Two

‘TWO MONTHS, JAMES. IT IS BARELY TWO MONTHS since you returned.’

‘I am well aware of that, Elizabeth.’

‘And now you are ordered to go on another prolonged expedition.’

He met her resentful look. ‘I am. Because that is my duty. My sworn duty to the King, and the Admiralty.’

She looked away, her expression one of distaste. ‘The Admiralty. That Lord Sandwich—’

‘What of him?’

‘I didn’t like him. He is lecherous.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you not notice the way his gaze kept falling on my breasts, and lingering there?’

‘I confess that I did not.’

‘Well I did, and it was horrible.’ She shuddered. ‘Were it not for the fact that we were in the King’s presence, I would have ordered him to desist.’

James looked away. Sandwich was a rake, that was well known. But he certainly should not have ogled Elizabeth the way she said he had. No man had the right to do that to another man’s wife, especially in the husband’s presence. Sandwich carried with him a sense of entitlement through his elevated status, which he considered gave him a right to every woman he came across. Droit du seigneur, the French called this, and it was a right resented by every man who didn’t possess it.

But on a professional level, Sandwich was the First Sea Lord and, as one of his officers, James was bound to obey his instructions. Moreover, the idea of another voyage of exploration had come from an even higher authority, the King himself. Albeit, James suspected, at the urging of Joseph Banks, who had become obsessed with the notion of a Great Southern Continent. On this matter, James was now in two minds. He recalled the conversation he had had with his friend and patron Sir Hugh Palliser shortly after Endeavour’s return. Palliser had written to James, congratulating him on the completion of his voyage and the news of his impending promotion. Gratified by Palliser’s good wishes, James had arranged for the two of them to meet at Will’s coffee house in Charing Cross.

James had walked there from Wapping, along the river, and it was an agreeably warm summer morning. At Will’s they took a seat in a bay surrounded by open leadlight windows. Flower boxes hanging from their outside sills were crammed with scarlet geraniums. While they waited for their coffees, Palliser filled his pipe from a pigskin tobacco pouch and tamped it with his thumb. His face had filled out and his cheeks were flushed, but his eyes were as clear and beady as ever. He worked his flint, lit his pipe and puffed on it. For a few moments his face was enveloped in smoke. When it cleared he smiled broadly and said, ‘Well, Cook, at last I can congratulate you in person on your voyage and your promotion.’

‘Thank you, sir. And my congratulations to you on your promotion.’

Palliser laughed sardonically. ‘Well, Comptroller of the Navy Board hardly compares with the command of a man-o’-war. I’m merely a bookkeeper in uniform, in command of ledgers and a desk.’ He puffed again. ‘HMS Mahogany, as you might say.’

‘But a vital role nevertheless, sir. Every naval commander is answerable to you.’

Palliser grunted. ‘To the Board, rather.’ He set his pipe down. ‘Well, I’ve read all the reports of your voyage.’

James smiled. ‘By all, sir, do you mean Banks’s?’

‘His, yes. And I’ve read too an interview with Dr Solander. And heard the stories circulating in the docks.’ He paused. ‘You know how the rumours and gossip fly down there. It must have been an eventful three years, if even half the stories are to be believed.’

‘Indeed it was. But my own journals will not be published until next year.’ He gave Palliser a pointed look. ‘Be assured, they will present a more sober account than Banks’s.’

Palliser sniggered. ‘You mean yours will not include tales of carnally knowing dusky maidens amid the tropical forest in exchange for a ship’s nail?’

‘No. Venus will feature, but only in a planetary sense.’

‘Ha!’ Palliser puffed again on his pipe. ‘And your charting? It went well?’

‘The work was challenging, but was done to my satisfaction. The charts will also be published next year, I hope.’

Palliser nodded approvingly. ‘Good. I’m sure they will prove invaluable.’ He gave James an inquiring look. ‘Banks mentioned that you named features of the New Zealand coast after naval people here. Hawke, Colville, Egmont. As well as after Banks himself. You named an island after him, he has informed the broadsheets.’

