Four

HE RECEIVED THE OFFICIAL SUMMONS ON 20 January and the meeting was held a week later, in the Admiralty’s board room. It was presided over by the Earl of Sandwich, and the others in attendance were Stephens, Viscounts Palmerston and Lisbourne, Lord Charles Spencer, Lord Mulgrave, and James’s supporter and naval colleague, Sir Hugh Palliser, now Comptroller of the Navy. All were wigged and dressed in their full dress regalia, complete with shoulder boards, sashes and swords.

When James entered they shook his hand and greeted him with deference. ‘Captain’, ‘Captain’, ‘Captain.’ Around the walls of the room, portraits of distinguished first Sea Lords past—among them the Earl of Berkeley, Sir John Norris, Sir Charles Wager and the Duke of Bedford—peered down with seeming interest in the proceedings below.

Greetings over, James took his place where Stephens indicated, at one end of the table. Looking around at the others, he reflected that he would once have been nervy in this company. Now he sensed that the situation was reversed. The navy dignitaries seemed almost apprehensive in his presence, glancing at him but avoiding his eyes. Was this, he wondered, because he had achieved far more than they ever had? He was aware that none of these lords had ever been south of the equator, let alone beyond the Antarctic Circle. And they certainly never would. He couldn’t help feeling disdain for most of these bigwigs, combined with satisfaction at the position he now found himself in.

Only Palliser, seated to James’s right, looked completely at ease. He and James had an understanding through their shared history in the service. The comptroller had first gone to sea at the age of 11, and like James had fought in sea battles against the French. He had also been instrumental in getting James the leadership of the Endeavour expedition eight years ago. James had never forgotten Palliser’s loyal support. The navy’s comptroller knew full well what James thought of lubberly officials, and shared his contempt for them.

James’s gaze alighted on Sandwich, who was applying pinches of snuff to his nostrils. Florid, his big chin jutting out like a ship’s bow, the First Sea Lord was a man who wielded enormous authority. But to James he looked incapable of launching a model yacht on a village pond.

Sandwich gave a great sneeze, closed his snuff box, then blew his nose on a silk handkerchief. Looking around at his colleagues, he declared, ‘We will now commence with the business of the day.’

An air of silent expectation settled upon the room. Alongside Sandwich, Stephens’s quill was poised.

Staring down at his notes, the First Sea Lord began. ‘It is proposed by the Admiralty, with the support of the King and the Royal Society, that the ship HMS Resolution and its consort vessel, HMS Discovery, should set forth from Plymouth Sound no later than April of this year, in search of a passage from the North Pacific Ocean through to the North Atlantic. The two sloops will sail to the Pacific by way of Madeira, Cape Town, New Zealand and Otaheite. While in the Society Islands the expedition will return the native Omai to his home island, Hua … Hua …’

James leaned forward. ‘Hoo-a-hee-nay, my Lord. Omai’s birth island is actually neighbouring Raiatea, but he now calls the island of Huahine his home.’

Sandwich grunted. ‘Yes. Hoo-ahee-nay. Damnably hard to pronounce, these Indian names. Now, where was I?’

‘In the vicinity of Otaheite, my Lord,’ Stephens prompted.

‘Yes.’ He consulted his notes. ‘From Otaheite the expedition will sail into the northern Pacific Ocean to reach that region by June 1777, pausing only to chart any previously undiscovered lands that it may encounter. The expedition will then coast the western littoral of New Albion, discovered by the great Sir Francis Drake in 1579. His Majesty’s ships will thereafter pass through the Bering Strait and into the sea to its north, then seek a passage eastward, through the Arctic Ocean to the northern Atlantic. The commander of the two ships will be our nation’s greatest living navigator, Captain James Cook.’ He paused and inclined his head towards James.

