by Graeme Lay
Although Paulaho appealed to James for mercy, his appeal was ignored. Furious that the marines, his upholders of order, had been attacked, James sentenced Paulaho’s servant to be tied to the trunk of a coconut palm and flogged. Seventy-two times.
Doyle’s arm dropped to his side. The cat’s bloodied, meaty tails were splayed on the ground. The bosun’s mate’s hair was matted with sweat, his upper body running with it.
James took his knife from its sheaf and handed it to Doyle. ‘Now slash his upper arms.’
Doyle blinked. ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, sir?’
‘Cut both his arms. To the bone.’ James stepped back. ‘These people must be taught a lesson.’
Doyle did so, grimacing as he made one cut, then another, across the hapless victim’s arms. Blood from the deep wounds joined the flow from his flayed back and shoulders.
The other crewmen looked on, shocked by the cutting. The man tied to the tree was whimpering, his head slumped. The watching native men looked on in horror; the women howled in anguish. Although used to being struck with clubs by their chiefs, they did not think the Papalangi would resort to this type of punishment. The sailors turned away, baffled. What was driving their captain to wreak such vengeance on one of his chiefly friend’s servants?
James wiped his knife blade on the grass, then walked away from the scene. Time to leave this place, he decided.
A few days later he wrote in his official log:
WEDNESDAY, 16 JULY 1777
Thus we took leave of the Friendly Islands and their inhabitants after a stay of between two and three months, during which time we lived together in the most cordial friendship. Some accidental differences now and again happened owing to their great propensity for thieving, but too often encouraged by the negligence of our own people. But these differences were never attended with any fatal consequences, to prevent which all my measures were directed. Also during this time we expended very little of our sea provisions but lived upon the produce of the islands; and beside them the opportunity of leaving the cattle before mentioned amongst them; those designed for Otaheite received fresh strength; so that upon the whole the advantages we received by touching here was very great, when it is considered that the season for proceeding to the north was lost before I steered for these islands.
Seventeen
11 AUGUST 1777
Dearest Beth,
We are bound again for Otaheite, having left the Friendly Isles three weeks ago. We stood at first to the southward, to take later advantage of the south-easterlies that blow steadily during this season, and now both ships are driven by favourable winds. A mishap occurred on 29 July, when a stiff squall from the north struck us. Resolution’s staysails were ruptured and Discovery’s topmast was shattered, necessitating a jury-rig, which Clerke’s men implemented competently. The mast will be replaced in Otaheite.
We have made one small discovery: an island on which we made no landing, as it lacked a suitable pass through its reef. Some natives came out in canoes and conversed with Omai. The island is called Tu-boo-ay, they told him, and I assumed it was another in the region I passed through in 1769.
My next obligations will be returning Omai to Huahine and disembarking the farm animals. But we will first call at Tahiti Iti, to obtain fresh food and water. You will recall my telling you of our near-misfortune in that vicinity three years ago, when both Resolution and Adventure came close to foundering on the reef. This time we will stand well off the island as we approach the passage at Vaitepiha, the district that Hodges depicted so splendidly in one of his oil paintings.
The ache throughout my right leg causes me great discomfort. Surgeon Anderson can do nothing to alleviate the throbbing. Observing the difficulty I was having climbing the mast a few days ago, Omai asked what was wrong. After I told him he remarked, ‘Otaheitian women will ease your pain, Captain.’ Irked by this presumption, I replied, ‘I have no intention of sleeping with the Otaheitian women, it is not my place to do so.’ He laughed, then shook his head and said, ‘No, no, I mean they will treat your leg the Otaheitian way.’ This made me even angrier and I dismissed him. If a qualified surgeon such as Anderson cannot ease my distress, how can native women possibly help?
I will end now, dearest Beth, on this somewhat negative note. The prospect of visiting Otaheite again and renewing old friendships is one that helps ease my discomforts.
