25 MARCH 1774
Dearest Elizabeth,
At last I can again put quill to paper, after being mostly confined to my berth this last week. How I detest being ill! The biliousness returned even before we left Easter Island, rendering me immobile. It was no consolation to learn that others of the ship’s company were similarly afflicted, including our surgeon Patten and astronomer Wales. Again it was dog broth which assuaged our symptoms. With uncharacteristic consideration, Johann Forster prevailed upon his son George to forfeit his Otaheitian canine, Jemima. The creature was subsequently killed, rendered into nourishing soup in the galley and served to the several of us who were suffering from the colic. I am now feeling stronger, though I still cannot stand for long periods. Lieutenant Cooper has again deputed for me reliably.
We are presently bound for the islands the Spaniard Mendana discovered in 1595 and named Las Islas de Marquesa de Mendoza, in short ‘the Marquesas’. They lie just ten degrees south of the equator, approximately. It is my hope that the islands will provide good sustenance for us, as Easter Island was largely sterile. Fortunately we are now propelled by favourable winds from the south-east, and the temperatures are constantly mild. In these conditions we are able to make as much as 50 nautical miles daily.
The men have succeeded in catching a number of flying fish, which have provided a welcome variation in our diet. James and Nathaniel would find the catching of these creatures great fun. The men hold burning rag torches above the railings and the fish are drawn irresistibly to their light. They really do fly, their airborne bodies sweeping up and over the railings and onto the deck, where they lie flapping and are readily collected. When they are fried they make delicious eating, notwithstanding the fact that they have many bones.
For you and the children springtime will now have arrived, and has doubtless been welcomed by all. I can picture your roses in bloom, adorning the garden wall, and robins and blackbirds in the apple tree. I hope the boys’ frogs are well and producing another clutch of tadpoles. Nan the much-travelled goat will be controlling the grass and providing the household with milk. I wonder if you have heard from Christiana, with news of my father, and Margaret and her family in Redcar. How I miss you all, and England!
It is my hope that we will sight the Marquesas Islands by early April, and that they will prove suitable for our needs. In the meantime, I remain,
Your loving husband,
James
The first island—a steep-sided, forested spike of land—was sighted from the masthead by able seaman Hood on 6 April. When he returned to the deck James told him, ‘We’ll name it Hood Island.’ The seaman grinned delightedly.
Cooper said, pointedly, ‘The island’s named on Mendana’s chart as Sant Pedro, Captain.’ He, the other officers and James had studied Mendana’s charts closely the previous day in the Great Cabin.
Scope up to his eye again, James replied coolly, ‘That was 179 years ago, Cooper. It is my prerogative to rename it after an Englishman.’
As Hood Island looked unsuitable for a landing, they continued on their north-westerly course. The next day they saw another island, this one so high that its peaks were covered in cloud. James, Cooper, Clerke and Wales stared at it from the quarterdeck. It was late morning, a violent squall had just passed, and graphite clouds were moving away to the west. Scope to his eye, Cooper was awed by the sight. ‘Those mountains, those forests,’ he murmured. ‘They surpass even those of Otaheite.’
‘Aye,’ said James, staring through his own scope. ‘And from Mendana’s account, that must be the one he called Dominica.’
The island was indeed huge, rising steeply from the sea to a series of jagged mountains, hundreds of feet high. Their slopes were entirely covered in forest, while ranks of coconut palms marked the zone where the coastal plain met the sea. Clerke said, his tone puzzled, ‘I can see no reef, Captain, or at least no breaking waves which would mark a reef.’
James nodded. He too had noticed this unusual absence. Weren’t all tropical islands surrounded by a coral reef? Also, the island’s south coast was exposed, and the winds were driving the ocean swells onto its shores. There could be no safe anchorage there. James swung his scope to the south-west. A few miles away, half-hidden by mist, was the dark mass of another island. ‘Mendana named that one “Santa Christina”, he said, ‘and found a sheltered anchorage on its west coast.’ He called to the helmsmen, ‘We will take the passage between the islands. Once through the gap, bring her around three turns to the south.’
Santa Christina was significantly smaller than Dominica, but equally rugged. Deploying his quadrant, Wales estimated the height of its central spine as over 3000 feet. As they coasted the island, the crew stared in amazement at its features. Crescent-shaped, it soared into the clouds, its spine clothed in dark green forest. Its western coast was scalloped, the shore covered with coconut palms and breadfruit trees.
‘It looks like a land where giants might dwell,’ mused Clerke.
‘We will most certainly obtain timber there,’ said Cooper. ‘And fresh water.’ He grunted. ‘What a contrast with Easter Island.’
