were especially captivating. Raised high, they traced slow, eloquent patterns in the air, moving back and forth, back and forth, in perfect time with those on either side of them, while every dancer maintained a smile that showed her bright white teeth. At the end of every phase of the dance the women gave a sudden flick of their heads, and a teasing cry, followed by another joyous smile.
‘So graceful,’ said King to James admiringly. ‘And in perfect harmony.’
‘Yes. Quite different from the dancers of Otaheite. Not so frantic.’
‘Their hand movements are hypnotic.’
James nodded. The dancers were indeed a wonderful sight. Paulaho had told him they were chosen entirely from the eiki class, and as he watched their seductive performance he remembered again the beautiful Foa, who had been offered to him on Annamoka and was now the wife of a chief. Lucky man, James thought.
He was also aware that his ships’ companies had a status of their own to uphold. To demonstrate that the Papalangi too were capable of ceremony, the following day James ordered the marines to display their drills and fire musket volleys. The drums, fifes and horns were also played.
The islanders looked at these displays with a mild amusement that bordered on indifference. James sensed their thoughts as they watched the marines: The sounds these Papalangi make are feeble. So when night fell he ordered the gunners to set off the water rockets and sky rockets. The huge crowd exclaimed at this rowdy, colourful spectacle.
But still the thieving did not stop. When a young goat and two turkeys were reported missing from the pens ashore, James again fumed. ‘Seize their canoes!’ he shouted at Ewin and Doyle.
There were three canoes anchored alongside Resolution. After they were lashed to the ship, James was rowed ashore with a party of marines. Finding Paulaho and Finau in the chiefly house, he ordered the marines to hold them there until the stolen creatures were returned. With bayonets drawn, they did so. The people watching cried out in alarm at the detention of their revered Tu’i Tonga and Tu’i Kanokupolu. A group of warriors, wielding spears, looked threatening. But Paulaho himself remained calm, sitting cross-legged on the mat floor of his house, regarding the marines with silent contempt. Meanwhile Finau grinned, knowing that his people were really in control.
The reality of the situation cooled James’s temper. He invited the chiefs back to the ship to take lunch with him, and they accepted. Although the meal was taken good-naturedly, James insisted the stolen animals be returned. ‘Get them brought back!’ he ordered as they left the ship.
‘Io,’ Paulaho replied. ‘Yes.’
Later that day the goat and one of the turkeys was returned, the two chiefs promising the second would be brought back to the ship the next day. It was, and the canoes were released. However, tension remained in the air. The ships’ crews had made great demands on the people of Tongatapu for their hogs, root crops and plantains, and as it was not now the growing season, their own food supplies were running short. Resentment of the Papalangi’s sense of entitlement was growing among the villagers. Some of the Englishmen, including Bligh, were assaulted and robbed after gathering fruit, and a boy ran off with Williamson’s musket.
The officer immediately went to Finau and asked him to negotiate for the weapon’s return, giving him nails as an offering. The chief accepted the nails, but was non-committal abo
ut the musket.
Williamson, thin-lipped and furious, approached James on the quarterdeck. ‘My musket has not been returned though I have given the chief gifts.’
James regarded him coolly. Williamson was arrogant in his dealings with the natives, and Finau’s hospitality must not be jeopardised. ‘I have told the chief he can keep your weapon,’ James said mildly.
Williamson looked astonished. ‘Why?’ He spat the word out.
‘I was told that you and Bligh took produce from the villagers at gunpoint.’ He frowned. ‘You cannot treat this island as if it belongs to you. It does not. We must pay a fair price for what we take. And in this case, the price is your musket.’
‘Do I have no redress in this matter?’
‘No.’
Williamson’s eyes narrowed. ‘But if a mere nail is stolen by a native, he is given two dozen lashes or more. My musket is stolen and it is allowed to be kept. Does that seem fair?’
James looked straight into Williamson’s furious face. ‘Yes. And there will be no more roaming about the island. The chiefs have told me that your safety cannot be guaranteed if you do. I suggest you stay on board from now on.’
Williamson’s expression darkened. ‘I cannot understand why we are lingering in these thieving islands. I’ve been told that there are others, north-west of here, which are large and heavily populated. Why do we not sail there and claim them?’
‘Those are the Fid-gee islands, inhabited by natives who are dedicated cannibals, the most ferocious, man-eating natives in the whole South Sea, Paulaho has informed me. Do you expect me to put my men at such a risk?’
Williamson made no reply. Instead he spun about, fists balled, and went down the companionway. Watching him go, James thought, That one is definitely a troublemaker.
Relations with the people of Tongatapu continued to worsen. They began to mock and deride the sailors. Some threw stones at them. The shore-camp sentries were instructed to fire small shot only if they were threatened with attack, but a native attempting the theft of a carpenter’s adze was shot in the shoulder by a marine with a musket ball. A group of officers then had coconuts hurled at them. Irate at this mockery, the marines seized the attackers, one of whom was a servant of Paulaho’s, and brought them to the encampment.