My deepest love to you and our sons, as always,
James
The day before this, an easterly gale had kept them about a league away from Tahiti Iti, obliging the sloops to stand out at sea for the night. But in the morning the weather was fine and clear and the breeze had declined to a zephyr. Half a mile to larboard, the pass was a mat of flat, shiny water. On either side of the mat, reef waves rose and fell lazily. In intense heat, the helmsmen guided the ships towards the pass, Resolution leading by 50 yards.
Tahiti Iti lay before them. The crewmen who had not been here before, along with those who had, crowded the sloops’ larboard rails and rigging, transfixed by the sight. It was mid-morning, the sky was radiant blue and the mountains of the interior were in sharp focus, a gauzy mist obscuring only the very summits of the 4000-foot peaks. Dark green forests covered the mountains’ slopes entirely. A valley so sheer-sided it could have been cut by a giant’s knife sliced through the sierra. A river emerged from the valley, meandered across the coastal plain, then flowed into Vaitepiha Bay. The crews glimpsed huts among the trees and smelled the smoke which was spiralling upwards into the still morning air.
Resolution’s sails were baggy, the ship hardly moving. King joined James and Gore on the quarterdeck. Helmsmen Brown and Roberts were at the wheel in front of them; Webber was already at his easel, on the starboard side. Bligh was at the larboard rail, staring up at the sails, watching closely for any wind shifts.
King, hatless and sweating, stared at the island. In a hushed voice he said to James, ‘What a sight, sir. ’Tis beautiful beyond belief.’
James nodded. ‘Otaheite has that effect on everyone who first sees her. And even on those who have seen her before.’
‘True,’ said Gore. ‘Three times I’ve been to this island, and I can never tire of the sight.’
King murmured, ‘Those mountains, the forests …’
Canoes came through the pass towards them. The canoeists’ paddles rose and fell, rose and fell, dipping into the pale blue lagoon water. Some canoes had drummers aboard, and the rapid rat-tat-tat of their slit drums reached the ships, along with cries of ‘Taio! Taio!’ They came alongside, the paddlers’ dark brown bodies glistening with sweat and spray. Omai called down to them. ‘Maeva, maeva. Ia ora na, ia ora na.’ They looked up at him, frowning. Who was this man who dressed like the popa’a but had a brown face and spoke their language? The canoes then turned and began to escort the sloops towards the pass.
They were worked through the pass and into the bay, then after soundings were taken the anchors were lowered and the boats of both ships hoisted out.
While this was happening another canoe bearing two men came alongside Resolution. As the men came up onto the deck Omai cried out joyfully. One was round-faced, short and portly, the other much older and with unruly hair and a curly grey beard. Both wore barkcloth skirts and pendants of pearl shell; both had tiare flowers behind their ears. Omai rushed up to them then turned and looked up at James. ‘Tai is a chief. And Turo is my sister’s husband.’
But the pair looked at Omai’s clothing with some suspicion. Could he really be one of them? ‘Show them your cabin,’ James told him, ‘and present them with some of your Friendly Islands feathers.’
When they returned to the deck, both men carried a bunch of the red feathers and their expressions were ones of delight. ‘Tai wants me to be his special friend,’ Omai called up triumphantly to the officers.
Gore laughed. ‘It seems we have a new currency now to replace nails.’
James nodded. ‘A good thing, then, that we obtained plenty
of them.’
Now Omai conveyed unwelcome news. ‘Tai has told me that other European men have been living here at Tautira. They also came in two ships.’
James started. ‘What other European men?’
‘They came from a place called Rima.’
‘Rima?’ Gore frowned.
James thought for a moment, then asked, ‘Do you mean Lima?’
Omai nodded. ‘Yes, Rima.’
James looked at Gore and King meaningfully. ‘Lima, in Peru. Spaniards.’
‘They told Tai that Otaheite now belongs to them,’ Omai said anxiously.
