by Lay, Graeme
The Resolutions waited uneasily. Had the old woman gone to summon warriors? James, Cooper and the marines all reloaded their weapons.
The boat brought Patten to the beach, carrying his surgeon’s bag. He went to the man on the litter and began to dress his wounds, removing the pellets carefully with tweezers. As he did so Meama appeared again. She was carrying the adze, Patten’s scattergun and a cartridge case which he had dropped as he fled. She stared with obvious approval at Patten’s work then handed the scattergun and cartridge case to James, saying, ‘Malo, papalangi.’ Then she held up the carpenter’s tool. Staring at it curiously, she asked, ‘Ko ’e ha hono hingoa ’o ’e me’a ko ’eni?’
James understood. ‘It is called an adze,’ he told her. ‘And it is precious to us.’
When Patten had finished his work, Meama brought a basket containing banana leaves filled with some sort of gooey substance. She laid the leaves over the patient’s wounds. Curious to know what the substance was, James pointed to it. She reached into the basket, brought out a length of sugar cane, put it in her mouth and began to chew. Then she spat the masticated substance into a leaf.
‘Ah,’ said Patten, impressed. ‘A poultice of sugar cane. I must remember that treatment.’
James gave the wounded man—whose name he ascertained was Fonua—a knife and three nails, and presented Meama with a handful of coloured beads. When he told her that they would soon be leaving Nomuka, she urged him to stay, pointing at him and saying, ‘Foa, Foa.’ James merely smiled at the mention of the beautiful young woman. He was just relieved that peace had been achieved. The name ‘The Friendly Isles’ was retained.
Next morning, 29 June, he ordered the anchors raised, the sails unfurled, and set a course for the north-west. As the ship bore away, a crowd of Nomukans stood on the beach, swaying their bodies and waving their arms in farewell.
Twenty-five
1 AUGUST 1774
Dearest Elizabeth,
What a strange and unpredictable domain the Pacific Ocean is! Over these past weeks, in its western region, we have encountered people as different from those of Otaheite and New Zealand as Africans are from Orientals. Their language, customs and religious beliefs too are greatly different, even from island to island.
After leaving the island Tasman called Rotterdam and which its natives call Nomuka, we sailed due west. On 2 July we sighted a low island, at 16° 34´ South and 178° 43´ West. Master Gilbert sounded a passage through the reef. As he did so he was observed by a group of dark-skinned warriors in skirts of grass, but they did him no harm. Gilbert left some nails and medals on the shore, but I decided against landing, as the large waves breaking around the entrance to the passage could have imperilled the ship. This decision prompted another angry outburst from Johann Forster, who had been eager to go ashore and collect specimens.
Forster really is an absurd fellow, notwithstanding his skills as a naturalist (you may recall that I had similar disagreements with Banks, who was forever yearning to go ashore and botanise, regardless of hazardous wind and sea conditions).
We sailed on, now on a north-west course, as I intended to accurately chart an archipelago first discovered by the Spaniard Pedro Fernandes de Quiros, in 1606. He too was in search of what I now know is the mythical Terra Australis. Quiros called these islands Del Espiritu Santo. We landed on two, seeking fresh food, water and firewood. They were mountainous and covered in luxuriant forest, especially the second island, which we learned was called Malakula.
Imagine our surprise when the natives of this island came out to the ship in canoes to greet us. Although they carried bows, arrows and spears, they were not hostile, and showed great curiosity regarding the ship. But it was their appearance which astounded us. In build they were slim and of a height much less than the Friendly Islanders. What immediately struck us was that their skin was very black, their hair frizzy, and their noses broad and flat. The men covered their private parts with a sort of tube. In physical aspect they resemble the aboriginals of New Holland, from whom they may derive, since the two lands are not a great distance apart.
