CHAPTER VIII

THE BRITON'S GAIN

In the year 1741 a lad was apprenticed to a haberdasher in a small town near Whitby in Yorkshire. His name was James Cook, and he was from the first an example of the square peg in the round hole. So loose was the fit that the peg presently fell out and rolled away. In other words, young Cook, not being cut out for a haberdasher, got himself apprenticed aboard a collier. His ability to hand, reef and steer was so much greater than his aptitude for wielding a yardstick that, as soon as his time was out, he was raised to the position of mate.

In 1755, before he was twenty-seven, this remarkable youth joined the King's navy as an ordinary seaman. Observe what he accomplished before ten years were out by his own industry.

Strictly attentive to duty, he rose rapidly, and thrice in succession was master on a sloop of war, the last occasion being when Quebec was wrested from the French. That done, he surveyed and charted the St. Lawrence from Quebec to the sea, although "up to that time" he had "scarcely ever used a pencil, and had no knowledge of drawing." But he had "read Euclid" ever since he joined the navy, and for recreation enjoyed "the study of astronomy and kindred sciences." Think of it--the haberdasher's boy, the collier's mate!

The ten years are not yet past. Our hero helped in 1762 to recapture Newfoundland from the French, and before 1763 was out he was back in those cold seas, surveying the coasts. Another twelvemonth saw him appointed Marine Surveyor of Newfoundland and Labrador, under the orders of his old captain, Sir Hugh Palliser.

Mr. Cook's astronomical studies now began to bear fruit, and he received in 1768 his commission as lieutenant and the command of an expedition to the South Seas to observe the transit of Venus. With this and other ends in view, Cook, now forty-one, left England in the _Endeavour_, accompanied by the great botanist, Joseph Banks, and other men of science.

The narrative of the voyages of this famous circumnavigator is so easily accessible to all who care to follow "our rough island story," that there is no need to epitomise it here. It is sufficient to say that Cook disproved all which had been previously held proved with regard to the "polar continent," and in so doing came into direct and notable relation with the country whose history we are tracing.

It was the 6th of October, 1769, when the lookout on the _Endeavour_ sighted the bluff of Kuri--North Island--now known as "Young Nick's Head." Supposing the land to be part of that "Terra Australis Incognita" which he had come to investigate, Cook cast anchor two days later in the Bay of Turanga, or, as he saw fit to designate it owing to the inhospitality of the natives, "Poverty Bay."

At Otaheite, where he had observed the transit of Venus, Cook had shipped a chief named Tupia, who on many occasions proved of the greatest use. He had already voyaged hundreds of miles in the great canoes of the Tahitians, and his father had been an even more intrepid sailor. It was Tupia who pointed the way to this island and that, and who, owing to the limitations of his own knowledge, related his father's experiences to Cook, assuring him that land lay still farther to the south.

It was Tupia, too, who landed with his leader on the shore at Turanga, and addressed the natives in Tahitian, a language which proved sufficiently like their own to enable them to understand most of what was said.

But though Cook offered presents, and though Tupia charmed never so wisely with his Tahitian tongue, the Maori would have none of the Pakeha. They no doubt feared these white visitors. Te Tanewha, a chief who was a boy when Cook paid his first visit, described many years later the astonishment of the Maori at the approach of what they took to be "a whale with wings." Then, as the _Endeavour's_ boats were pulled ashore, the bewilderment of the natives deepened; for it appeared to them that the Pakeha had eyes in the back of their heads. This, of course, was due to the position of the rowers, which was exactly the reverse of that assumed by the Maori in propelling their canoes.

The appearance of the natives became threatening, and some of them tried to make off with one of the calves of the "whale with wings," that is, with the ship's pinnace. Tupia warned them that they ran the risk of being severely dealt with, but the words of a man of their own colour moved them not at all. Their hostile demonstrations continued, and Cook--who was determined to pursue his researches--very reluctantly drove them back with violence.

Cook was so kindly, so humane, so unused to oppress another merely because his skin was coloured, that his action caused comment even in his own day. That the great navigator himself regretted the impulse which had led him to depart from his usual magnanimous methods, is evident from the excuses he afterwards put forward in explanation of his conduct.

During the next six months Cook circumnavigated the islands, discovering the strait which bears his name between the North and the Middle Island. Stewart Island he presumed to be the southern extremity of the Middle Island and, as regards the country, this was one of the very few errors he made.

Fully alive to the warlike disposition of the Maori, Captain Cook yet recognised their generosity, their agreeable behaviour to strangers who did not presume too far, and the unusual gentleness of their attitude towards their women. "The Englishman who marries a Maori," he tells us, "must first obtain the consent of her parents and, this done, ... is obliged to treat her with at least as much delicacy as in England." In many passages Cook shows how clearly he perceived the superiority of these "Indians" over ordinary savages. Moreover, despite certain pronounced faults, and the prevalence of one odious custom, he readily admits their chivalrous nature.

Yet he occasionally fell into the common error of crediting the race with the disposition of the individual, so that, if one lied or thieved, the natives in that particular part are set down as "lying and thievish." But, though they opposed his efforts to explore the interior of the country, and so disappointed him, Captain Cook's experience among the Maori left him little to complain of; while the failings they displayed might well have been recognised as, first, the faults of their age and race, and second, the faults common to all men, white, brown, yellow, or black.

Still, for all his criticisms, Captain Cook was never personally harsh in his dealings with the Maori, and it would have been well had his subordinates imitated more exactly his fine magnanimity. The following account of an Englishman's hasty temper, and the cool judgment, not to say generosity, of the Maori chiefs, is very instructive.