News of the availability of red feathers spread swiftly on Tahiti Iti. Soon both ships were surrounded by canoes bearing baskets of fish, fruit and pork. The people scrambled aboard the ships, desperate to trade for the rare and precious feathers. The women prized them especially, and exchanged their bodies eagerly for just one. But as had been the case with nails from Wallis’s ship Dolphin a decade before, prices quickly escalated. A woman could at first be bought for one feather, but the price then rapidly became two, then three and then four. The couplings were swift and business-like, the women leaping to their feet immediately afterwards and brandishing their feathers jubilantly. While regretting the carnal trade, James knew it could never be stopped. Instead he instructed Anderson to check the men for symptoms of the venereals, and to forbid any who had the disease from landing on the island.
Once they disembarked, James and Omai were told of important developments that had occurred since the last English visit. The paramount chief of Tahiti Iti, young Vehiatua, was dead, and had been succeeded by his brother, a 12-year-old who also bore the name Vehiatua. Over on Tahiti Nui, old Purea, the one they had known as the Queen of Otaheite, had died. But James’s special taio, Tu, was still alive. This news heartened James. He would need Tu’s support when they moved across to Matavai Bay to have the ships overhauled and provisioned.
In the meantime, there was the vexed matter of the Spaniards’ purported annexation of Otaheite. Tai related that they had come in two large ships, not long after Resolution and Adventure’s 1774 visit. They had built a house on the island and left four men there when they sailed away. ‘Two of the men were of the church. Priests,’ he said. ‘One was the priests’ servant.’
The fourth man was called Matimo. He was a kind man, and the people of the island liked him. He learned some Otaheitian and took several of their women as his lovers. But the people did not like the priests; they had little to do with the people, and instead mostly stayed in their house. When the ships returned less than a year later, their commander was taken ill and died on the island. They would not permit the islanders to go aboard the Spanish vessels. The ships then sailed away, taking Matimo and the other Spaniards with them.
‘Where was their house?’ James asked.
‘Behind Tautira village,’ Omai said.
‘Take me there.’
James, Omai, Tai and Turo walked past village houses, through lush plantations and across the wooded plain to the plot of land the Spaniards had been given. Their mission house was surrounded by a palisade of palm trunks, many of which were now rotten. The house had slits in its walls, placed there for defensive purposes, James surmised. But the building was now in poor condition, its thatch ragged, its planking decayed. They went inside. The two rooms stank of rot and mould and the loopholes admitted little light. Although it had been abandoned, there were still items of European furniture and clothing in the two rooms.
Everything about the building reeked of a failed venture. James found this failure satisfying, but the impertinence of the Spanish angered him. How dare these piratical Papists assume ownership of a legally English island!
Outside again, relishing the fresh air, James asked Tai and Turo more questions about the Spanish settlement. They had brought animals: pigs, goats, dogs and a bull, which was still on Otaheite. James was further angered by this news. He was the one who had been destined to bring farm animals to Otaheite, not the Spaniards. And he had brought his livestock all the way from England, not just from Peru.
Outside the palisade, set into the ground, was a tall cross made from tamanu wood. Chiselled into the timber were the words Christus vincit Carolus III imperat 1774. Another attempt by the Spaniards to legitimise their false claim to sovereignty over Otaheite. ‘Take it down,’ James ordered. When they returned to Resolution that evening he instructed the carpenter, Cleveley, to chisel out the Spanish inscription and rout into the other side of the cross, in large letters, GEORGIUS TERTIUS REX ANNIS 1767, 1769, 1773, 1774 & 1777. After the cross was re-erected, James studied the new inscription with great satisfaction.
The horses they had conveyed across the world were landed on the beach at Vaitepiha Bay and taken up onto the foreshore. Omai immediately decided to give a demonstration of his equine skills to the crowd who had gathered to watch. He donned his suit of armour, placed the helmet on his head, then with Turo’s assistance mounted the stallion. His friend Burney, wearing his officer’s uniform, mounted the roan mare which had also been taken ashore. Both men wore spurs and carried primed pistols.
