Morcan Books & Films

CHAPTER 4

Deptford, England, July 1768

The two weeks before sailing were a blur to Nicholas. After signing the necessary recruitment papers and being formally introduced to all the officers and crew, including his master the gruff but likeable surgeon William Monkhouse, the new recruit spent the first week at home vainly trying to pacify his parents and explain why he’d joined the crew of the Endeavour. The only saving grace as far as Doctor Nicholas Young Senior was concerned was that his son would be assistant to a ship’s surgeon and so would still receive medical training, albeit at sea.

After negotiating an uneasy truce with his parents and leaving his father to explain his sudden departure from his London school to that institution’s headmaster, the lad had returned by stagecoach to London – a two-day journey from Buxton – and had boarded the Endeavour, which was still berthed at Deptford.

On board he’d thrown himself into a multitude of tasks as he assisted his fellow crewmembers to prepare for the voyage ahead. His cheerful disposition and willingness to pitch in quickly endeared him to one and all. Firm friendships soon blossomed between himself and others – in particular with Londoner Will Howson who was a year younger than Nicholas and who had signed on as the captain’s servant.

Among the more colourful characters on board were the bark’s one-armed chef, John Thompson, who would prove to be an asset despite his handicap, and the quartermaster Robert Anderson, a rowdy Scotsman who amused Nicholas and, indeed, anyone prepared to listen to his never-ending repertoire of dirty jokes and bawdy sea shanties.

There were many different nationalities represented among the men. Of the complement of ninety-five, the seventy-five men of the lower deck came from as far afield as America, Brazil, Scotland, Ireland and all parts of England. They were a mixed bunch of tough, hard-working, hard-drinking seamen.

Before departing England, the Endeavour’s muster would change several times in keeping with the usual uncertainty that surrounded any ship’s roll of personnel before departure. The muster reached ninety-six men at one stage, but before the bark set sail some jumped ship or were discharged, requiring further recruitments.

There were ninety-four men on board when the Endeavour finally departed. When the bark returned one month shy of three years later, only fifty-six of the original muster would still be on board. Deaths and desertions would take their toll.

Nicholas was surprised to discover full-strength rum was freely dispensed twice daily to every man, and every boy, too, on board. It was, they said, an old tradition. He would soon learn that drink was the downfall of many sailors, and on all ocean-going voyages fighting, accidents and occasionally deaths resulted from drunkenness at sea. Rum had long been the standard issue of drink in the Royal Navy. Those with a fondness for liquor usually found ways to supplement their rations. This voyage would be no different; the Endeavour’s log book would show numerous instances of floggings for the theft of rum. Even the quartermaster himself would be flogged twice, although in his case it would be for drunken behaviour, not theft.

Included in the muster was a contingent of thirteen armed marines whose number included Sergeant John Edgecumbe, a surly individual who tolerated no insolence from his subordinates. They looked a likely lot and the others were glad of their presence.

Also on board were astronomer Charles Green and the esteemed botanist Joseph Banks along with several scientists and artists in his employ. Banks and his assistants would collect and catalogue plant and animal specimens encountered in their travels, in particular those specimens that were unknown in Europe. A man of means, Soho-born Banks paid for berths aboard the Endeavour for himself and his hired help.

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August 7th, 1768, was a red letter day for Nicholas Young. That was the day Captain James Cook joined the vessel. Having bade farewell to his wife and children, Cook boarded the Endeavour at the Downs, downriver from Deptford. There he discharged the pilot who had earlier nursed the bark down the lower Thames in readiness for him.

Cook impressed the new surgeon’s boy just as he did any crewmember seeing him for the first time. A big man with strong features and a stern face, Cook had a commanding presence and looked older than his thirty-nine years. Nicholas quickly and accurately judged him to be a man not to be trifled with. His reputation, both as a Royal Navy fighting man and an extraordinary sailor and navigator, had preceded him.

Having Cook at the helm made Nicholas feel secure. The captain’s mere presence boosted the morale and confidence of every man aboard. It mattered not a jot to them that Cook’s rank in fact was that of a lieutenant, not a captain. All who served under him referred to him as Captain, and Cook went along with that albeit reluctantly.

The Endeavour weighed anchor and set sail the following morning for Plymouth where final provisioning would be undertaken. The five days’ easy sailing in calm weather along England’s south coast was a pleasant introduction to life at sea for Nicholas, and the gentle motion of the deck underfoot and the spray and wind in his face reinforced his conviction that this was his destiny. His only complaint was the ever-present whiff of rum and overcooked pork that permeated the air and clung to his clothes; it took some effort not to throw up in front of fellow crewmembers.

There was little for him to do this early in the voyage, so he was able to savour every moment. That changed on arrival at Plymouth where everyone was put to work stowing the last of the provisions.

Nicholas marvelled at the amount of supplies needed. There were tons of salt beef, bread, cheese, fruit and vegetables, guns, muskets, pistols, powder and shot, garments, cloth, beads and trinkets for trading, tons of beer, hundreds of gallons of rum, barrels of fresh water and much more.

It was during the layover at Plymouth that Nicholas first met the captain. Cook had cut his hand while inspecting the carpenters’ quarters below deck and had summoned Surgeon Monkhouse to attend to his wound. Nicholas accompanied the surgeon to the captain’s quarters. They paused outside the cabin door.

