by Graeme Lay
James shook his head. ‘We cannot wait, Bligh. We must get to sea. Today.’
Bligh looked chastened. ‘Aye, sir.’
From Discovery came the single boom of a cannon. Resolution’s gunner, Anderson, replied with a blast from one of his guns. Bligh ordered the sails let go and they quickly filled with the north-east wind. Both ships were set on a north-westerly course, Discovery abeam of Resolution by half a mile.
James climbed to the mainmast platform and stared back at the sound. Nootka had been good to them. But looking to larboard, he saw that Bligh was right. The wind was freshening, disfiguring the surface of the water, and towards the south, dark clouds were building.
Yet they could not let this hold them up. There must be no more delays. ‘Carry on!’ he called down to Bligh.
The next day he logged:
… we were hardly out of the sound before the wind in an instant shifted from NE to SEBE and increased to a strong gale with squalls and rain and so dark that we could not see the length of the ship. Being apprehensive of the wind veering more to the South, as usual, and putting us in danger of a lee shore, got the tacks on board and stretched off to the SW under all the sail the ships could bear. Fortunately the wind veered no farther southerly than SSE so that at daylight the next morning we were quite clear of the coast.
Twenty-four
21 MAY 1778
Dearest Elizabeth,
The west coast of North America is just visible through the starboard window of my cabin. Early summer for us, and for you, although I hope you are spared the mists and fogs we must endure. But it is a comfort to me to know that not only are our seasons now aligned, but also, at 55° North, the ships are almost at the same parallel as Yorkshire. That makes my discomforts and anxieties a little easier to bear.
Today is Hugh’s second birthday. No doubt the little man is revelling in London’s sunshine and spending the long daylight hours with you in our garden. He must be speaking by now. Perhaps he is asking questions about his papa and where he might be. What tales I will be able to tell him, and James and Nathaniel, upon my return!
The principal product of Nootka, the place where we spent last month, was animal skins. I seized the opportunity to trade for some—raccoon and wolf pelts for the boys, and the cured skin of a sea otter for you. It is as soft as a rose petal, and in the skilled hands of a London glover will make a fine pair of gloves for you. The abundance of pelts produced by the Indians of this coast could form the basis of a lucrative fur trade for the settlers who follow us. The seal and otter skins are of a particularly fine quality and would be prized by fashion-conscious Londoners.
The weather this past month has been poor, mostly gale-force winds accompanied by driving mist and rain. To my chagrin, Resolution sprang a leak under her starboard futtock while lying to in a gale. Water gushed into the bread room and the pumps had to be manned day and night to cope with the influx. The entire time the ship pitched constantly and the wind howled like a pack of wolves in the shrouds. We urgently need a haven in which to heel the ship, locate the source of the leak and remedy it, but when will such a sanctuary appear?
I continue to make a running survey of the coast, but I fear it is largely unsatisfactory, given the prolonged lack of visibility with which we are beset and the need to stand well off from what is a lee shore. This disappoints me. As I have always said, when surveying a coast, accuracy is all. Innumerable islands, channels, inlets, sounds, headlands and glaciers can be glimpsed to starboard. Beyond them, when the rain clouds part, an unbroken line of jagged, snow-capped mountains appears. This coast is one of enormous grandeur, quite different in scale from America’s east coast which I once knew so well.
The colic is still with me. Although I try to ignore the pain, the effect resembles a horde of ship rats gnawing at my entrails. This brings upon me rages that I struggle to contain. I no longer bother to consult Anderson. He has his own ailment to contend with. The poor fellow is visibly weakened now and spends most days abed, feverish and coughing like a cat with a fur ball. I have great sympathy for him, as he is the most decent of men, but he can do nothing for his own affliction, or mine.
Enough of that. How I loathe medical matters! It is my belief that before this summer is over I will be well within the North-east Passage and hence bound for a greatly shortened route home.