An hour later, still coasting, they spied a bay, halfway along the western side of the island. James gave Gilbert the instruction to enter the bay, and Resolution was put about. Just as she steadied, made way and was about to enter the bay, the sky closed over and a squall swept down from the mountains. Torrential rain began to fall, obscuring the land, and gale-force winds struck the masts and sails. With a crack like a thunderclap, the mizzen topmast split, toppled, then dangled, held up only by its rigging. Lurching to larboard, the ship began to be pushed towards the rocks which marked the northern margin of the bay.
‘Bring her round!’ James shouted to the helmsmen. ‘Hard about!’ Gilbert joined Atkin and Bee at the wheel, hauling it round several points. The ship lurched again, throwing the men on deck hard against the railings. Cursing as they wrestled with the wheel, the helmsmen pushed and turned. The ship slowly came back onto an even keel, then settled. The winds dropped away and the black clouds parted. The sun broke through, illuminating the slopes at the head of the bay and the dense forest which grew to the very peaks of the mountain ridge high above them.
As the anchor was dropped and the men aloft furled the sails, a fleet of canoes made its way out from the beach towards the ship. The Marquesans were obviously of the same race as the Easter Islanders, but different in their presentation. It was only men who came out to the ship. Acorn-brown, their bodies and faces were covered from forehead to feet in elaborate tattoos arranged in whorls, friezes and spirals. They were naked except for bark-cloth skirts; their black hair, shiny with coconut oil, was tied up in buns or drawn back in ponytails. Their teeth were large and perfectly white, and around their necks hung pendants of iridescent pearl shell. Some had shark’s teeth dangling from their earlobes.
To his pleasure, Hitihiti found that the Marquesans could understand him, and he introduced James to their leader, a tall, handsome man called Hanaoa. Spiral tattoos covered every inch of his skin. This island was called Tahuata, he said, and its larger neighbour was Hiva Oa.
After Hitihiti explained to the leader what the Resolutions wanted, trade ensued. Coconuts, breadfruit, fish and chickens were brought out to the ship in woven baskets. The natives also offered the crew hardwood clubs, objects of great size, weight and beauty. Called u’u, said Hanaoa, they were carved from wood from the tamanu tree with adzes, then finished with pearl-shell scrapers and sharkskin, and polished with palm oil. Hanaoa took delight in explaining that the u’u were designed to crush the skulls of their enemies with a two-handed blow, and he demonstrated how this was delivered, standing with his legs apart and grinning as he mimed the killing action. The islanders enthusiastically exchanged their clubs for nails, knives and the red feathers the Resolutions had obtained on Tongatapu. It became obvious that the feathers were prized above all of the goods the visitors offered the Marquesans.
More and more of the islanders came aboard, all clambering to trade. On the second morning, thieving began. A young man snatched some red feathers from midshipman Vancouver without offering anything in exchange, then made for the gangway. Witnessing the theft, James snatched up his musket and fired a shot over the young man’s head. He stopped in astonishment, dropped the feathers and dived overboard, allowing Vancouver to retrieve them.
Deciding it was time to go ashore, James began to board the ship’s launch, which was roped to the gangway. As he did so a Marquesan on the opposite side of the ship climbed up from a canoe containing two other men, snatched an iron stanchion holding up the rope railing, then got back into the canoe.
‘Fire over their canoe!’ James ordered the marines. They ran to the rail, brought their muskets up to their shoulders and let loose a volley. As the discharges reverberated around the bay, the culprit in the canoe fell back. A ball had struck him in the side of the head, and blood gushed from a gaping hole behind his left ear. The younger of his two companions cried out in anguish, and attempted to scoop the blood up and out of the canoe with a gourd. On Resolution’s mid-deck, Hitihiti put his face in his hands and wept.
Rushing to the rail, James saw that all the canoes were now paddling furiously for shore. A crowd of men was gathering on the beach, war clubs in their hands, and from the forest behind them came the sound of explosive drumming. Fuming, James clenched his fists. One misdirected musket ball had destroyed their rapport with these people.
Together with his officers and Hitihiti, he stood on the deck and discussed the situation. Sorely in need of fresh food and water, the Resolutions would obviously be at risk of attack if they attempted to go ashore to obtain supplies. They could perhaps seek an alternative anchorage, but were unlikely to find one on this coast. ‘We could send all the marines ahead of a landing party, sir,’ suggested Cooper. ‘Make a show of force.’
Still exasperated, James shook his head. ‘We would be greatly outnumbered.’ He pointed at the beach, where the large crowd had assembled.
‘We could fire the cannons,’ said Pickersgill. ‘To demonstrate our power.’
James replied coldly. ‘As Wallis did in Otaheite? With great loss of native life? And when he was here, Mendana killed 200 of these people with his weapons.’ He looked again at the assembly of natives. ‘We do not want to give them even more reason to distrust Europeans.’
