by Rob Mundle
It was not until August 1762 that Northumberland ventured from her anchorage. And that was only to the harbour’s careening wharf, where she was hove down on the ebbing tide so that her underbelly could be cleaned of goose barnacles, weed and other small shell-like crustaceans. Up until then, the same routine that was experienced during the previous winters was resumed, and once again it was a repeat of the same miserable winter experience. Their food was the same too – apart from some much-savoured frozen beef from Boston, their diet comprised primarily pork, peas, oatmeal and vinegar (usually boiled up into some form of stodge), plus beer.
If there was a brief moment of excitement during their hibernation in Halifax, it would have been the time when there was a fire in the town, and sailors rushed ashore to help douse the flames. There was also a moment of drama when Charming Nancy, a merchant ship from London, sailed into port, struck an uncharted rock at the harbour entrance and sank.
Cook’s personal highlight during that 1760–61 winter was quite different. On 19 January, Lord Colville made a decision that was obviously high recognition of Cook’s contribution to the surveys undertaken while the fleet was bound for Québec. According to his own report, the commodore ‘directed the storekeeper to pay the Master of the Northumberland, fifty pounds in consideration of his indefatigable industry in making himself master of the pilotage of the River St Lawrence’.
While it was well known that Cook, like many other masters in the fleet, had been involved in the desperately needed survey, this was the first clear indication that he had led the way. And he had excelled at his task – one that helped ensure that the ships made a safe passage upriver towards their anchorage off Québec.
This could well have been a special thank-you from Colville simply because his own superiors had acknowledged that, as admiral of the fleet, he had done a remarkable job in getting his ships through to Québec virtually without incident, and in a very short time. This achievement was seen as being a key element in the conquest of New France and the creation of Canada: the rapid approach had eliminated any chance of a French fleet trying to regain control of the town.
If the officers and men of Northumberland had assumed that they would be in Halifax for just one winter following the French capitulation, it was wide of the mark. They were, in fact, there for two, and almost two full years – a security force that was on standby on that side of the Atlantic, just in case France tried to regain its lost territory.
The French, still stung by their recent defeats, lay low through the summer of 1761, and continued to do so until the middle of the following year. Then they made the decision to take St John’s, on the island of Newfoundland, a 500-nautical-mile sail to the north-east of Halifax. It was a small fishing port that the British held but had neglected – something all too apparent, as they had only sixty-three men defending the town’s garrison. This made for an easy target for the French, who wanted to take it as small compensation for their losses in territory to the British during the past four years, and also to give them valuable access to cod-fishing in the region. It’s also quite possible that the French saw St John’s becoming a bargaining chip in peace negotiations, but they would soon realise that there was no peace to negotiate.
They made their move by sending 800 elite troops, led by Chevalier de Ternay, aboard five ships from Brest, breaking the British blockade of the French coast in the process. The force sailed directly to St John’s, which surrendered without incident on 27 June 1762. Two weeks later, a local brig, which had escaped capture, sailed into Halifax and raised the alarm for the British.
A strategy for the retaking of St John’s soon evolved, and within four weeks the British move on the little town was underway. Northumberland was one of the many ships that became part of the rapid response, an effort that included a large number of ground troops. The strategy came into full effect on 12 September, when the British landed on Avalon Peninsula at Torbay, just 10 miles north of the town. The French defenders soon realised that they were about to be out-gunned and out-manoeuvred, even though they had established fortifications around much of St John’s perimeter. The French ships in port left with such haste they didn’t even wait to take on board the troops they had delivered – or pick up their own crewmen who were aboard the longboats that had towed the ships clear of the harbour. In what Lord Colville would later describe as a shameful flight, the French vessels made good their escape under the cover of fog.
After six days of trying to hold the town, the French troops finally surrendered. From that day, France would no longer hold any territorial claim in North America – having also ceded New Orleans and the Mississippi Valley to Spain about this same time – although French would remain the language spoken across much of Québec.
On 20 September, a small British squadron – which had been sent from England the moment the news arrived there about the French occupation – sailed into St John’s Harbour. Much to Cook’s delight, he soon realised that the leader of this fleet was none other than his mentor Captain Hugh Palliser.
Cook’s time in St John’s was brief, however. He was directed to join Captain J.F.W. DesBarres, a highly respected member of General Amherst’s battalion, based in recent times in New York. Like Samuel Holland, DesBarres was a military surveyor. The pair were sent to bays and settlements along the coastline of the Avalon Peninsula, in order to conduct extensive surveys of the surrounding waters and other towns.