My love to you and little Hugh on this, his birthday,
Your devoted husband,
James
James now pored over the published maps of the region towards which they were slowly and uncomfortably headed. Held in the Great Cabin’s library, these included the Harris Map of the first voyage of the Dane Vitus Bering, who had been exploring the Arctic North Pacific on behalf of the Tsar of Russia. Sailing out of Kamchatka, in 1728 Bering had established that there was a navigable strait between Siberia and Alaska. Thirteen years later he returned to the region and reached the south-eastern coast of Alaska before he was shipwrecked and perished, in 1741. The strait between the two landmasses had been named after him, as had the sea south of the strait.
As James studied the map, his eyes became fixed not on the details of Siberia, which had by now been charted thoroughly, but on a large blanked-out area above it which extended through many degrees of longitude. Another map, drawn in 1761, showed an outline of Alaska’s known coast, also with a large blank expanse within it. He took from the library and read again a translation of the account by a German residing in Russia, Jacob von Stahlin, of his explorations of the North Pacific. In this 1774 publication he claimed that a Russian naval officer called Ivan Synd had deduced that Alaska was a huge island, separated from the North American continent by a navigable, northward-trending strait. This strait, von Stahlin stated, must lead to the Arctic Ocean.
Hunched over these various maps and written accounts, James wondered: what lay within that blank space north of the Bering Strait? An ice sheet? Could there really be a passage through Alaska to that sea? As Resolution and Discovery were now at 58° and approaching the south coast of Alaska, was it possible that they could enter the strait then emerge into the Arctic Ocean?
He folded the maps, returned them to the cabinet and closed the von Stahlin journal. Walking over to a stern window, he saw that the sea had moderated somewhat. He could now glimpse Discovery in full sail a mile or so astern. Glancing up at the compass, he noted that they were still holding their WNW course. It was now a matter of urgency that they find a haven in which to carry out repairs to the ship’s hull. The decks also needed more re-caulking, and food supplies were so low that he had had to order short rations for the crew. But in a few days they should sight Alaska. Once the repairs were effected and food supplies replenished, they could explore the Alaskan coast and venture into the strait von Stahlin claimed existed.
But was it? James was unconvinced. Over the years he had seen numerous published sea charts that purported to be accurate but were based on supposition rather than methodical exploration and surveying. The most notable example was the one of the South Sea disseminated in 1768 by Alexander Dalrymple, whom James had always dismissed as ‘the great Scotch fantasist’ and whose speculations he had later disproved. The Russian claim could also be conjecture.
And yet, and yet … If there was such a passage, it was his duty to explore it.
He decided to send for Gore and discuss the subject with him. His first officer was enthusiastic. Puffing at his pipe, staring at the map, Gore said, ‘After we close the Alaskan coast we must seek the strait separating Alaska from America, and follow it through to the polar sea.’
James was annoyed at this presumption. Because Gore was American-born he seemed to consider himself an expert on all matters pertaining to that continent, even though this coast was as foreign to him as it was to every other man on board. James said pointedly, ‘And if it is not a strait that leads right through Alaska?’ The question hung in the air, as cold as an icicle.
Gore was undeterred. ‘If such a strait has bee
n charted, then surely it exists.’
‘It has not been charted, it has merely been written about,’ James reminded him. ‘And not all maps are infallible. Or all written accounts. Remember how Clerke wrote that the people of Patagonia were nine feet tall?’
Gore chortled. ‘Yes. What a laugh, when the Royal Society fell for his hoax!’ He half-closed his eyes. ‘But if the strait is there, then passing through it will save us weeks of precious time.’
James considered this. He appreciated Gore’s logic. Time was indeed precious. They would probably close the Alaska coast by June. The Bering Strait would still be weeks away to the north-west. The repairs needed for Resolution would consume more time. June, July … summer would come to a close; autumn would bring shorter daylight hours, and not long after that the ice mountains in the Arctic would be more numerous. ‘Very well. If we come upon a strait such as the one von Stahlin describes, we will enter it.’
