James Cook’s Lost World

by Graeme Lay

  James gave him a level look. ‘I believe that that is just what they have done. Over several centuries, naturally.’

  Williamson made a scoffing noise. ‘They have no sextants, no astrolabes, no timekeepers. Not even a compass. How could they possibly navigate their way over such vast distances?’

  ‘They steer by the stars, as the navigator-priest Tupaia explained to me when we were on Endeavour. They examine the cosmos, and read it as well as we do. How else do you explain how they sailed from Raiatea to New Zealand?’

  ‘But their vessels are unsophisticated,’ Williamson insisted. ‘They lack canvas sails and proper cordage. I cannot believe they are capable of crossing thousands of miles of open ocean.’

  ‘Do you not recall seeing the double-hulled canoes of the Otaheitians?’ James retorted. ‘They are so strongly built that they’re entirely capable of covering the great distances involved, with skilled navigators in command.’

  King spoke up. ‘And how do you explain the fact that the Society Islanders, the Easter Islanders and these people speak a very similar language? Listening to the people who came aboard today, I could have been hearing Otaheitian spoken. It is surely too great a coincidence for so similar a language to have evolved independently.’

  James’s attention returned to the map. Placing his forefinger on one island, he said pointedly, ‘On Raiatea, here in the Leeward Isles, there is a great marae called Taputapuatea. In New Zealand, near where we observed the transit of Mercury in 1769, there is a stream by that same, singular name.’ His finger moved left. ‘The New Zealanders greet each other with the words “Kia ora”. The Otaheitians say “Ia ora na”; the Hervey Islanders say “Kia ora na” and comprehend Otaiheitian. As do the inhabitants of these islands, evidently.’ He stared at Williamson challengingly. ‘Too similar to be mere coincidence. The inhabitants of all these islands, I believe, are the same race of people, separated only by generations of ocean voyaging.’

  Williamson made no further comment. Instead he picked up his glass of brandy and drained it.

  Webber sucked at his pipe, giving off more gusts of smoke. ‘I am keen to go ashore, Captain, and draw the people of these islands. And their habitations.’

  ‘You shall do so,’ James said. ‘Three of the boats will be launched tomorrow, and a landing party mounted to negotiate with the natives for provisions. The party will be accompanied by Phillips, Gibson and the other marines. And Williamson, you will be in charge.’

  James rolled up the chart and placed it back on the rack. ‘Discovering these islands is an event of great significance. I am certain that the people here have had no prior contact with Europeans.’

  ‘Then how do they know of iron?’ Williamson asked slyly.

  There was a pause before James replied. His voice still even, he said, ‘It’s well known that the Spaniards have been sailing the waters of the North Pacific for over two hundred years. They have undoubtedly suffered shipwrecks while crossing this ocean. So it is probable that debris from the wrecks will have drifted then washed up on these islands, including iron fastenings. Just as one of Dutchman Jacob Roggeveen’s wrecked vessels introduced iron to the natives of the Dangerous Archipelago, in 1722.’

  He placed his palms flat on the table and said gravely, ‘Now, another matter, and one of utmost importance.’ His stern gaze went from one man to the next, and the next. ‘Since the natives here have had no direct contact with Europeans before, they will be completely free of our venereal distempers. So to ensure that there is no contamination of the people of these islands, no carnality between their women and our men will be permitted. We cannot be allowed to introduce the vile distempers to the people here, or to be responsible for its spread.’

  His gaze alighted on the ship’s surgeon. ‘You are to inspect all the crews’ private parts tomorrow, Anderson. No infected men are to be allowed ashore. Moreover, no native women will be allowed on board Resolution or Discovery while we are in these waters. I will tell Ewin to inform the crew of this policy, and that he and Doyle are to ensure that it is enforced.’ His gaze shifted to the other end of the table. ‘And you, Clerke, are to convey those messages to Discovery’s surgeon, Law, and your bosun, Aitken, and instruct them to implement these policies. Strictly.’

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the table. All present looked down, their brows knitted. Clerke gave a growling cough and put his kerchief over his face; Anderson cleared his throat loudly.

