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.’
‘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.
They passed through villages whose houses were thickly thatched with long grass. Chickens roamed about and scratched in the undergrowth; ginger pigs rooted in the dirt. Cocks, unseen, shrieked from the safety of the bush. Piles of coconut husks and discarded palm fronds smouldered on the outskirts.
When the inhabitants came out of the houses and saw James and his party, they too fell on their faces. Again he urged them to stand, and after they did so, to their delight he pressed nails and beads upon them.
The women stared at the crew and made enticing gestures. Grinning lasciviously, they pointed between their legs and moved their loins back and forth. Observing his men’s hungry expressions, James called out, ‘Ignore them! No fornication!’ The men fell in behind him, like farm dogs brought to heel.
Except for Discovery’s surgeon’s mate, young Welshman David Samwell. He continued to stare ardently at a slender, semi-naked young woman who was pointing eagerly at her groin, then at his. Samwell moved towards her, his arms outstretched. Anderson admonished him, calling out, ‘Leave her alone!’ Samwell stopped then turned aside, his expression sulky. Anderson handed the woman a nail, which she received with a dazzling smile, saying ‘Ah, maholo, mahalo.’
As in the Society Isles, each village had its place of worship, or marae, although Burney ascertained from Kaneoneo that their name for such a sacred site was ‘heiau’. This consisted of a square enclosed by a low stone wall built of tight-fitting volcanic stones. Within the square was a wooden tower decorated with elaborately carved boards and long ribbons of white bark cloth, patterned with swirling symbols. While the others wandered about one such heiau, Webber took out his pad and quickly sketched the scene.
As the party moved up the valley the vegetation grew more luxuriant. Coconut palms, breadfruit and giant trees draped with parasitic creepers grew in abundance. The clearings they came to were dappled with the sunlight that poured through the canopy.
The bird life was prolific. Tiny hummingbirds hovered among the foliage, swifts swooped about, kingfishers perched on branches beside the river and sparrow-like flycatchers flitted everywhere. ‘Their name?’ Burney enquired, pointing. ‘Ele-paio,’ Kaneoneo replied. Burney wrote the new word down in his notebook.
The further inland they went, the stickier the heat became. Sweat streamed from their bodies, and after another half-hour’s walking, James decided they must return to the shore.
On the way back, Burney gave James his interpretation of the day’s events. ‘I think, Captain, that they really do believe we are gods. And that you in particular are a reincarnation of Lono.’ He fanned his face with his hat.
‘If that is so,’ James replied, swiping at a trailing creeper with his stick, ‘why do the young women make suggestive gestures towards us? It would be unseemly, surely, for deities to have carnal congress with ordinary mortals.’
Burney considered this. ‘Perhaps their erotic overtures are a kind of test.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘They may be seeking proof of our divinity. If we respond by copulating with them, that would prove we are ordinary flesh and blood, subject to the same carnal urges as they have.’
‘Ah, I follow your theory, Burney.’ James smiled sardonically. ‘Samwell was certainly keen to provide them with such evidence. But if your hypothesis is correct, then it is all the more important for us to uphold my ban on copulation. As well as preserving the fiction that we are gods, with all the benefits that will thus accrue to us, this will prevent the introduction of the venereals to this place.’
It was Burney’s turn to smile. ‘You may well be right, sir.’
That night, after the party had returned to the ship, a strong north-easterly wind got up. By morning it was gusting to over 50 knots. The resulting heavy sea caused the sloops to strain at their cables and made it impossible for the boats even to attempt to land on Kow-ay-ee. ‘It’s threatening to drag our anchors, Captain,’ Bligh reported anxiously. Realising they could no longer remain in this position, James ordered the master to set a course for the much smaller island several miles to the west, which they had learned was called Nee-ee-how.
They weighed, then after making short boards for the next two days both ships settled into a suitable anchorage off Nee-ee-how’s southern coast. However, the surf was still strong and it was another day before the launches could go ashore safely.
Nee-ee-how was not only smaller than Kow-ay-ee, it was also very different topographically. Elongated and far less mountainous, it had a wide, sheltered bay on its south-western coast. A stream flowed into the bay at the western end, near a cluster of huts.
When the crews went ashore the people again greeted them with adoration and offered them abundant quantities of pig meat, fish, sugar cane, yams and sweet potatoes. The terms of trade were the most favourable the Englishmen had ever known. In return for their produce the islanders asked only for nails and scraps of iron. These they prized as if they were gold ingots.
The men of Nee-ee-how came out to the ships in their canoes and were welcomed aboard by the crews. They were all cloaked, and wore woven headdresses which resembled helmets. This garb seemed unsuitable, considering that the air temperature was more than 100 degrees. The Nee-ee-how men stared about the decks in amazement, then indicated that they wished to be shown below. The officers asked James if this was permissible. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but watch them closely, to ensure they don’t steal.’
