Right from the outset, Frank McLynn, the historian noted for his biographies of Sir Richard Burton, Henry Morton Stanley and Robert Louis Stevenson, states very clearly that Captain James Cook was the finest maritime explorer in the history of the world; not one of the finest, but the finest, without a doubt. He had no apparent fear of the sea and was confident that he could deal with the very worst the oceans could throw at him.
His journey from very poor beginnings to being lauded as master of the seas is fascinating. Cook was born in 1728 in Marton-in-Cleveland, North Yorkshire, to his labouring father James and mother Grace. He was one of six siblings and survived them all. McLynn speculates his way through Cook’s childhood and education in Great Ayton, making assumptions about demeanour and personality, and trying to fish around for tentative links to his nautical career.
He is probably right about Cook’s work ethic as a growing boy, because he had little choice but to graft and earn money to contribute to the family coffers. He was a shop assistant before becoming an apprentice merchant seaman, based in Whitby. He stayed in the merchant navy for nine years and, through his employer and acquaintances, absorbed Quaker influences that may well have shaped “his modesty, plainness, taciturnity, hatred of idleness and gossip, disbelief in a transcendent god, and general humourlessness”.
Living on the coast whetted his appetite for the sea and his apprenticeship gave him an opportunity to learn everything about ships including the functions of the sails and how to handle vessels in rough weather. The sea was his passport to better things, an escape route for an ambitious young man born into poverty.
After cutting his teeth on the Newcastle to London coal run, he joined the Royal Navy to satisfy his desire for adventure, power and money. He was identified as a talented young man and steadily rose through the ranks, gaining experience of ship-handling and crew management. He had an appetite for learning and absorbed lessons easily; he got vital surveying experience during the Seven Years’ War between Britain and France in North America, charting the Newfoundland coast, as well as improving his knowledge of maths and astronomy. And he was not afraid to get his hands dirty.
The book knits together facts, assumptions and guesswork, sometimes drowning the story in an avalanche of detail, that does not necessarily tell us anything specific about Cook’s personal relationships, psychology, behaviour or emotions. Frank McLynn shifts from conventional biography to historical perspective to sailor’s handbook with some skill while the reader moves from interesting and exhilarating episodes to more mundane, plodding passages describing technical matters to the nth degree. But it is the extent of his travels that makes Cook such an admirable and interesting historical adventurer.
His first major voyage of discovery, from 1768 to 1771, took him to Tahiti and presented the opportunity to chart New Zealand on the world map for the first time before sailing on to Australia, New Guinea and Java. The second major voyage was for exploration of the South Seas and Antarctica from 1772 to 1775.
By this time, Cook had become the first man to circumnavigate the world in both directions. His third and last major voyage had the objective of exploring more of the Pacific region. He visited New Zealand, Tonga, Tahiti and Christmas Island before discovering what are now the Hawaiian Islands.
The chapter Tragedy on Kealakekua Beach shows how McLynn can write an exciting and compelling narrative. After exploring British Columbia and Alaska, Cook headed back to Hawaii where he died in a brutal skirmish along with members of his crew and opposing local warriors. The fatal incident involved efforts to retrieve a stolen boat from Kealakekua Beach. Cook, surprisingly for an accomplished seaman, a non-swimmer, was stranded (some say abandoned) on shore and then clubbed and stabbed to death before being incinerated along with the other bodies. Conflict and antagonism with the Hawaiians, and his own men, contributed to Captain Cook’s demise. He was 51 years old.
Away from the sea, Cook’s personal life was not easy. He and his wife Elizabeth had six children – five sons and a daughter. Cook was outlived by one son and by his wife, who was 94 when she died. Her home-based story would be an interesting complement to her husband’s seafaring career. She stayed behind as housewife and mother, managing the home and bearing the emotional brunt of the tragic deaths of their children, while he sailed away and kept a distance from the domestic chores and traumas.
Captain Cook, among historians and descendants of the inhabitants of the places he visited, divides opinion. McLynn discusses his reputation as master of the seas and, according to some critics, an “evil white man”, racist, imperialist, man of violence, spreader of venereal disease and cynical killer.
His naval achievements are also called into question, because much is made of his own involvement but little about the enormous help and support he had from the Admiralty, the Royal Society, botanists and patrons as well, of course, as his officers and crews.
To some, he is a monumental and model hero. To others, the villainous personification of British and capitalist arrogance. On a recent trip to Whitby, I discovered Cook is also a tourist attraction with all that is good and noble about him on display for visitors from far and wide. There is a grand statue of him looking out to sea. On the day of my visit, I spotted a seagull on top of his head and liberal amounts of droppings on his face and shoulders – an illustration, perhaps, of this historical giant standing tall and proud, yet attracting some derision from those who may acknowledge that while he was indeed the finest maritime explorer ever, he had many personal flaws, too.
Frank McLynn has written a hefty book, one that requires patience to read and time to reflect. It is a great biography of a fascinating and important life.