They were most alert, and quick to pick up aspects of our language. Thus, and with the aid of gestures, they could communicate with us to surprising effect. George Forster, who is an adept linguist, spent some time in intercourse with the men who came on board. He ascertained that in the eyes of these natives we were the pale spirits of their ancestors, come back from the afterlife to visit them. This explained their caution towards us, and their respect. Along with their weapons, they carried leafy branches, a sign of peace. Thus when we later went ashore I was able to move freely among them on the shore, without serious fear of attack. There were altercations, but of a minor nature—I peppered one man with shot after he aimed an arrow at me—and a warning shot from the ship’s cannon reminded them of the power of which their people’s ‘spirits’ were capable.
It was the waters of Malakula which occasioned a most unfortunate mishap. One of the midshipmen, John Elliot, dangled a line from the ship and caught two red fish, which were cooked and served up in the officers’ mess the next morning. In hours, everyone who partook of them was seized with excruciating headaches, stomach pains and looseness of the bowels. Our pigs and dogs, which had eaten the guts of the fish, fell ill as well. So dire was the poisoning that when we sailed south the afflicted men could not carry out their duties, necessitating the gunner and several of the mates being pressed into sailing service. The ghastly ailment left us all wondering: how could mere fish be the cause of such illness?
From Malakula we sailed south, later landing upon the eastern shore of an island its natives called Erromango. Although the islands are not a great distance apart, the people here were different from those of Malakula, being on the whole taller and with less frizzled hair. Neither could they comprehend the language of Malakula, which George Forster had been at such pains to learn and record. Again, however, we were considered the pale spirits of the people’s dead ancestors.
One night later we were startled to see that the sky appeared to be on fire. A great flaring to the south, coming in bursts, produced the strangest effect of orange and red colourations, interspersed with black smoke. And across the water came rumblings and boomings, as if from cannon fire in some great land battle. Many of the men were frightened at what this might portend, although I assured them that the phenomenon was doubtless entirely natural.
And so it proved, for on the next island, which we were told is called Tanna, there is a volcano which is in a constant state of eruption. We found a suitable anchorage on the eastern coast of the island. Natives came out to the ship in canoes—all men, for the women of these islands are seldom seen—and attempts were made to thieve some of our possessions, including the ship’s ensign, her rudder rings and anchor buoy. I ordered the ship’s guns fired, and their detonations frightened the natives into returning to the shore. Thereafter we landed, and presented them with pieces of cloth and medallions, while I explained by gestures our need for food supplies and fresh water. These islanders too were different, being in build similar to the Friendly Islanders and, young Forster concluded, sharing some of their vocabulary. It seems that in the past there was some communication between these two peoples. Young Forster was also told that there was continuing conflict between the people of the eastern part of the island, where we were, and those of the western side. He also learned that the people here ate the flesh of their enemies killed in battle. More cannibals!
We spent over two weeks on Tanna, bartering for supplies and investigating the island’s fauna and flora. I have once again named our anchorage Port Resolution. During the night the erupting volcano—called Yasur—provided a fiery spectacle, like a giant’s fireworks display. Wales calculated its height to be 1184 feet. Obtaining food supplies in quantity here was difficult, as the natives considered that spirit people such as we had no need of food. Disabusing them of this notion was difficult. We trade, and I attempt to keep the terms hones
t. But when a marine, William Tow, carried out trading while ostensibly on sentry duty, I had him flogged for this flagrant lapse in discipline.
Two days later an even more serious incident occurred. Marine William Wedgeborough was on sentry duty on the beach, guarding one of the ship’s boats. James was in negotiation with one of the tribal elders, further up the foreshore, bargaining for yams. When a group of native men holding bows and arrows approached the boat, Wedgeborough stepped forward. ‘No further,’ he ordered, and with the toe of his boot drew a line in the sand a few yards from the boat’s bow. One of the local men, a muscular man with a bearded chin and long hair, ignored him, stepping forward and across the line. Angrily, Wedgeborough pushed him back, then unslung his musket and brought it up to his shoulder. The native responded instantly, fitting an arrow to his bow, then drawing back the string.