‘That is so. An island on the eastern coast of New Zealand’s larger, southern island.’ Seeing the serving girl approaching with their coffee, James leaned back. After she had set down their cups, he said, ‘And another landform I named after your good self, Captain.’

Palliser looked up sharply. ‘Is that so? What and where?’

‘A cape, at the southern extremity of the northern island of New Zealand, the one called by the natives “Te Ika A Maui”. The promontory is at 41 degrees south latitude. We passed it in Endeavour on 12 February this year. Henceforth the landform will be known as Cape Palliser.’

Palliser’s face flushed with pleasure. ‘That is an enormous compliment, Cook.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know what else to say, but I am flattered. Greatly flattered.’

‘It is a token of the esteem in which I hold you, sir. Given in gratitude for the support you have accorded me since I was a lowly able seaman. My first promotion, to HMS Pembroke, was given on your recommendation, remember.’

‘In recognition of your exceptional talents.’ Palliser took a mouthful of coffee and swallowed. ‘And now, to other developments.’ First glancing around, he said in a low but animated voice, ‘The City and the docks are in a ferment. Everyone in authority—the Admiralty, the Royal Society—is pressing for another voyage, one which it is hoped will be more triumphant than the first. The King too, I’ve heard, strongly supports the idea.’

James nodded. ‘Yes, I’m aware of the agitation, and I’m willing to help mount an expedition. It should be got under way soonest, too, if we are to beat the French to more discoveries. Bougainville and the other Frenchman, de Surville, are back, after trespassing on our territories.’ He allowed a pause. ‘And there is other unfinished business, as I’m sure you’re well aware.’

‘The Great Southern Continent?’

‘Yes. The matter needs to be settled, one way or the other. Otherwise it will be never-ending.’

Palliser reached into the document case which he had placed under the table, and drew out a rolled chart. ‘I assume you haven’t yet seen this publication.’

James frowned. ‘What is it?’

Palliser unrolled it before James’s astonished eyes. It was a copy of a chart. Entitled ‘The Extent of the Southern Hemisphere and Terra Australis Incognita’, it showed the South Atlantic and the South Pacific Oceans, joined by an enormous landmass, into which was set a great bay named Gulf of San Sebastian. A promontory, named Cape Circumcision, protruded from the landmass’s Atlantic aspect.

Shaking his head in disbelief, James said, ‘This is surely a fantasy, sir, based on the alleged discovery of Cape Circumcision by the Frenchman, Bouvet, in 1739. And combined with the Abraham Ortelius map.’

‘Of 1587. Before Cape Horn was even charted. Quite so. And look at the name of the artist.’

Peering at the signature in the bottom right-hand corner, James read, ‘Alexander Dalrymple.’ He cast the chart aside in disgust. ‘That man is a menace to exploration.’

Palliser chuckled. ‘Yes. But he is still trying to convince the authorities that he is the man to lead an expedition to discover the Great Southern Continent.’ Seeing James’s dismayed reaction, he put a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t worry, no one in the Admiralty takes Dalrymple seriously. He is not one of us, and he never has been. He is merely a merchant mariner with a fevered imagination. Now, the next voyage—’

They talked at length about what yet needed to be achieved. Both agreed that the matter of the undiscovered continent needed to be wholly settled. Then James summed up his experiences for his naval colleague: ‘We sailed south-west from Cape Horn for 40 leagues, as far as 50 degrees south, and found not a trace of a landmass. Then from Otaheite we sailed due south as far as 40 degrees and found likewise. Only empty ocean.’

Palliser considered this, then replied cautiously, ‘So if the continent does exist, it must lie west of Cape Horn and east of New Zealand, or in the South Atlantic, east to New Holland.’

‘Yes. In the high latitudes. Perhaps as far south as 60 degrees.’ He added ruefully, ‘Where there are, doubtless, ice mountains and little plant growth.’

There was a long pause, then Palliser said, ‘You have given consideration to a course for the next voyage?’