It was necessary to fill the ships’ water casks before they sailed again, and Nee-ee-how’s stream would be an ideal source, being close to their anchorage. Gore was placed in charge of the boats—two from Resolution and one from Discovery—which left early in the morning, intending to spend the day ashore. Dozens of empty casks were stacked in the three boats.
Watching them pulling towards the beach, James made note of the date. January the 28th. He was concerned at how long they had spent in these waters. Over a month, now. They must quit these islands soon if they were to make New Albion by the spring and the North Pacific by summer. Through his scope he watched Gore and the others hauling the launches up onto the shore. It was important that the casks were all filled and stowed by the end of the day.
They weren’t. In the afternoon the wind strengthened again, then increased to gale force. The seas rose steeply. The sloops’ anchors were firmly grounded and did not drag, but the swells that streamed towards the island turned to combers which pounded on the beach. Gore and his men pulled the launches further up onto the shore, well beyond the reach of the waves. A prudent gesture, James realised. The pounding breakers meant that the parties would have to spend the night on the island. It would be impossible to launch the laden boats safely in these conditions. But it negated James’s policy of forbidding the men to stay ashore. Still, he thought, tomorrow the wind would likely abate.
It didn’t. It persisted for the next three days, accompanied by squally rain. The waves continued to beat strongly on the shore. The natives couldn’t launch their canoes; the ships’ launches remained likewise marooned. Gore and the crewmen were out of sight, having gone inland to seek shelter, the others assumed.
On the fourth day the wind dropped and the boats were able to return with the watering party. The casks had been filled from the stream and Gore reported that they had been well treated while they saw out the stormy conditions on land.
‘A fine island, this one,’ he told James. ‘Fertile and well watered.’ They were watching the men hauling the casks aboard from the boats and lowering them into the hold. This time they worked cheerfully, laughing and ribbing each other good-naturedly.
In view of Gore’s report, and having noted the thriving garden plots and well-kept villages on Nee-ee-how’s coastal plain, James concluded that this place would be ideally suited to the introduction of English farm animals. Accordingly, he decided that a ram and two ewes, and a boar and sow, would be released on the island.
James, Anderson and botanist Nelson went in the launch with the livestock. They also took bags of seeds: melons, pumpkins and onions.
Onshore they were greeted by the local chief, a rotund, middle-aged man called Kamakamaka. After the now-ritual prostrating, Nelson explained to him how the seeds were to be planted, tended and harvested. Being agricultural people, Kamakamaka’s subjects understood, nodding appreciatively as they palmed the exotic seeds.
The sheep and pigs were disembarked, frisking on the shore as they realised they had been liberated from their pens. They were led away to a patch of land behind the village where grass grew thickly. The grass was called pili, Kamakamaka said, and was used to thatch the roofs of their houses. The villagers emerged from the houses and stared in wonderment at the sheep as they settled to their grazing. Some of them touched the sheep’s springy fleeces, then laughed. They knew pigs, but what were these strange creatures covered in curly white hair?
Now that their departure was imminent, the crews were vigorous in their preparations. On Resolution, Bligh was thoroughly inspecting the rigging and sailmaker Widdall was aloft, checking the mainmast yards and canvas. Other crewmen greased the blocks with pork fat or scrubbed the decks. The launches had been hoisted aboard and lashed into place.
James and King stood on the quarterdeck, closely observing the maintenance. ‘When will we weigh?’ King asked.
‘Tomorrow,’ said James. ‘At first light.’
‘We’re well provisioned, the clerks report.’
‘Yes, both islands have been generous to us.’
King stared shoreward, where the waves were now breaking languidly on Nee-ee-how’s curving shore. ‘I wonder, sir,’ he said, ‘if you have given thought to naming this new archipelago?’
‘I have.’
‘And?’
‘They will be named the Sandwich Isles, to keep a promise I made to the First Sea Lord.’
King grinned. ‘Lord Sandwich will be mightily flattered, sir.’
‘Yes. And grateful, I believe.’ He gripped the starboard rail. ‘Inform the other officers that there will be a meeting in the Great Cabin after supper this evening.’
James had spread the chart of the known Pacific on the cabin table. The oil lamp dangling above the table illuminated the ocean’s previously charted islands. The officers were seated around the table, clutching their coffee mugs. The group included Webber, along with Clerke, Burney and Rickman, who had been rowed across from Discovery. Bligh was also present. The pipes of Webber and Gore emitted clouds of smoke which mingled with the smell of coffee and the lamp’s burning oil. The atmosphere in the cabin was close but convivial.