After arriving back in England a few weeks later, Colville took time to write to the Admiralty regarding the retaking of St John’s and to also explain what had subsequently taken place. His letter said in part:
I have mentioned in another Letter that the Fortifications on the Island of Carbonera, were entirely destroyed by the Enemy. Colonel Amherst sent thither Mr DesBarres an Engineer, who surveyed the Island and drew a Plan for fortifying it with new Works: when these are finished, the Enterprise’s six guns will be ready to mount on them … Mr Cook, master of the Northumberland, accompanied Mr DesBarres. He has made a Draught of Harbour Grace, and the Bay of Carbonera; both which are in a great measure commanded by the Island, which lies off a Point of Land between them. Hitherto we have had a very imperfect Knowledge of these Places; but Mr Cook who was particularly careful in sounding them, has discovered that Ships of any size may lie in safety both in Harbour Grace and the Bay of Carbonera …
While these comments by Colville would have shown Cook in a favourable light at the Admiralty, he actually contributed considerably more to surveying coastlines in the region, including the harbour at St John’s. In the weeks after that town was secured, Northumberland visited Placentia and the Bay Bulls, where Cook carried out extensive surveys and created charts. These experiences, together with his previous work, led to him writing highly detailed notes on what he had observed, all of which were incorporated in a notebook later published as Description of the Sea Coast of Nova Scotia, Cape Breton Island and Newfoundland.
After carrying out its survey work, Northumberland returned to St John’s. Once there, the crew received the news they had been waiting to hear for a considerable time: they were homeward bound!
On 7 October 1762, Northumberland weighed anchor while a crew laden with eager anticipation set and trimmed the sails with new-found vigour. The ship cleared the entrance to St John’s in company with the three vessels that Palliser had brought with him from England a few weeks earlier.
The ships made good time across the Atlantic, for after just nineteen days at sea they were lying at anchor at Spithead, off Portsmouth. Cook and many of his shipmates had been away from home for four years and eight months.
The Battle of Signal Hill at St John’s had marked the final North American battle of the Seven Years War. With that conflict now nearing its end, there was no longer a requirement, in the foreseeable future, for Northumberland to remain a fighting ship. By 8 December that year, the entire ship’s company had been stood down, and on departing, Cook collected £291, 19 shillings and th
ree-pence in pay owing to him.
While he had been away from England for so long, every experience he had enjoyed would, in some form, contribute significantly to his future in the Royal Navy. This future was assisted in no small way by further acknowledgement from Lord Colville, now promoted to Rear-Admiral of the White. On 30 December, Colville wrote to the Secretary of the Admiralty and tendered a glowing report regarding Cook and his contribution to the British campaign in Canada:
Mr Cook late Master of the Northumberland acquaints me that he has laid before their Lordships all his Draughts and Observations, relating to the River St Lawrence, Part of the Coast of Nova Scotia, and of Newfoundland
On this Occasion, I beg leave to inform their Lordships, that from my Experience of Mr Cook’s Genius and Capacity, I think him well qualified for the Work he has performed, and for greater Undertakings of the same kind. These Draughts being made under my own Eye I can venture to say, they may be the means of directing many in the right way, but cannot mislead any …
Colville’s highly favourable opinion of Cook’s dedication and talents was not lost on the Admiralty. Cook would never step aboard a large ship-of-war again. Instead, fate would carry him to then inconceivable heights within the Royal Navy.
CHAPTER FIVE
A Bride – Post-haste
After being rowed ashore in one of Northumberland’s boats, Cook stepped onto English home soil for the first time since departing for Nova Scotia with Boscawen’s taskforce in February 1758. With him now on the dockside at Portsmouth was a trunk filled with all the survey material he had gathered while serving in North America. Charts, soundings, sailing directions, descriptions and surveys – the same material that Colville commended him for when he wrote to the Lords of the Admiralty later that month.
Cook was keen to get his works to the Admiralty as soon as possible. To that end, he climbed aboard a horse-drawn carriage and was soon enduring the bone-jarring 100-mile ride up the rutted dirt, sometimes cobblestoned, road that meandered through the villages, forests and rolling countryside between Portsmouth and London. One would have expected that this energetic Royal Navy seafarer would have had his meeting with the Admiralty foremost in his mind, yet that was probably not the case. It appears that an even more significant event lay ahead – one that has baffled biographers and historians, and brought an element of intrigue to his life story.
It occurred a fortnight later, on 21 December, when Cook married Elizabeth Batts, a ‘highly personable’ young lady who, being twenty years old, was fourteen years his junior. The ceremony took place at St Margaret’s Church in Barking – a busy fishing village 20 miles east of London, sited on the banks of a tributary of the Thames. This is the first record of any association between the young Miss Batts and James Cook, yet it is extremely unlikely that they met, committed to each other and married within the two weeks of his return. The more probable scenario is that this marriage came about through an enduring friendship, the origins of which dated back perhaps fifteen years – to when, as an apprentice seafarer, Cook was sailing into London aboard the Walkers’ collier Freelove.
Elizabeth’s parents, Samuel and Mary Batts, ran the Bell Alehouse on Wapping High Street, close to Execution Dock. Theirs was one of the few respectable dockland establishments in London’s seamy waterfront district, less than a mile downstream from today’s Tower Bridge. This area, which was at the eastern end of the commercial docks, and known as the Pool of London, was where Freelove is believed to have docked each time she brought her cargo of coal to the town from Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The congested waterfront scene that Freelove and all other ships in port created was one of a logjam of vessels, which in turn created a dense forest of masts and yards; hundreds of them, seemingly strung together by a vast web of rigging. Those same ships disgorged thousands of seafarers, merchant and navy men, the majority of whom were, by day and by night, boozing, brawling and buying women. Fortunately for those men wanting to avoid such depravity, establishments like the Bell Alehouse provided decency and sanctuary amid an otherwise unsavoury environment, but they were few.