‘Yes. This time I will circle the world in an easterly direction. After leaving Plymouth, I propose to touch Madeira, then the Cape of Good Hope. And from there proceed south, seeking Cape Circumcision. Then westward through the Southern Ocean, south of Van Diemen’s Land, to Queen Charlotte Sound in New Zealand.’

‘Why there?’

‘Because Ship Cove, in the sound, provides a fine anchorage and ample supplies of water and wood. Genial natives, too. That will be one base for the voyage. The other will be Matavai Bay in Otaheite, where we will be welcome again, I’m sure. From there we would sail south, and east, as far as Cape Horn. After doubling the Horn we would set a westerly course, heading again for Cape Town, then home.’

Palliser listened carefully, obviously with a mental chart of the Southern Hemisphere in his mind, nodding approval from time to time. Then he smiled. ‘So, no Rio de Janeiro on this voyage?’

James scowled. ‘No, that is a coast to be avoided. You read of our mistreatment there?’

‘It was reported fully in the news-sheets. And there was outrage at the incident expressed in Parliament. Portugal is our ally, after all.’

‘One would not have thought so, given the Viceroy’s shameful treatment of us.’ James waved his hand dismissively. ‘But that’s history. It’s next year we need to concentrate all our resolve on now.’

Palliser then confirmed the fact of another significant development that James had heard of, that the clock-maker John Harrison had succeeded in refining the timekeeper on which he had been working most of his lifetime. This version, called H4, had been tested in the Atlantic and proved capable of withstanding the instability of a ship’s movements. Thus it could keep reliable time east or west of a prime meridian set at Greenwich. Both James and Palliser were well aware of the implications of this: an accurate timekeeper, with time measured from Greenwich, would make the calculation of longitude more exact and sea charts correspondingly more precise. Palliser said that any preparations for the next voyage must include at least one Harrison timekeeper, a suggestion with which James wholeheartedly concurred. Already, practical developments were occurring, ones which James relished. They augured well for what was ahead.

They parted outside on the crowded city intersection. Shaking James’s hand, Palliser said, ‘Congratulations again, Cook, on your promotion. And all good wishes for the preparations for the new voyage.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Palliser gave him a loaded look. ‘Joseph Banks will have a major role to play in the new expedition, we can assume.’

‘Undoubtedly. His close friend Sandwich will oversee the planning, and he has Banks’s ear at all times. So the expedition will no doubt be planned on Banks’s terms.’ James smiled. ‘But after three long years in Banks’s company, I’m confident that I will have his measure. While at sea he will at all times be answerable to me.’

‘And rightly so.’ Palliser inclined his head respectfully. ‘It was good to talk, Cook. And I will follow your preparations with great interest.’

Walking back along the river, James reflected on the discussion. As head of the Navy Board, Palliser was of vital importance to the proposed voyage, particularly the refitting of the ships. James was confident that he could retain his support, and that of Philip Stephens. He had been long enough in the Navy to know how crucial such alliances were. Lord Sandwich he was not so sure about, mainly because of his close friendship with Banks, and because Banks would again be underwriting many of the expedition’s costs. Yet Banks, however celebrated in the press as a naturalist, was not a navy man. Never had been, never would be. And James wondered, as he walked, how far the Banks–Sandwich loyalty would extend, and how might it affect his own role as commander.

Elizabeth sat in the parlour window. Her royal gown was hanging in the wardrobe upstairs, replaced by her usual plain brown gown and shawl. James reported to her briefly on his meeting with Palliser. After hearing it, she swept her long hair up into a roll and pinned it in place with the carved hardwood comb James had brought her from Otaheite. Then she said, in the tone of admonition that he well remembered, ‘So soon, James. So soon.’ She walked to the fireplace, then turned. Her eyes were fiery. ‘You are away from us for three years, you return at long last, only to announce that you are to leave us again.’

‘In seven months’ time.’