A shot rang out. James spun about, then ran down the beach to where the shooting had occurred. The marine was standing over the man, who was writing in agony, holding a hand over a hole in his left side. Blood gushed from the wound. His comrades had fled up the beach and into the bush. Appalled at the sight, James confronted Wedgeborough. ‘Why did you fire?’ he demanded.
‘Because he threatened me, sir.’ His face was flushed, his hands trembling.
James looked again at the wounded man. The injury was grievous. Blood was still pouring from his side, he was pawing at the wound with one hand and his eyes were closed. He was making whimpering noises. Through clenched teeth, James said to Wedgeborough, ‘Get Patten. Now!’
There was nothing the surgeon could do. He examined the wound, shook his head and sighed, defeatedly. Minutes later, the man convulsed, then lay still. Livid, James told the other marines, gesturing at Wedgeborough, ‘Take this man back to the ship and put him in irons.’ The instructions that he had sworn to uphold had been violated. Glowering, the others guided Wedgewood over to the boat.
Lieutenant Cooper approached James later that day, on the quarterdeck. ‘Sir?’
‘Yes?’
Cooper shuffled uneasily. ‘I wish to report a matter of dissatisfaction among the men, sir.’
James stared at him. ‘Dissatisfaction? Of what nature?’
Cooper inhaled deeply, and avoided James’s piercing gaze. ‘Over the incarceration of Wedgeborough, sir.’ He swallowed. ‘The men are of the opinion that he should not be lashed.’
‘Why not?’
‘The men believe his shooting of the native was justified, sir. The sentries reported that the natives have frequently made threatening gestures to them with their bows and arrows. And our men believe that the natives are now aware that the marines are under orders not to retaliate. And knowing that, they grow bolder, and even taunt them.’
James regarded him coldly. ‘You must be aware, Lieutenant, that the natives brandish their bows and arrows only in order to demonstrate to us that they, too, are armed. And you are also aware that all of our company are under strict orders not to fire upon the natives unless they actually come under attack.’
Cooper nodded, but he was still frowning. ‘But that is just it, sir. Wedgeborough has sworn that the native was attacking him. Clerke too agrees with that interpretation of the incident.’
James looked away, dismayed. This could be interpreted as insubordination, a capital offence. And he would not yield to it. His instructions, from the Earl of Morton, from the time he had taken command of Endeavour before his first voyage, were that no native they encountered was to be killed except in circumstances of last resort, in self-defence. That, regrettably, had happened, in New Zealand. But the procedure when dealing with conflict had been made clear to all the armed men, many times. Retaliation was to be with grapeshot only, and if with musket ball, it should be aimed at a canoe hull. Fire from the ship’s cannons would always be into the air, to frighten, not destroy. None of those strictures would be lifted. Speaking much more calmly than he now felt, the old wound on his right hand beginning to ache again, James clenched his fist and said, ‘Wedgeborough has killed a native, unnecessarily. Although my view of the killing was obscured, it is my suspicion that the man he killed was not even the one ostensibly threatening him. So it was a shameful act, and one which could invite retribution. The natives, as always, greatly outnumber us, and who knows what an enraged multitude might do?’ He stared down at his officer. ‘Wedgeborough also had his fowling piece with him, did he not?’
‘I believe so, sir.’
‘So he ought to have employed it.’ He looked over to the shore. The dead man’s comrades had returned, had covered his body with leaves and were carrying it away. ‘I remind you, Cooper, that we have come to these lands uninvited. The islands are the natives’ homelands, we are intruders here and so are bound to respect their beliefs, however strange they may appear to us. And killing a native is as serious an offence as it would be to shoot a cheeky street urchin in Wapping.’
Cooper nodded. ‘I understand, sir.’ He hesitated. ‘But might I make a plea on behalf of the other sentries that Wedgeborough not be flogged.’
James considered this suggestion. It was obvious that the men were aggrieved, although he considered their resentment to be misplaced. Wedgeborough had earlier been flogged for drunkenness and pissing inside the ship. Another flogging would do little to placate his shipmates. Yet the miscreant had to be punished. He declared, ‘Wedgeborough will be put in irons. For the next eight weeks.’