Like John and Henry Walker, Elizabeth’s parents were Quakers, and it appears that the Whitby-based shipowners established a friendship with the couple. As a result, well before Cook’s time with the company, the Bell Alehouse became the place where the Walkers’ crews were fed and lodged while in port. Sadly, baby Elizabeth never knew her father, who died the year she was born. Three years later, however, her mother married John Blackburn, and they continued to operate the inn. Blackburn is said to have supported Elizabeth as if she were his own child.
Elizabeth Batts would have been just four or five years old when Cook first visited the Bell, during one of his early voyages to London. If he had been unaware of his hosts’ only child then, he and Elizabeth might have met during one of his visits to the alehouse while he was in town as a member of the Royal Navy, possibly when he spent near a week there in 1755 during his sign-up procedure. Elizabeth would have been thirteen at the time. Another possibility was two years later, between his sitting for the Master’s Certificate at Deptford and joining the Solebay in Scotland, by which point Elizabeth was apparently living with family or friends in Barking. Had that been the case, then she might have either met Cook, or renewed their acquaintance, when visiting her mother at the alehouse.
The surprising fact is that there is no known evidence of communication or courtship between the pair, and no written reference to their relationship on his part, or from any of his associates in the merchant marine or Royal Navy. Any correspondence between the couple that might have existed before the wedding, and certainly all letters and notes they exchanged during their life together, were burnt to ash by Elizabeth prior to her death. As disappointing as this act is for historians delving into Cook’s life, her reasons were understandable: they were too personal, too sanctified, to be shared with others.
Amid all the speculation on the background to their relationship, the only known fact is that the couple were wed that December day at the grey-stone, square-towered St Margaret’s, set among the meadows beside Barking Creek. The local vicar performed the service under an Archbishop of Canterbury licence, a document that allowed the couple to be married without the issuing of formal banns publicly announcing the pending nuptial. The church register reads:
James Cook of the Parish of St Paul, Shadwell, in the County of Middlesex, Bachelor, and Elizabeth Batts, of the Parish of Barking in the County of Essex, Spinster, were married in this church by the Archbishop of Canterbury’s licence, this 21st day of December, one thousand seven hundred and sixty-two, by George Downing, Vicar of Little Barking, Essex.
It is not known which family members attended the ceremony. Once the formalities were completed, the newlyweds took a carriage ride back to town where they set up their home in Shadwell, a short way east of the alehouse. No doubt the motivation behind the couple deciding to marry so soon after Cook’s return to England was due to the likelihood of him being sent back to sea at short notice. On this occasion, at least he and Elizabeth were able to enjoy three months together before that was the case.
In March 1763, Cook learned that he was heading back to Canada, or more specifically, Newfoundland. With the Treaty of Paris having been signed on 10 February, the extent of the British holding in North America had increased enormously. As a consequence, much of the territory and its coastline needed to be surveyed accurately for military and commercial reasons, as well as for the planning of settlements: borders, boundaries and shorelines needed to be defined.
The two surveyors with whom Cook was most familiar, Holland and DesBarres, were dealing primarily with surveying the landmass. With regard to the vast range of maritime projects resulting from acquisitions under the treaty, Cook had already proved his worth as a surveyor to the Governor of Newfoundland, Captain Thomas Graves (later Lord Graves). Not only had the captain’s appointment as governor just been extended, but his territorial purview was now expanded to i
nclude much of Labrador, Anticosti Island and other islands in the Gulf of St Lawrence.
Graves had no hesitation in recommending Cook for this latest task. The Admiralty, however – as aware of the quality of Cook’s work as the Lords were, via references from Palliser and Colville – was slow to commit. This procrastination prompted Graves to write to the Secretary of the Admiralty, Mr Philip Stephens, in early April 1763, requesting ‘to know what final answer he shall give to Mr Cook, late Master of Northumberland, who is very willing to go out to survey the Harbours and Coasts of Labrador and the Draughtsman he was to get from the Tower [of London], as they both wait to know their Lordships’ resolution and the footing they are to be upon’.
Soon after this communication, on 6 April, an increasingly frustrated Graves again wrote to the Admiralty, asking the board to formally advise Cook of his latest mission, since: ‘I have this moment seen Mr Cook and acquainted him he was to get himself ready to depart, the moment the Board was pleased to order him …’ His recent change of marital status aside, the Yorkshireman was certainly keen to go – not least because, at a promised 10 shillings a day, his pay would equal what Palliser was receiving as captain of Eagle.
When contemplating the job that lay ahead, Cook recognised the magnitude of the task. The accuracy of his work would be crucial for the safety of ships entering and departing the Gulf of St Lawrence and the river, as well as vessels sailing the coast of Newfoundland. He was also pleased to know that Graves had been granted permission to purchase two vessels, of about 60 tons burthen, once the ship transporting the surveying party across the Atlantic, HMS Antelope, had reached Newfoundland. One would be specifically for Cook’s use while conducting his coastal surveys.