Her eyebrows knitted as she absorbed this detail. Then, clasping her hands together in front of her, she said, ‘I know I cannot prevent you from carrying out your sworn duty, James, but the prospect of having you leave me for another three years is one I cannot look forward to.’

‘It will not be as long as the last voyage, I’m sure.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘It will be my suggestion that this time, sailing south, we avoid Cape Horn in favour of the Cape of Good Hope. Our course will thus be shorter.’

Looking down, she murmured, ‘But no less perilous.’

‘There will be dangers. But I will be equal to them.’ He went to her, and took her hands in his. ‘And if you wish me to, I will again keep a journal for you.’ She remained silent, but nodded faintly. Her eyes became filmy. Soon after his return, he had presented her with the personal journal he had kept for her on Endeavour, in which he had recorded his innermost thoughts and feelings. And in their bed, by candlelight, he had read the journal to her, taking her through the voyage, stage by arduous stage.

Sitting up in bed, the candelabrum illuminating the open page, he resumed his reading. Her hair loose, nightgown open at the neck, Elizabeth snuggled into him, one arm across his chest.

‘April fifth, 1770.’ He peered at the page. ‘“We had departed the shores of New Zealand on the last day of March. I set Endeavour on a north-west-west course, bound for Van Diemen’s land and New Holland”. This entry was written after we had been at sea for six days.’ His left arm around her, he held the journal up to the light with his right hand.

‘“Springtime in England, what thoughts of home that knowledge brings! Walks on the common, the oaks and elms bursting into new leaf, spring flowers in the parks, bluebells in the woods, how we welcomed those arrivals in Ayton when I was a boy. Spring was always my mother’s favourite season. And now, after the hardships of the London winter, how you and the children must be relishing the season of renewal. In New Zealand there are no marked differences in the seasons, and no deciduous trees—all are evergreens—so in autumn the forests do not assume the shades of gold and russet which they do at home. The evergreens have a beauty of their own—particularly the giant trees called the koorri—but they lack the changing hues of our forests during the spring, summer and autumn.

‘“It is my hope that we will make landfall in New Holland sometime before this month is out. The crew is already cheered by the knowledge that we are now bearing in the direction of the equator and are thus proceeding towards the Northern Hemisphere. As your cousin Isaac Smith remarked to me yesterday, ‘I feel that the greatest hardships are now behind us, sir.’

‘“Every day’s progress northwards brings us closer to our beloved England and those family members whose affections we hold dearest to us. So as we again proceed towards the unknown and the unfathomable, it is the known and beloved who are uppermost in my thoughts.

‘“My love, as always, to you my dearest Elizabeth, and to our little ones,

‘“Your loving husband, James.”’

These readings had a strange effect on the two of them. The declarations of love which he had expressed in writing so candidly in the past had the effect of drawing them much closer together in the present. Invariably, both of them would be physically aroused by his candid and heartfelt sentiments, and following his readings to her they would make love, sometimes even before the candles had been extinguished, with an ardour which astonished and delighted them in equal measure.

‘Yes,’ she said, quietly. ‘Your journal to me has meant a great deal. I would like you to continue it.’ She paused. ‘And bring it back to me, so we can again read it together.’

‘Then I will.’

Gripping his big hands, she stared up at him. ‘Our time together is so precious, James.’

‘Yes.’ He stood up and went to the window. ‘I treasure every day that I’m here with you and the boys.’ Turning back, he said, ‘And Elizabeth, I must visit my own family before I sail again. It has weighed heavily on my conscience that I haven’t seen my father and sisters for so long. Or my old friends in Whitby.’ Placing his hands behind his back, he added, ‘So, I thought I would apply to the Admiralty for a leave of three weeks, so that we might travel to Yorkshire before Christmas and spend the season there.’ He stared at her. ‘What say you to that suggestion?’

She brightened. ‘Yes. Yes, I would like that. I would like to meet your family.’ She hesitated. ‘And inform them in person of other news.’

Looking at her quizzically, he said: ‘Of the next voyage?’

‘No. That I believe I am with child again.’