Just after noon on 10 May there came a cry from the mainmast platform, from young midshipman William Shuttleworth. ‘A break in the land! To starboard! And a sound beyond!’
James, Gore and King put their scopes to their eyes. They were about three leagues from land. The breach in the coast was perhaps half a mile across. On either side of it were forest-covered headlands and beyond it the sound appeared extensive, although fog obscured its features. Within the sound, James judged, would likely be a suitable site for heeling the ship and carrying out the badly needed repairs. He called across to Bligh, standing beside the helmsmen, ‘We’ll take her in, Bligh. Tell Anderson to fire one cannon, to signal Clerke.’
‘Aye, sir.’ Bligh looked eager. Surveyable coast, at last.
Gore was still staring through his scope. ‘Maybe this is the Russian’s strait,’ he suggested.
James made no reply, thinking it unlikely. If such a strait existed, it would surely be further west than this.
The helmsmen brought them into the sound, then to an inlet sheltered by a high cape. There the anchors were lowered. Discovery moored a short distance away.
The inlet was deep. There were others too, branching off from the main body of water, and a number of islands. Surrounding the sound on all sides were pine forests, and later in the day when the fog lifted they saw that inland there was a continuation of the great mountain range they had followed for weeks. Its crest was coated with summer snow.
While the repairs to Resolution were being carried out by the carpenters and caulkers, Bligh and a party went out in the pinnace and explored the other inlets, and James was rowed across to one of the islands. There, at the base of a tree, he left a bottle containing two English silver twopenny pieces and a note with the date and the names of his two ships. He named the place Keye’s Island, after an English acquaintance, the Reverend Dr Keye, who had given him the coins.
When Bligh and the others returned from their foray, Gore asked, ‘Is there a strait?’
Bligh shook his head. ‘No. Only another inlet. A long one, but it tapers, then ends at a river mouth.’ Gore sighed with disappointment.
The natives of the area paddled out to the ships in their canoes and circled them warily. These were not the solid wooden canoes of Nootka, but made of animal hides, sewn over a framework of light timber. The people were different too. The men’s faces were broad, bearded and leathery, their skin weathered into creases. Their cheekbones were high; their eyes sloped upwards. They wore fur caps and animal skins made into long, frock-like coats, and carried bows and arrows and harpoons tipped with barbed bone. Many had slits cut beneath their lower lips, through which pieces of bone had been pushed. The women’s cheeks were painted black and red; they too had the boned lip slits, and beads which dangled from rows of holes in their ears.
The crew looked at these disfigurements curiously. ‘Barbaric,’ Williamson concluded, his face puckering. ‘Mutilating themselves like that.’
Webber, however, was delighted. ‘Wonderful subjects for portraiture,’ he said, unpacking his drawing materials. ‘Their ornamented visages are a picture.’
The Indians were at first reluctant to come aboard the ships, but changed their minds when some nails and coins were thrown down to them. They became keen to barter, offering furs, seal skin and dried fish in exchange for any object of metal. The terms of the exchanges were extremely lopsided. Gore jubilantly showed the others 10 sea-otter skins that he had paid for with a single blue bead. ‘These will fetch three hundred pounds in London, I reckon,’ he announced. ‘A fortune.’
They were in the sound for seven days, during which the weather was in the main unfavourable. Gales gave way to hazy rain, conditions that hindered the repairs to Resolution. After she was heeled and some sheathing removed, it was found that there was no oakum whatsoever left in some of the seams. ‘No wonder she were leakin’, sir,’ Cleveley complained to James. He and his mates had worked frantically in the clinging, drizzling rain to re-caulk the seams and make good the sheathing.
After supper on the evening of their last night in the sound, James said to his sailing master, ‘You’ve done well here, Bligh, surveying this place in difficult circumstances. So I’m naming the big island you charted Bligh Island.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ the young man replied, his normally pallid cheeks colouring.
‘And I’m naming the whole place Sandwich Sound.’