Sandwich continued with the details. In consultation with the Admiralty, James was to select the officers for the two ships, which would also carry a company of marines. Since the refitting of Discovery would be completed within two months, it was hoped that the departure target of early April would be met. After each pronouncement, the heads of the other lords nodded in approbation, while Stephens wrote rapidly. Then James was invited to speak.

He got to his feet and placed his knuckles on the table. ‘My Lords, as you are aware, I returned from my latest circumnavigation last July, having disproved the existence of a Great Southern Continent and claimed a number of hitherto undiscovered islands for our sovereign. Since then I have been occupied with writing my account of Resolution’s voyage. All of us are aware of the benefits that would accrue to England were it to be established that there is a navigable passage joining the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans.’ The wigged heads nodded vigorously. ‘Even if such a passage would only be navigable during the months of high summer. I am determined to seek, and find, such a passage, and I deem it an honour that your lordships have again shown faith in me to lead such an expedition. I hereby accept your commission.’

He sat down to applause. Palliser smiled and nodded his approval. Sandwich wiped his nose again, then said, ‘Planning for the voyage will begin immediately.’ He glanced around, as if expecting to see an eavesdropper. ‘But no details of its primary objective are to be discussed with anyone other than those present here. The President of the Royal Society, Sir John Pringle, and his committee are also bound to keep the expedition’s principal motive a secret. It will be put about that the voyage is solely for the repatriation of the Indian Omai to Hoo-a … Hoo-a … to that island previously mentioned.’ He got to his feet. ‘That will be all, gentlemen. We shall meet here again at the same time next week to discuss further aspects of the expedition. One that will open a new sea route to the East, and bring great wealth to our nation.’

James was delivered home by coach late that afternoon. He removed his boots, hung up his tricorn and went inside. Elizabeth was sitting in one of the wingback chairs in front of the fire, crocheting woollen squares for a baby rug. She had bought the wool from a haberdashery in Wapping, short leftover lengths in many different hues: mauve, yellow, green, red, blue. The result was a series of multi-coloured squares, each about four inches wide, which she would then sew together. Through the deft ministrations of her crochet hook, the rug grew larger and more varied in colour by the day. Now it covered her knees while she worked at a square of pale blue. She wore her blue-and-white checked gown; her hair hung loose.

James kissed her, then sat down in the other wingchair. The chairs were luxury items for the parlour, upholstered in red-and-blue striped material and bought in the city, partly from the proceeds of James’s Resolution voyage salary.

Gripping the arms of his chair, James summarised the meeting at the Admiralty, speaking slowly and carefully but providing no details of the proposed voyage.

Clutching the crochet hook and wool, Elizabeth stared at him, eyes fixed with disbelief. She made an attempt to speak, but was unable to. Meeting her rigid look, James added calmly, ‘I know this has come as a surprise to you, Beth, but—’

She found her voice. ‘A surprise? No, not a surprise. A shock.’ Her head making little shaking movements, she continued, falteringly, ‘You were done with voyaging, you said. You were finished with the sea, you said. You needed to be with me and our children from now on, you said.’ The last two words were fired as an accusation that rang in his ears, like a tolling bell. You said, you said, you said.

He waited for some time before replying, and when he spoke he looked at her directly and unapologetically. ‘I know what I have said, Beth, and those words were sincere when I spoke them. But circumstances change, and when they do, a different course of action must be taken.’ He intertwined his fingers. ‘It was not planned that way, it was not what I originally anticipated. But unforeseen circumstances have arisen, a call has been made, and it is my duty to follow it.’

‘What duty is more important than your role as husband and father?’ Her voice was ice-cold, her words like splinters.

Stalling for time, he said, ‘You have every right to ask that question.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘And I have an obligation to answer it.’

She raised her chin a fraction, defiantly, but did not reply. Interpreting this as consent to continue, he told her more of what had been discussed at the meeting, and of the offer that had been made to him. Then he leaned back, hands gripping the arms of the chair, and waited.

‘Three years,’ she said, distantly. ‘Another three years.’ Shock was still evident in her fixed stare and heaving bosom.