  His eyes sweeping the group, James said harshly: ‘Is that understood?’

  There were nods and murmurs of ‘Aye, sir,’ and ‘Aye, Captain.’ But all present were thinking the same thing: given the insatiable lust of the crews, how could such an edict possibly be enforced?

  Twenty-two

  On the nineteenth at sunrise the island first seen bore east five leagues distant at least; this being directly to windward there was no getting nearer it so that I stood for the other, and not long after discovered a third island in the direction of WNW and as far distant as an island could be seen. We had now a fine breeze at EBN and I stood for the east end of the second island.

  James blotted the entry, put his official log away and brought out the other. He opened it, dipped his quill in the ink, and began writing again.

  19 JANUARY 1778

  Dearest Elizabeth,

  We have come upon a previously uncharted island group which I calculate to be geographically unique, being further from any landmass than any other archipelago on Earth. It lies at 23° North of the line.

  I need hardly add that this discovery excites me greatly. The islands appear fertile and are inhabited by natives whom I hope will be well disposed towards us. As we anticipate the prospect of positive relations with them, I am determined to implement three policies of utmost gravity.

  First, I will inculcate in the natives here the importance of not helping themselves to the property of others. Having had to deal with incorrigible thieving by the natives of related islands, I consider it vital to teach these people that thieving is immoral. Trading with us, by all means, but stealing absolutely not. As they have had no previous contact with those of our culture, their slates will be completely clean, as it were. Therefore it must be possible for us to instil in them the importance of not seizing any items of ours to which they are not entitled.

  Secondly, I have issued strict instructions to my men with regard to their conduct with the women. As these women are yet unsullied by previous contact with European men, it would be an abomination if we were to contaminate them with our venereal diseases. I will do all that I can to ensure that no infections are transmitted to the women of these new islands. Such a policy may be problematic, however. Surgeon Anderson informs me that the symptoms of the venereals are often concealed, so that even those carrying the disease are sometimes unaware of the fact. Nevertheless I will make every endeavour to prevent our diseases from being introduced here.

  Thirdly, it is my intention to bequeath some of our farm animals to these islands. This, along with the above two policies, will ensure that England’s legacy to them is entirely beneficial. This will afford me great satisfaction.

  There was a knock on the cabin door. ‘Come,’ called James.

  Duty sentry Hergest put his head around the door. ‘Excuse me sir, but Williamson is back from the island.’

  James locked Elizabeth’s journal away and went up on deck. The ship’s boats were tied to the cleats on the larboard side, and some of the crew were hauling filled water casks aboard. Williamson stood by the mid-deck gate, face running with sweat, shirt open at the front, overseeing the unloading.

  ‘You found fresh water, then, Williamson.’

  The officer wiped his brow. ‘Yes. There’s a large pond a little way inland. And we found a sheltered anchorage not far off it. The first one we tried was exposed, with strong waves, so we moved further along. And nearby was the pond.’

  ‘And the natives?’

  ‘They caused us no bother.’r />
  ‘Good. Tomorrow I’ll lead a formal party ashore.’

  But, looking down at the men handling the casks, James had a sense that something was amiss. They were not speaking, to themselves or those on board. Instead they looked down as they toiled. Williamson stood with his arms folded, glaring at the sailors.

  James dismissed his concerns. Williamson was not liked, but he was in a position of authority, so whether he was popular or not was immaterial.

  James went back below to prepare for the visit ashore. He instructed his servant to set out his full dress uniform, including his ceremonial sword, and to polish his best boots. He decided he would not take his Brown Bess, only his pistol. The marines would be armed; that would suffice.

  Hergest again knocked on the cabin door. ‘Sir?’

  ‘What is it this time?’

  ‘Lieutenant Phillips requests to speak with you, Captain. In private.’

  ‘I’m busy here. Can he not wait?’

  Hergest coloured slightly. ‘He says it’s very important, sir.’

  James clicked his tongue with impatience. ‘All right, send him in.’