Clerke laughed. ‘Sandwich this, Sandwich that. The First Sea Lord’s name now appears all over the globe. His manner will be more conceited than ever.’
James didn’t laugh. ‘Let me remind you, Clerke, that if it were not for Sandwich we would not be here. He has proved a fine first lord. After all, who else would have had the temerity to show Joseph Banks the Admiralty door?’
Clerke looked down but still wore a smile. ‘Indeed so, sir. Quite right, sir.’
The following morning both ships weighed and made again for the open sea.
Twenty-five
20 MAY 1778
Dearest Elizabeth,
We are at sea again, following the coast of Alaska. It is trending south-west, and this concerns me, as we should by rights be making progress northward. Furthermore, the conditions are adverse. Again, driving rain from the west and strong, mainly contrary winds …
There was a heavy knock on the cabin door. James blotted the journal entry and placed the notebook back in the locker. ‘Come.’
Gore entered. His cape, face and hair were drenched, and he was agitated. ‘Excuse me Captain, but I’ve been aloft. And while there I saw a wide break in the coastline, a league or so to starboard, and a clear passage beyond the gap.’ Gore’s eyes glittered. ‘I believe it may be the passage separating America from Alaska. The one through to the Arctic.’
There was a long silence. Then, ‘Could you see much beyond the breech?’
‘Yes. There’s open water there. Wide open water.’
James considered the implications of this. It presented a dilemma. They could alter course and pass through the gap, then follow what lay beyond. If it was the pass separating Alaska and America, then this would be an important discovery. One that would save them weeks of sailing. But should it not prove so and they had to turn back, then more time would be lost.
Returning his attention to Gore, he said, ‘The passage is wide?’
‘Yes. Three leagues across, I would say.’
Resolution lurched to larboard. Both men reached for the table edge and gripped it. Recovering, James considered the alternatives. The current south-west trend in the coast bothered him. It suggested that the time it took them to reach the Bering Strait would be extended. So if there were a quicker way …
Having reached a decision, he spoke crisply. ‘Very well, we’ll alter course and enter the passage. Alert Bligh and the other officers. And tell the gunner to signal Discovery that we’re changing course. They too should have seen the breach by now.’
‘Aye, Captain.’ Gore’s pleasure at this decision was obvious.
After Gore left the cab
in, James went to the cabinet and took out his journal to Elizabeth again. He opened it at the last page, read what he had written, closed it and put it away again. He would wait to see what eventuated before he made another entry. Besides, the pain in his gut was bad today. It was all he could do to concentrate on maintaining his official log.
Moving hesitantly, he went across to the cabin door. He must visit the head again, to see if his bowels would move.
As he squatted he heard the ship’s timbers creaking and felt her pitching and rolling as she came about. There were yells from above as the sheets were loosed. She rolled again, then by degrees settled into her altered course, like a steed whose reins had been released. If only my bowels could change course as readily, James thought as he sat with his breeches around his boots. He bent forward and wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to contain the pain.
The gulf they entered was indeed wide, but as it trended north-east and the wind was now against them, the sloops made very slow progress. Yet from the decks and yards there was plenty to look at and admire. After passing two small islands they entered a broad stretch of water. To larboard the land rose abruptly to a massive range of snowy mountains. Rivers fell in tumbling sections of white water down the mountain slopes, then dropped to a narrow plain before flowing into the sound. To starboard the land was less steep but heavily forested, and the air around the ships was as clear and cold as ice.
During the ensuing days the gulf began to narrow, as if its two sides were being drawn together by some inexorable, invisible force. But the leadsmen found the water reassuringly deep, and when it was sampled it proved to be saline. A hopeful sign. James had resumed his running survey of both coasts. Already he had named the place the Gulf of Good Hope. When he informed Gore of this decision the American replied smugly, ‘I prefer the name Hope’s Return.’
On the sixth day James observed that the sound was definitely trending nor-nor-east. King also noted this. He asked, ‘If this is a passage through to the polar sea, ought it not to be trending north?’ James just harrumphed.