‘Yes, if the aim of the voyage is to be accomplished.’

‘And when does this voyage begin?’ Her voice was now little more than a murmur.

‘April.’

Placing one hand on her stomach, she said, ‘April. This baby is due in May. Another child who will not know its father.’

He was at a loss as to how to respond to this.

She closed her eyes. ‘Here one day, gone the next.’ She seemed to be growing wearier by the minute. ‘And from now until your ships leave, no doubt you will be preoccupied. No doubt Nathaniel and I will again hardly see you.’

‘There will be the usual meetings, yes. Necessarily. But between them I will be here.’

Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped. She said quietly, ‘Why are you doing this to me, James?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why are you leaving your family again? When you said you would not?’

He said, subdued, ‘I missed the sea, Beth. Far more than I first thought I would. And writing my account of Resolution’s voyage has only made my yearning worse. It has been like holding a shell to my ear and hearing the sea, constantly.’ He stared into the fire. ‘But I was reconciled to staying at Greenwich, until the Admiralty’s offer came. Then I considered it, and decided to accept command of the new expedition.’ There was another pause. ‘I could not refuse.’

‘That is not so. You could have refused.’

‘An Englishman does not refuse an order from his king.’

‘I thought the order came from the Admiralty.’

‘Yes, but with an endorsement from the King.’

Her expression was now pleading. ‘You have officially retired. You have a generous pension. You are not obliged to go to sea again. I implore you to tell them, “I cannot go.”’

Resenting this abrupt change of tack, he stared at her. ‘And turn down the chance to earn a share in twenty thousand pounds?’

Elizabeth’s expression became severe. ‘I care not for money that you might or might not be rewarded with. Your present pension is satisfactory for our needs.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I know the real reason why you did not refuse the Admiralty’s offer.’ James looked up sharply. ‘It was because of your arrogance.’

‘Arrogance?’ The word shocked him.

‘Yes, arrogance.’ Her eyes bored into him, through him. ‘You have changed, James Cook. I did not wish to have to say this to you, but my hand has been forced. You are not the man you were.’

For a moment he was speechless. Then he said, ‘Elizabeth, I don’t understand your meaning. I’ve not changed.’

‘You have, but you are unaware of it. The accolades, the tributes, the stories about you in the news-sheets, having your portrait painted. It has all led to vanity on your part.’

This he would not have. His voice icy, he said, ‘Such tributes have been hard earned, and deserved.’

‘That I do not quarrel with. But as a consequence of your success you are no longer a modest man. You have become self-important.’

‘Elizabeth, you have not expressed this view before. Therefore I cannot accept its sincerity.’

‘I have not expressed it because it was not necessary to do so. But now, with your acceptance of another command that will take you away from me again, I am forced to speak.’

‘I don’t follow you.’

‘No? Then I will make myself clearer.’ She lifted her chin, and the sinews in her neck tightened. ‘You accepted the Admiralty’s offer because it appealed to your sense of pride. The Sea Lords and that adulterer Sandwich said that you were the only Englishman capable of leading such a voyage. It was vanity that made you accept. You could not refuse the Admiralty’s offer because your pride would not permit you to do so.’

Feeling helpless in the face of this prolonged attack, James was about to attempt to rebut it when she continued. ‘I well recall your feelings about Joseph Banks and what you called his hubris on Endeavour, then afterwards back in England. The man was so full of himself, you complained, that modesty was a quality unknown to him.’ She shook her head wearily. ‘Well, you too have become afflicted with a sense of your own importance, and it is affecting your judgments. Of yourself, and of your circumstances.’

There was a rising tide of anger in him now. Coldly he said, ‘You are speaking fancifully, Elizabeth. Name one misjudgment I have made.’