Thus reproached by his commander, Pickersgill stared down at the deck.
Clerke, staring shoreward, scope to his eye, touched James’s sleeve. ‘Look, sir.’ Another, larger canoe had made out from the shore. As it approached the ship they saw that it contained a middle-aged man wearing an elaborate headdress. He held a leafy bough in his right hand and there was a dead piglet over his right shoulder.
‘Mebee a sign of peace,’ said Hitihiti, brightening. The canoe drew up alongside the ship. The man was immensely tall, and heavily tattooed on every plane of his body. His hair was tied in a topknot and around his neck was a large, finely wrought breast ornament comprised of segments of trapezoidal wood, fastened together with coconut fibre. When he came up onto the deck James bowed to him and presented him with an axe and a spike nail, which he accepted gratefully, nodding and smiling. He handed the pig to James then spoke to Hitihiti, who translated. ‘He wishes to know when you will come ashore on Tahuata.’
Still cautious, heavily guarded by the marines, the shore party disembarked on the beach. It was stiflingly hot, the air sultry and completely still after a recent downpour. On the foreshore stood scores of naked, tattooed men, most holding clubs. James, hat pinned under his arm, Hitihiti beside him, advanced. As they went forward James said to the Bora Boran, ‘Tell them we are greatly sorry for the death, which was caused by the man stealing the iron rod, which belonged to the ship. And say we are in need of water, wood and fresh food, which we will exchange for goods which we carry.’
Hitihiti made a long speech, accompanied by elaborate gesticulations. Although they obviously understood most of what he said, nodding as he spoke, several of them laughed at his strange accent. This had a relaxing effect. Then the tall man in the headdress came forward and beckoned to the shore party, saying, ‘Maeva, maeva.’
To the Resolutions’ immense relief, a truce was in place.
They began to explore the island. Above the bay were crystalline streams which gushed down the mountainside. There were stands of huge forest trees, draped with ferns and epiphytes. Flowering hibiscus, tiare shrubs, coconut palms, breadfruit trees and bananas grew in profusion on the coastal plain and pigs and chickens ranged freely through the undergrowth. Venturing inland, now unthreatened, the Forsters and Sparrman came upon many squat, carved basalt statues which the islanders called ‘tiki’, and broad platforms made from volcanic slabs, skilfully interlocked. ‘Marae’, the Tahuatans said they were called, explaining that these were places where the gods were worshipped and ceremonies conducted. Gaudy parrots swooped from tree to tree, squawking at the visitors. The Forsters responded by gunning them down and stuffing them into their collecting bags.
Trade between the Resolutions and the Marquesans became brisk, not merely for the provisions the ship needed but also for the natives’ artefacts, especially their handsome clubs. The cost of these rose rapidly as the islanders realised how eager the crew were to obtain them. The crew exchanged their Friendly Isles red feathers, pieces of English cloth, nails, beads and lengths of ribbon for fine hardwood carvings of dolphins and whales. And the strikingly tall, graceful women sought the red feathers, along with beads and ribbons, in a willing exchange for the sailors’ swift, urgent use of their bodies.
After a few days the demand for European goods escalated. On board ship, the importuning islanders pointed at cutlery, glasses, crockery and pewter mugs as they offered up their carvings. Realising that the trading was threatening to get out of hand, and with the ship now adequately provisioned and the mizzen topmast repaired, James announced on 8 April that they would set sail the next day for Otaheite.
The launches were hoisted aboard and tied down. The bower anchors were raised and made fast; the foresails unfurled. With quartermasters Atkin and Bee at the wheel, Resolution caught the light airs and turned slowly towards the west. As she moved out of the bay, her sails beginning to billow, several canoes accompanied the ship, the occupants waving.
Wales joined James on the quarterdeck. He had been most concerned when James fell ill and had been suffering from stomach pains himself. He still looked drawn, and the whites of his eyes had a yellowish tinge, but his demeanour was positive. ‘You look better, sir. Are you fully recovered now?’ he asked.
‘Almost completely. Fresh fruit, fresh meat and fish have worked wonders.’ James smiled. ‘My visits to the head are now as regular as usual.’
Wales nodded sympathetically. ‘I too am feeling much better, thanks to the island diet.’ He looked back at the island. ‘And I have fixed the position of this place precisely. Nine degrees, 56 minutes south; 139 degrees, five minutes west.’
‘Well done,’ James replied. ‘That will be of great assistance to those who follow us.’
Wales was staring back at the island’s great flank and its mountain ridge, more than 3000 feet above them. He said quietly, ‘I believe that the people of this island are the finest natives we have encountered. So tall, so strong, so healthy. And generous.’
‘True,’ said James. ‘Noble people. And they have given me back my health. In gratitude, I have named our anchorage here Resolution Bay.’