On one occasion, when a party of Maori visitors were leaving the ship, Lieutenant Gore missed a piece of calico, which he was possibly endeavouring to exchange for native articles. Confident that a certain Maori had stolen the stuff, Gore deliberately fired at the man as he sat in the canoe, and killed him. The lieutenant was right in his belief, for, when the canoe reached the shore, the blood-stained calico was found beneath the dead man; but his action was that of a savage--worse, since he, no doubt, claimed a higher order of mind. The only excuse that can be offered for Gore is that he lived at a time when even children were hanged for stealing trifles, and he may have believed himself entitled to mete out this rough-and-ready justice.

What followed? The Maori--admittedly savages--did not at once return and clamour for revenge; though an eye for an eye and blood for blood was one of the strongest articles in their creed. No; the chiefs took the matter in hand, calmly and dispassionately judged the dead man and found him guilty of theft. Therefore, they determined that _utu_ should not be exacted on account of the killing of their tribesman. That they were perfectly sincere, and did not seek to disguise sentiments of hatred and desire for revenge under a mask of forgiveness, is entirely proved by the fact that Captain Cook landed after this unhappy occurrence and went about among them just as if nothing had happened.

It is right to say that Captain Cook was no party to his subordinate's impetuous action, for violence was foreign to his methods. Says one of his biographers--"It was impossible for any one to excel Captain Cook in kindness of disposition, as is evident from the whole tenor of his behaviour, both to his own men and to the many savage tribes with whom he had occasion to interfere."

So convinced was Captain Cook of the advantage this beautiful country must some day prove to Britain, that he took nominal possession of the islands in the name of King George the Third. Yet it was not until 1787, eight years after the death of Cook, that New Zealand was included by royal commission within the British dominions, while another quarter of a century elapsed before Europe, at the Peace of 1814, recognised Great Britain's claim.

How good a use Captain Cook made of the six months he spent in New Zealand before he sailed to gather fresh laurels in Australia, any one may read for himself in the story of his voyages. On each occasion he introduced useful plants and animals into the islands, and it was due to him that the animal food which the Maori had always lacked, became so readily procurable in the shape of pigs, which soon after their introduction ran wild and multiplied. The sweet potato was there already; but it is to Cook that New Zealand owes the ordinary potato, the turnip, cabbage, and other vegetables and fruit.

Te Tanewha described Captain Cook as a reserved man who "constantly walked apart, swinging his right arm from side to side." This has been held to mean that, whenever Captain Cook landed, he scattered the seeds of useful plants, in the hope that they would grow and fructify.

There were further misunderstandings when Cook revisited the Islands in 1779, the worst of them being wholly due to the wicked action of an English sailor who first robbed and then shot a Maori. With the slaughter of the natives which followed Cook had nothing to do; more, the great navigator, who was as true and generous a gentleman as ever stepped, completely absolved the Maori from blame.

This was happily the last difficulty; for Cook arrived at a better understanding with the Maori and a clearer conception of the fine character which underlay their faults. The natives, too, showed an ever-increasing confidence in their famous visitor, whom they affectionately styled "Cookie." Notwithstanding their regard, they never allowed him to penetrate far inland.

Had Cook not been the just and temperate man he was, he might have pierced the interior with an armed force, composed of his own men and aborigines, and depopulated the land.

During the period of Captain Cook's visits the Maori were constantly at war, and the unwillingness of the coast tribes to allow him to proceed inland was probably due to their fear that he would aid the chiefs there, return, and exterminate them. So they first obstructed the progress of the explorer, and then made certain grim, but exceedingly practical, proposals to him.

These in effect were that Captain Cook should join forces with this tribe or that, proceed inland, and duly exterminate--everybody. This excellent scheme, properly carried through, would have left certain of the coast tribes supreme until civil strife began again to divide them. But what if Cook had turned upon them in their turn?

Fortunately this was not Captain Cook's way; but that he recognised what was at the bottom of all these requests for help is clear from his own words:--

"Had I acted as some members of almost every tribe with whom we had dealings would have had me act, I might have extirpated the entire New Zealand race."

Could any words more distinctly show the good disposition of Captain Cook, and at the same time prove how plagued the Maori were with internecine wars?

The day came at length when this great and good man, who did so much for Britain, must say a last farewell to the country towards which he seemed so singularly drawn. For it was written that he should never again see the Waters of Greenstone or the land of his birth, but should fall a victim to his own humanity at the hands of savages whom he was endeavouring to protect.

Such was the admiration which this great navigator and good man inspired that, when war was declared between England and France in 1779, the French Minister of Marine issued orders to the navy that, if encountered at sea, the ship of Captain Cook was to be treated with courtesy. "For," said he, "honour, reason, and even interest, dictate this act of respect for humanity; nor should we treat as an enemy the common benefactor of every European nation." The Americans, then at the height of their struggle for freedom, had already anticipated this generous action by the mouth of their famous citizen, Benjamin Franklin.

Captain Cook was dead before knowledge of this splendid tribute to his services and to his virtues could reach him; but, being dead, he was not forgotten, for the whole world mourned his loss and honoured his memory, as it has done ever since.

When Captain Cook died Britain was just awaking to a realisation of the evils of slavery, and beginning to recognise and endeavour to obviate the fact that, when and wherever the white man appeared among the coloured races, the latter invariably suffered. How intensely Captain Cook realised this, how earnestly he set himself to afford a good example to those who should come after him, and how his countrymen appreciated his aims and his success, these lines from Hannah More's poem on "Slavery" show:--

Had those advent'rous spirits who explore, Thro' ocean's trackless wastes, the far-sought shore, Whether of wealth insatiate, or of power, Conquerors who waste, or ruffians who devour; Had these possessed, O Cook, thy gentle mind, Thy love of arts, thy love of human-kind; Had these pursu'd thy mild and gentle plan, DISCOVERERS had not been a curse to man!