My dearest Beth,
After leaving Tanna we surveyed more islands, including the largest, Quiros’s Espiritu Santo. As the islands comprise a complex archipelago which is aligned from north to south, I have named the island chain the New Hebrides, after the western isles of Scotland. You will recall that I am acquainted with those islands from my time sailing out of Whitby.
We now sail south, bound once again for Ship Cove in New Zealand. It is my earnest hope that on the way we encounter lands previously uncharted, but that hope is fading now. I do not need to remind you what disappointment this brings me. But it is compensated for to some extent by the knowledge that the greater part of this voyage is behind us, and so I can anticipate the return home to you and our children. Once again I will have a great number of stories to tell you all, and many mementoes with which to present you, from this infinitely diverse region.
Now that autumn has arrived in England, you will be savouring the fruits of that most mellow season, that which is my most preferred. I would gladly exchange my store of coconuts and bananas for a basketful of English apples and pears!
Your loving husband,
James
Twenty-six
‘LAND! LAND! OFF THE STARBOARD BOW!’
The cry came from midshipman Colnett, hugging the main masthead with his right arm. The crew halted in their duties and peered across the inky, choppy water. There had been heavy rain earlier, but the sky had cleared and only remnants of inky cloud remained.
It was 4 September 1774 and they were at 20 degrees south latitude, on a southerly course.
James and Cooper climbed hurriedly to the masthead and put their scopes to their eyes. ‘There is no recorded land in this position, sir?’ asked Cooper.
‘None whatsoever.’ James looked at Cooper. Both men were wide-eyed with delight. ‘This is a true discovery, I believe.’
Peering again through his scope, James felt a mixture of exhilaration and surprise. This land appeared to be extensive. It was mountainous and forested, with a narrow coastal plain. Jagged, irregular lines of white foam out from the coast marked a myriad of reefs and shoals which stretched away south to the horizon. He had, at last, discovered a new world!
After Pickersgill sounded a passage through the reef the next day, James brought Resolution through it, then ordered the anchors dropped. The lagoon was wide, but silky smooth, with waves lapping a long, white sand beach. On the plain they could see huts, and smoke from domestic fires. Inland was a long, continuous line of serrated hills. James felt uplifted by the sight. Seemi
ngly they were the first Europeans to have ever come upon it. A real discovery!
Resolution was greeted by many double-hulled canoes, whose crews swarmed aboard the ship. They were dark-skinned, similar to the New Hebrideans, although taller and more powerfully built. All wore penis sheaths. Their leader was a tall young man with a corona of frizzled hair and a wiry beard. Pointing to himself, he said, ‘Tea Puma. Ariki, Balade.’
George Forster pricked up his ears. ‘Ariki? An Otaheitian word for chief. Could they be related to the Otaheitians?’ He stared at the men. ‘Their physiognomy is greatly different.’ He attempted to converse in the various languages he had acquired, but they understood not another word. This island too was unique, it seemed, with its own vocabulary and customs.
After a party went ashore in the company of Tea Puma, they were greeted in his village with long speeches. James presented the young chief with axes, nails and medallions, which he then respectfully handed over to three elderly men, one of whom made another speech.
Over the next few days the Resolutioners explored the area. The coastal land was planted in sugar cane and yams, there were irrigated plots where taro grew, and coconut palms were prolific. There were streams from which they filled the ship’s water casks. James claimed the land in the name of King George III and had his claim and the date—10 September 1774—carved into the trunk of a large kapok tree near the watering place. Wherever they went the village people greeted them affably, offering them food and drink. ‘Most agreeable natives,’ James concluded after he returned to the ship. ‘Good people.’
‘I have named this place New Caledonia,’ he announced at supper, ‘after the ancient name for Scotland.’
Clerke chuckled. ‘But there are customs here, sir, which I do not believe are followed in Scotland.’ He sipped his port. ‘When I was visiting a village I came upon a group of men. They were muscular, bearded and entirely naked, except for the way they had decorated their private parts.’