  Phillips was holding his hat in his hands as he entered the cabin. He fiddled with its brim. An Irishman, he had pink, prominent ears.

  ‘What is it?’ James asked.

  ‘It’s Williamson, sir.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He shot and killed a native, sir. This morning.’

  James froze. ‘How do you know? You weren’t ashore.’

  ‘One of the crew, Griffin, told me. Took me aside and let me know, secretly. Shot the native through the heart, Griffin said. And Williamson told the men to say nothing about the killing.’

  There was a long, shocked silence. Phillips still fiddled with his hat.

  James was aware that Phillips had a grudge against Williamson. They had fought that farcical duel in Otaheite. Could he be trying to incriminate Williamson?

  As if reading James’s thoughts, Phillips said, ‘I don’t want to be thought a nark, sir.’ He blinked hard. ‘But I thought it best that you knew of the killing, since it may well affect our dealings with the natives here.’

  ‘Yes. You were right to let me know. Did Griffin also tell you how the other natives responded to the shooting?’

  ‘He did. He said the man’s companions lifted his body from the water and bore it ashore, accompanied by much loud grieving. Our men concluded that the victim may have been some sort of chief.’

  James cursed. Worse still. After showing Phillips out of the cabin, he told the duty sentry, ‘Find Lieutenant Williamson and tell him to report to me immediately.’

  The officer entered. He was bare-headed, his brown hair tied back, his expression guarded.

  Standing at the head of the table, arms folded, James indicated the chair at the other end and said shortly, ‘Sit down.’

  Williamson did. He said nothing. But he met James’s gaze, raising his chin slightly as he did so.

  ‘Tell me what happened this morning, when you went ashore.’

  The officer’s eyes slid away. ‘I already told you. We landed, found fresh water and filled the butts. And brought them back to the ship.’

  ‘Did you encounter any natives?’

  ‘There were natives, yes. They assisted us with the landing of the launch.’

  ‘And you shot and killed one of them.’

  Williamson looked up instantly. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Never mind who told me, Williamson. I’m asking you, is what I was told true?’

  There was a long, loaded silence. Williamson’s gaze became fixed on the cabin window opposite. Then he met James’s stare. ‘Yes, I shot a savage.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He tried to steal my musket. From the launch, as we were being taken through the surf.’

  ‘He tried to steal your musket. How, exactly?’

  ‘He reached for it. While he was in the water, holding the launch’s gunwale. I knew if he had it, he would threaten us.’

  James felt a detonation somewhere behind his eyes. He said furiously, ‘Good God, man, these people have never even seen firearms before now. How could he have possibly threatened you with a musket?’ Williamson opened his mouth to remonstrate, but James cut him off. ‘And you know my policy. If natives attack us, small shot is to be fired. Ball is to be used only as a last resort.’

  ‘He was a big man. He could have used my musket as a club.’

  It was all James could do to resist striding to the other end of the table and striking the man. Instead he said slowly, through gritted teeth, ‘Dammit, man, you may well have jeopardised our entire relationship with these people. We have been instructed to treat the natives we encounter humanely. Yet after merely an imaginary threat, you shoot and kill the first one you come across.’

  Williamson’s face whitened. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. In an unmistakeably threatening tone he said, ‘You speak of behaving humanely. Yet in the Friendly Isles you ordered the ears of natives cropped. And on Moorea you ordered their canoes wrecked and their houses burned. Was that humane behaviour?’

  For some moments James didn’t reply. Williamson’s accusation had hit home. But only momentarily. His eyes piercing the other man’s, he said quietly, ‘No one died, Williamson. Property was destroyed, yes. But no one died. And those reprisals happened after serious thefts occurred.’

  ‘Thefts? Of a goat?’ Sarcasm dripped from the word like acid.

  ‘Yes, of a goat. Of a valuable farm animal.’