Already amazed at the sight of these huge, hooved creatures, the islanders were further astonished when Omai and Burney fired their pistols in the air, then with much whooping spurred the flanks of their steeds.
The horses broke into a canter. Seconds later Omai’s stallion reared and neighed shrilly. Omai’s helmet flew off, he slid backwards over the horse’s rump, then with a great clank, landed flat on his back. The crowd’s amazement turned to hysterical laughter. Men, women and children beat their knees and howled with delight as Tai and Turo helped a shamefaced Omai to his feet. While Burney cantered happily along the shore, Omai’s horse was led away and tethered to a nearby palm tree.
As James watched plantains, coconuts and filled water casks being brought out to the ships, he knew that the time had come to declare to his men the real intention of the voyage. He shouted down to Ewin, who was supervising the unloading of the water casks ‘Call all hands on deck!’
Flanked by Gore and King, James stared down at the assembled crew. In the blistering afternoon heat, most were bare-footed and wore only breeches. Some wore hats of woven pandanus supplied by their island taios. Sensing that an important announcement was impending, they stared up at their commander intently.
James began with the known. ‘We will shortly weigh and sail to Matavai Bay. From there we will make for Huahine in order to return Omai to his homeland.’
There were murmurings of pleasure. Many would be pleased to see the back of the upstart native who often treated the crew as his inferiors. Omai was still ashore, strutting his stuff as a would-be English gentleman.
‘Thereafter, we will take a course due north, crossing the equator and entering the North Pacific Ocean.’
Now the murmurings were replaced with looks of surprise. The North Pacific? Who had ever been there?
‘I’m aware that those waters are uncharted, and largely unexplored, particularly in the higher latitudes.’ James paused, scanning the assembly below him. ‘As well as discovering new oceanic lands, our ambition will be to seek out and survey a North-east Passage through to the Atlantic Ocean.’ Again he paused, in anticipation of his men’s reaction to this revelation.
A tremor went through the crew, like a sudden wind change. They looked at each other in surprise. Through to the Atlantic … But many brows also creased as the implications of the announcement sank in. How much longer would that make the voyage?
James moved closer to the rail. ‘We cannot hope to survey the North Pacific until the next northern summer, and the exploration itself will take many months. Since there will be no civilised land in that region, no Madeira or Tenerife, there will be no opportunity to replenish our supplies of grog.’
There were sharp intakes of breath, quickly followed by mutterings. No grog? Impossible.
James continued, more loudly now, ‘We will all be affected by this l
oss. From now on our existing supplies will be rationed. We will take the grog only on Saturdays. In that way we can make our remaining casks last.’ Observing the disconsolate expressions below, he added defensively, ‘We may also be able to brew spruce beer.’ The men looked up at him without enthusiasm. James removed his hat and said abruptly, ‘That will be all.’
As they moved away, a midshipman, Hergest, was heard to remark to another midshipman, Hatley: ‘A ship without grog? Useless as a woman with a stuffed cunny.’
Clerke came on board the same afternoon, to be briefed on the next stage of the voyage. In Resolution’s Great Cabin he sat at the table, wigless, jacketless and sweating. In spite of the weeks of tropical sun, his face was pallid. Strands of thin brown hair stuck to his scalp and temples.
Concerned at his appearance, James said quietly, ‘How are you feeling, Clerke?’
‘Fine, thank you.’ Then, leaning over the table, he began to cough violently. Whipping a handkerchief from his breeches pocket, he pressed it to his face.
While he held it there, James filled a tumbler with water from the carafe on the table and handed it to him. Gasping, Charles took it and drank, slowly. Then he looked across at James and said wheezily, ‘The cough has been bad ever since the prison.’
‘Have you consulted Anderson?’
Clerke nodded. ‘He coughs too. You must have noticed.’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s the consumption, Anderson has concluded.’ Clerke flicked up his eyebrows. ‘He has it too, he suspects.’