James announced the new name for the islands. ‘After we weigh in the morning we will take the north-east course I have set, to take advantage of the westerly winds.’ He put his left hand on the map. ‘Anderson and I have calculated that this island, Nee-ee-how, is one hundred and sixty degrees ten minutes West of Greenwich.’ His hand moved to the right. ‘Here is the known coast of New Albion. Its longitude is estimated—our compatriot Drake did not have the advantage our faithful timekeeper gives us—to be one hundred and twenty-six degrees West. A difference of approximately thirty-four degrees, which gives us an estimated distance to cover of two thousand, three hundred and fifty-one nautical miles. A considerable distance, gentlemen. A deduced reckoning of a month. Longer, perhaps. Once we have closed the New Albion coast, we will proceed north, charting its features until we reach the Bering Strait.’ His eyes shone with anticipation. ‘And the North-east Passage.’ He put his forefinger on the blank area north of the Bering Sea. ‘And thence to the North Atlantic, and England.’
There was a hum of excitement around the cabin as the others looked at each other eagerly. At last the great prize was, if not in sight, then at least in prospect.
James looked from one man to the next. ‘Are there any questions?’
‘Then we shall not be returning to these islands, sir?’ The question came from Gore.
‘No. But the Sandwich Isles are henceforth England’s, for subsequent expeditions to fully survey. And perhaps settle.’
Burney raised his hand. ‘A point of interest, sir. As you know, I have been compiling a South Sea lexicon. Coming to these islands has allowed me to extend it.’ He took his notebook from his jacket and opened it. ‘I am struck by the similarity in vocabulary among the various islands we have visited. For example, the New Zealand word for love, “a-ro-ha”, has a clear echo in the word for fond greeting in these islands, “a-lo-ha”. The word for house is “whare” in New Zealand, “fare” in the Society Isles and “hale” here. The Friendly Islanders’ word for their mulberry-bark cloth, “tapa”, is here called “kapa”.’ Burney paused, then explained, ‘The Sandwich Islanders appear not to possess the “t” sound. But the word for bird, “manu”, is the same in all the islands, and the word for woman, “wahine”, differs only in that in the Society Isles the “w” is pronounced as a “v”.’ He closed his notebook. ‘There are many other examples. So it’s my belief that this confirms our earlier conclusion, that the people of the central Pacific are all related.’
King leaned forward. ‘Yes. It would be far too great a coincidence to claim that the words had evolved separately, would it not?’
‘Indeed it would,’ said Burney, looking gratified. Only Williamson looked sceptical.
Giving Burney a nod of appreciation, James said, ‘Your work is proving valuable, Burney. And your and Gibson’s interpretings have been of great benefit to us. I hope your work will be published after we return to England.’
‘Thank you, sir. I hope so too.’
James’s attention returned to the chart. ‘It will be of great interest for us to discover what the language of the natives of North America is like. Could it be in any way related to that of the South Sea natives, for instance?’
‘I will certainly continue my compilations there,’ Burney said.
‘Good. Now, are there any other matters that require our consideration?’ James asked, looking around the table.
Clerke was about to speak, but was suddenly overtaken by an outburst of coughing. He put his handkerchief across his face, but the cough persisted, a rattling hacking that he could not stop. As the others looked at him with concern he gasped, ‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ then staggered from the cabin. Anderson got up and followed him.
‘Prepare to weigh anchor!’ Ewin bellowed from the mid-deck, Bligh standing alongside him. The eight men at the capstan heaved at the bars. The capstan began to turn, slowly. First the messenger—light, braided cordage—appeared at the starboard hawsehole, then when the first of the thick wet cable followed, the anchor came a-peak. As the sails started to draw, Resolution began to stir, slowly, like a buffalo waking then staggering to its feet.
The shouts of Discovery’s bosun, Aitken, carried the few hundred yards across the water to Resolution. Discovery too began to stir. Both ships’ scarlet ensigns were fluttering. James stared up at the tell-tales. An easterly, and strengthening. On Resolution, master’s mate Roberts yelled, ‘Let go the topgallants!’ Men edged along the footropes and released the canvas. More dripping cable came up through the hawsehole, then the anchor was hauled and made fast. An agitated Bligh called up to the helmsmen, ‘Due north! Due north!’
The sails of the sloops billowed, and minutes later they settled into their course. Their hulls rose and fell rhythmically as they slid through the green swells, already cutting a fine feather. A light rain began to fall. Minutes later a rainbow appeared across Nee-ee-how. The sky cleared and the sun shone on the island’s forests and highest mountain, which they had learned was called Parn-ee-how. Bayly had measured it at 1250 feet and James had marked it on the chart of the island that Bligh had drawn.
They had been in the Sandwich Isles for five weeks, and two of the islands, Kow-ay-ee and Nee-ee-how, had been added to the latest map of the Pacific Ocean. There would be other islands in the vicinity that remained to be surveyed, of that James was sure. But they had to move on. The North-east Passage was calling, and its song was strong.
MONDAY, 2 FEBRUARY 1778
After Discovery had joined us I stood away to the northward, close-hauled with a gentle gale easterly. On the 7th being in the latitude of 29° North, longitude 200° East, the wind veered to SE and enabled us to steer NE and E, which courses were continued till the 12th when the wind had veered round by the South and west to NE and ENE. I then tacked and stood to the northward.