  A deadly silence settled over the table. Although still furious, James knew the confrontation had to be brought to some sort of conclusion. Williamson’s face was pale, almost waxen, his guilt evident in his darting eyes and tight-lipped mouth. Arms still folded, James said austerely, ‘You are guilty of not one but two heinous offences, Williamson. One, you killed a native and not in self-defence. Two, you attempted to cover up the killing. Both are repugnant to me. You are becoming a liability to this expedition.’ Williamson opened his mouth to protest, but James cut him off. ‘No! You will say no more in your own defence, because you have none. Your conduct has been unconscionable. I will write a full report of your misdeed for the Admiralty.’ He glared at the officer. ‘You are confined to the ship for the remainder of our stay here. Now, resume the overseeing of the water casks’ stowage.’

  Giving his commander a look of mixed defiance and antipathy, Williamson got up and left the cabin. As he watched the departing figure, James thought, Of all my officers, only that one was a poor appointment.

  ‘Lono! Lono! Lono!’

  The following day, James stepped from the launch onto the sand, followed by Phillips and his marines. As James led his men up the beach, sword at his side, stick in hand, the hundreds of men, women and children began to chant, repeating the word ‘Lono’ over and over. Then, as he came closer to them, young and old all fell to the ground, prostrating themselves, putting their foreheads to the sand, chanting ‘Lono, Lono, Lono …’

  Astonished at this abasement, James stopped. He called out to the prone crowd in Otaheitian, ‘Ia ora na. Nana. Maeva. To’u i’oa ’o James Cook. Of Peretane.’

  Slowly the crowd got to its feet, but continued to stare at the strangers, James in particular. They wore bark loincloths and their chestnut-brown bodies were embellished with shell necklaces and amulets, bracelets of turtle shell and boars’ teeth. Most had ruffles of flowers around their necks. The women’s hair was cut very short at the back, and at the front long fringes hung down over their foreheads. The children were also adorned with garlands and smaller flowers which had been woven into their raven hair. Most of the adults held leafy branches, which they waved at James, their expressions still transfixed.

  ‘This is not just reverence, Captain, it is adoration,’ King observed quietly.

  Although James made a nodding acknowledgment of the crowd, he said to King, ‘Unnecessary. Completely unnecessary.’ He called Gibson forward. ‘
Tell them we come in peace. Ask them what this place is called. And what is the meaning of Lono?’

  Gibson addressed the crowd in Otaheitian. The natives listened attentively, frowning at his unusual inflections but at the same time nodding and murmuring, ‘Ae, ae, ae …’

  A tall, muscular man in an ornate headdress stepped forward. He had a curly black beard, slightly slanted eyes and biceps encased in pearl shell. His chest was tattooed elaborately. He spoke at length, addressing James, Burney and Gibson, his words accompanied by many gesticulations and turnings of his head skywards. Reaching his peroration, he bunched his left fist, punched the air and exclaimed, ‘A’ole pilikia! A’ole pilikia!’

  Gibson explained to the others: ‘This is Kaneoneo, the chief of this island. He welcomes us. This place is called Why-may-ah.’ He frowned with concentration. ‘Lono, he says, is an akua, an ancestral god of these people. He is their god of peace and fertility. He left the island after a dispute, many generations ago. It has long been said by their priests that one day Lono will return from the south, borne on a floating island. They consider you to be Lono, now returned. And Resolution is the floating island.’

  James shook his head. ‘Ridiculous.’

  Gibson shrugged. ‘Nevertheless, that is what they believe, Captain. To them you are Lono.’

  In confirmation of this, people now came forward carrying tributes, which they placed at James’s feet: pigs, plantains, fruit, baskets of fish. Again he nodded his appreciation and murmured, ‘Mauruuru.’ He said to Gibson, ‘Tell them we wish to see something of their island.’

  Led by Kaneoneo, James and the others walked inland, up a valley, following a trail beside the river. They passed carefully tended plots of irrigated taro, and bananas, sweet potatoes, yams and sugar cane. Forested mountains, their peaks wrapped in rain clouds, overlooked the valley, its sides so steep that to call it a valley was an understatement. It was nothing less than a canyon. The air was steamingly hot and bore an aroma of damp foliage, dug-over earth, wild herbs and tropical flowers.