Her riposte was immediate. ‘I will. You have a secure position at Greenwich Hospital. It is amply compensated, it allows you to write the account of your second voyage, and you are able to do so in comfort while also supporting your family. Yet you are rejecting that security in exchange for the perils of another world voyage. Because such an offer appeals to your sense of your own importance.’

‘That is not so! It is because I see it as a chance to serve my king and country. Once again.’

‘Once again?’ Her voice became a cry. ‘You cannot stop this voyaging, it seems. The sea has cast a spell over you, demanding that you follow its dictates. So when this voyage is over, there will be another, and another.’

‘No. When the North-east Passage has been discovered and charted, there will be no more discoveries to make. The world’s map will be complete.’

Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I wish I could believe you, but I cannot, because I know how strongly you are driven. You cannot stop, because the sea is an addiction for you. It is like a drug that holds you in its thrall.’ She looked at him balefully. ‘This year you will turn forty-eight. That is not an age to be sailing into the unknown and risking what remains of your life.’

‘There are many serving mariners of that age. And older.’

‘Perhaps. But they do not command ships that sail into uncharted and frozen seas. You were ill during your last voyage. What if that affliction returns? And worsens?’ Her voice rose in pitch, her face was flushed. ‘You have risked your life often enough. You need not do so again.’

He met her accusing gaze. His voice also rising, he said, ‘It is necessary, and I will be equal to such challenges as the voyage presents me with.’

From upstairs came the sound of a door opening and closing. Nathaniel came down the staircase from his room, in vest and hose, his feet bare. He ran his hand through his hair, looked confusedly from his mother to his father then back again. ‘What is it? What’s happening?’

James got to his feet, picked up his hat and went to the door. As he passed his son he said sourly, ‘Ask your mother.’

He walked through Shadwell, past the now-silent rope works, cooperages and sugar refineries, until he came to the riverbank and a Thames-side tavern he knew, the New England, which was popular with mariners. It was rare for him to resort to drink, but now it seemed fitting to do so. He sat in an alcove of the tavern, a glass of brandy and his hat on the table before him. The only light came from a couple of lanterns dangling from a ceiling beam, so that the other customers were just shadowy, muttering shapes in the other alcoves.

He took a mouthful of the brandy and felt it pooling warmly in the pit of his stomach. But that was the only warmth he felt. His wife’s words had been wounding. They were the consequence, he concluded, of sudden anger at his unexpected announcement. Not her true feelings. Once she had had time to adjust to the idea, she would feel better. Time was what it would take to mollify her.

He took a second swallow of brandy. Another thought entered his consciousness and lodged there like a jagged hook. Could she be right? Had he changed? Was he acting from pride and vanity? No, he told himself, never. His motives were never personal; they were patriotic. Love of country was what was driving him, as it always had.

He took another sip. As he set the glass down, a figure rose from one of the nearby alcoves and came unsteadily across the room towards him. It was a man holding a half-empty mug of ale. ‘Captain Cook? Captain James Cook?’

James looked up. ‘Yes?’

The man was about 40, unshaven and of medium height, with tangled black hair and a flattened nose. He peered at James through reddened eyes and chuckled. ‘I told me mates over there that you was the famous sea captain, but they didn’t believe me.’ He thrust out a hand. ‘I’m Will Parker. I’m a carpenter at the Deptford dock. I seen you there, once, when Endeavour was being refitted.’

James nodded, took the calloused hand and smiled thinly. ‘Parker,’ he said.

‘That’s me name, Captain.’ He chuckled again. ‘Now I’ll be able to tell me mates at the yard that I’ve shook the hand of the famous Captain Cook.’

James stood up, nodded curtly at the fellow, picked up his tricorn and walked across to the tavern door. He didn’t like being accosted by dim-witted strangers. Another reason to go to sea again.

He walked back through the dark streets, his cape drawn tightly around his shoulders against the cold. Despite the unwanted encounter, the brandy had warmed him considerably and brightened his outlook. He would come to an agreement with Elizabeth, as he had before his two previous voyages. He would again keep a personal journal for her, in which he would record his intimate thoughts and feelings. She had received the earlier journals with the greatest pleasure, especially when he read them aloud to her upon his return. He would promise to do so again; that would appease her.

Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he strode on towards Assembly Row, increasing his pace. To be the first to find a North-east Passage, what a triumph that would be. It would fix his name in history. Yes, the voyage would be dangerous, but no more dangerous than the others. And he had survived those.

The house was in darkness when he returned. He unlocked the door, removed his boots and hung his hat and cape on the hallstand. He climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. Elizabeth’s deep breathing came from one side of the bed. He removed his clothes, got in beside her, put his arm around her.

She stirred, turned. ‘James?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where did you go?’ Her voice was slurred with sleep.

‘For a walk. I needed to get some fresh air. And to think.’

There was a long silence. Then, less sleepily, ‘Did you think about what I said?’

‘Yes.’

She turned and he felt her eyes upon him. She said—and it was not a question—‘You will withdraw from the expedition.’

His reply was immediate. ‘I will not. It is something I must do.’

With a cry, she turned away.

He left their bedroom and went across the landing to the room where Nathaniel slept. He knocked, then entered. The room was in darkness, but moonlight shone through the curtained window onto a mound in the bed. ‘Nathaniel?’

The mound moved and a head appeared. The boy sat up, rubbing his eyes. ‘Yes?’

James sat on the end of the bed. ‘I’m sorry you had to hear your mother and me quarrelling.’

His voice anxious, Nathaniel said, ‘What was the quarrel about?’

James told him, concluding with the words, ‘I can understand your mother’s concern. I have been absent from this house, and from you and your brother, for too long. The deaths of your little sister and brothers must have been terrible for you all. But the command I’ve been offered, to lead a special expedition, will never come again. I had to agree to do it.’

The boy rubbed at his hair. ‘Is the expedition to the South Sea?’

‘Yes. And other places.’

‘Will it be dangerous?’

‘Yes. But no more dangerous than when I sailed to the Antarctic. And I came back from there, didn’t I?’

Nathaniel looked down, fiddled with his hands. ‘Do you remember when James and me were little and you used to tell us bedtime stories about when you were in Canada?’

‘Fighting the French?’ James smiled. ‘I do remember.’

‘My favourite was your story about just escaping from wild Indians, on that island in the St Lawrence River.’

‘Ah, yes, just before the battle for Quebec.’

‘Well, although it was my favourite story, it made me frightened, too. Sometimes it gave me bad dreams.’

‘Really? You never told me that.’

‘I didn’t like to.’ He hesitated. ‘And when you were away for so long on Resolution, and when we were never able to hear from you, we all worried about what had happened to you. We thought cannibals might have eaten you.’

James reached out and tousled the boy’s hair. ‘Well, they didn’t. And no one will eat me this time, either. I’m too old and tough to be eaten. Besides, my ships will have marines on board, and cannons and muskets. They will allow us to fend off any attacks. The Indians only have bows and arrows, and clubs and spears. I promise you, I will return safely to our family. All right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Nathaniel, you still wish to go to sea yourself, don’t you?’

‘Yes. But first I will go to the academy, won’t I?’

‘Yes. Like your brother. And after that, you will go to sea, and serve our King and country, and make your father—and your mother—proud of you.’

‘Yes.’ But his voice was dull. He slipped downwards in the bed, so that only his face was visible, then murmured, ‘We will miss you, Papa.’

‘And I will miss you, son. And your mother. And James.’ He stood up. ‘And when I get back, I will have lots of exciting stories to tell you all. And there will be a new baby brother or sister for me to get to know.’

‘Yes. ’Night, Papa.’

‘’Night, son.’

James left the boy’s bedroom and went downstairs to the parlour. He would sleep there tonight, under a blanket on the sofa.

Then he stopped and inhaled sharply. The stabbing pains in his gut had returned.