“Now remember lad, the captain’s an important man,” the surgeon warned, “so ye don’t speak unless spoken to.”

Nicholas nodded. He didn’t need any prompting on that score. He was already tongue-tied at the prospect of meeting Cook. Monkhouse grunted his approval and knocked on the door.

Cook opened the door. “William, my old friend, come in!” he smiled.

Nicholas was surprised the captain greeted the surgeon like a close friend. He’d expected more formality.

“And who might this be?” Cook asked, casting a stern eye over Nicholas. The lad nervously returned the other’s frank appraisal.

“This is my assistant, Nicholas –”

“Nicholas Young,” the captain interjected. “Welcome aboard, Master Young.”

“Th…thank you, Captain,” Nicholas stammered. He was impressed Cook knew his name. Monkhouse had told him earlier the captain memorised the names of all his crewmembers, even the lowliest surgeon’s boy. He noticed the surgeon had taken delight in emphasising the word lowliest.

Nicholas watched intently as his superior cleaned around the cut on Cook’s hand and applied a dressing. The wound was only superficial and the surgeon’s work was soon finished.

“There, Captain, that should give ye no further trouble,” Monkhouse said.

“Thank ye William. And for God’s sake, when you’re in my cabin it’s James.”

“Aye, Cap…ah…James.”

Cook chuckled. “William, how many times have we sailed together?”

“Four times I believe, James.”

“Four it is,” Cook agreed. “I think that’s worth a celebratory drink, don’t ye?”

Monkhouse nodded agreeably.

To Nicholas’s surprise, Cook produced three glasses from his liquor cabinet.

“Is our young recruit allowed to partake?” the captain asked Monkhouse.

The surgeon seemed as taken aback as Nicholas. He mumbled something to the affirmative and Cook promptly did the honours, filling all three glasses with rum and motioning to his visitors to join him at his table. Nicholas sat down next to Monkhouse and tentatively sampled the rum. Having never tasted liquor of any kind, he momentarily lost his breath and it took all his self-control not to cough or splutter.

For the next half hour he sat, enthralled, listening to the two seamen talk. The more he heard, the more excited he became about the adventures that lay ahead.

Cook revealed he’d just received his final orders from the Lords of the Admiralty. “The orders came in two parts. Our first assignment is to proceed to Tahiti where we must observe the next transit of Venus.”

Sensing Nicholas’s interest, and with an eye for intelligence, the captain drew the lad into the conversation. “Do ye know why this assignment is so important, Master Young?” he asked, looking directly at Monkhouse’s assistant.

“Nay, Captain.”

“Well, the learned gentlemen of the Admiralty and the Royal Society know that observing the transit of Venus will enable us to calculate the distances to the planets.”

“Why is that so important, Captain?” Nicholas asked, ignoring the warning glance Monkhouse directed his way. The surgeon was of the old school, believing boys should be seen and not heard.

Warming to one of his favourite subjects, Cook continued, “It has become a matter of international prestige, lad. There’s worldwide interest in astronomy. Calculating the distances between Earth and the sun and between Earth and Venus are the first requirements for accurately mapping the solar system.” He paused for effect. “Navigation depends on such knowledge.”

A fascinated Nicholas willed the captain to continue.

Cook obliged. “Observation of the last eclipse of the sun proved unsuccessful. Since then there have been big advances in astronomy, and it is considered essential that observation of the 1769 transit of Venus is successful. The next one won’t occur until 1874, so that makes the Tahiti observation all the more important.

“Why Tahiti, Captain…ah…James?” Monkhouse asked. He had fond memories of the South Sea paradise from an earlier voyage, but couldn’t imagine why Cook needed to sail all the way to Tahiti to observe Venus.

“It’s important we have clear skies for the observation, and the Royal Society decided a site in the Pacific would give us our best chance,” Cook explained.

“And what’s our second assignment?” the surgeon asked.

Cook hesitated. “I can’t say, William. I have my suspicions, of course, but I’m under instructions not to open the second part of my orders until we’re at sea.”

Nicholas pricked his ears up at this. He clearly recalled his discussion of several weeks earlier at the London dockyards with the Endeavour’s recruiting officer, Mister Wilkie. The Devonshire man had seemed certain that the Lords of the Admiralty wanted Cook to look for Terra Australis Incognita, the Great Southern Continent. Nicholas was about to mention this to the captain, but held his tongue. He had no wish to land Wilkie in trouble.

I’ll find out soon enough, he thought. After all, we depart tomorrow.

He wasn’t to know Wilkie had no firm information on the bark’s ultimate destination. He’d simply made an educated guess, which would ultimately prove to be prophetic.

Thinking about the pending departure, Nicholas hoped the fine weather of late would continue. Distant lightning and dark clouds to the south indicated a storm was brewing.

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CHAPTER 5

Hawaiki, Spring, 1301 AD

The morning after the big feast in Hotu’s village, Ronui led Tautira toward the narrow gap in the reef that separated them from the open sea. Around eighty people – passengers and crew – occupied almost every bit of available space on the decks of each canoe.

First places aboard the craft had…

NEW ZEALAND: A NOVEL continues next week…

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