Toward eleven thirty, it was a couple of cable lengths from the brig, and it approached closer as though it were intending to “study” them. Moreover, a very calm sea would favor the maneuver, and presented no risk. Aboard the ship there were no preparations for lowering a tender, and the questions and answers were exchanged by means of a megaphone, which was the usual way.
And this is what was said between the steamer and the brig, in English:
“The name of your ship?”
“The James Cook out of Hobart Town.”
“Captain?”
“Captain Gibson, and you?”
“The Assumption, out of Nantes. Captain Foucault.”25
“You’re heading?”
“To Sydney, Australia.”
“Understood.”
“And you? …”
“To Port Praslin, New Ireland.”
“And you’re from Auckland? …”
“No, Wellington.”
“I see.”
“Good voyage to you, Captain Foucault!”
“And you?”
“From Ambon in the Moluccas.”26
“Good sailing? …”
“Fine. One piece of information. At Ambon they are very anxious about the schooner Wilhelmina,27 out of Rotterdam, which is a month overdue, coming from Auckland. Have you any news of it?”
“None.”
“I’ve come up from the west, across the Coral Sea,” declared Captain Foucault, “and we’ve not sighted her. Are you expecting to head east for New Ireland?”
“That’s where we intend on going.”
“It’s possible that the Wilhelmina has been disabled in some storm.”
“Possible, all right.”
“We ask you to kindly keep an eye out for her while crossing these seas …”
“We’ll keep an eye out.”
“Very good. Have a good voyage, Captain Gibson.”
“And good voyage to you, Captain Foucault!”
An hour later, the James Cook had lost sight of the steamer and was sailing up the coast toward the northwest, heading for Norfolk Island.28
6
In Sight of Norfolk Island
A nearly perfect quadrilateral island on three sides, its fourth side features a rounded coastline that rises and modifies its regularity by jutting toward the northwest. At its four corners are Point Howe, Northeast Point, Point Blackbourne, and Rocky Point. More unusual, there is a peak, Mount Pitt, which rises some eleven hundred feet above the sea. Such is the geometrical layout of Norfolk Island,1 situated in this area of the Pacific at 29 degrees 02 south latitude and 105 degrees 42 east longitude.2
This island has but six leagues of perimeter, and like most of the islands in this vast ocean, it is surrounded by a coral ring that protects it as a wall defends a city. The swells of the deep sea will never gnaw away its base of yellow chalk that a light surf would be enough to destroy, since the waves of the open sea crush each other against the coral reef before reaching it. So ships can reach it only with difficulty, slipping in between narrow and dangerous passes, exposed to all the surprises of currents and eddies. As for a so-called port, none exists in Norfolk. It is only on its southern shore, in the bay of Sydney, that penitentiaries were established. By its isolated location and by the difficulty of landing or leaving, it seems indeed that nature had destined this island to be nothing but a prison.
It is appropriate to mention also that in the south, toward Nepean Island and Philips Island, which complete the small Norfolk group, these coral reefs stretch out as much as six or seven leagues from the shore.
However, despite its restricted dimensions, it is a rich parcel of Great Britain’s colonial domain. When Cook discovered it in 1774, he was first struck by its admirable vegetation growing in that climate, both gentle and warm, of the tropics. It might have been considered a basket taken directly from the flora of New Zealand, ornamented as it was with identical plants. A flax of superior quality grew there, the “phormium tenax,”3 and a species of pine of great beauty belonging to the genus of araucarias. Then, as far as the eye could see, verdant plains stretched out where wild sorrel and fennel grew. Already, at the beginning of the century, the British government had transported a colony of convicts to the island. Thanks to the work of these unfortunates, patches of forest were cleared, agricultural labors were undertaken, and the resulting corn crop became such that bushels were counted by the thousands. It was a sort of granary of abundance there, placed between Australia and New Zealand. But too many reefs and shoals occupied the approaches to the island, preventing one from taking advantage of these harvests in any practical way.
The port of Auckland (from E.-E. Morris, L’Australasie pittoresque)
So, the establishment of a penitentiary there, in the presence of these obstacles, had to be abandoned after this first attempt. It is true that this island could very easily hold under an iron yoke the most hardened criminals of Tasmania and New Wales. So the penal colony was later reorganized. It then held as many as five hundred convicts watched over by one hundred and eighty soldiers, and an administration of five hundred employees. A public farm was developed, and the corn harvest assured their food supply in grain.
Moreover, the island of Norfolk was uninhabited at the time when the great navigator Cook established its geographic location. No native, Maori or Malaysian, had been attracted to it despite the richness of the soil. It never had any population other than those condemned by the British government. It was deserted at the time of its discovery, and deserted it became afterward. In 1842, for the second, and no doubt the last, time, England abandoned the penitentiary establishment, which was transported to Port Arthur,4 on the south coast of Tasmania.
Four days after having glimpsed the last vestiges of New Zealand, the James Cook sighted Norfolk Island. With a modest wind, it had gone eighty miles during the second day, a hundred and twenty during day three, as many again on day four, and, the breeze having dropped, only seventy on the fifth day. So toward evening, it had covered the distance of roughly four hundred miles that separates the two islands.
That afternoon, the watch pointed out a mountain that towered in the northeast. It was the peak of Mount Pitt, and by five o’clock the ship was located off the northeast point of Norfolk Island.
In the course of his navigation, Mr. Gibson had had this section of the Pacific carefully surveyed. No wreckage of a ship had been encountered along the route of the James Cook, and the mystery of the Dutch ship’s disappearance still remained to be solved.
As the sun set behind the peaks of the island, the wind fell and the sea took on a milky appearance, the waves disappearing from its surface, scarcely rolling from the long swell. Surely, the next day the brig would still be in sight of the island. It was but two miles away, and, being cautious, the captain avoided any nearer approach, for the coral banks stretched dangerously out into the sea. Besides, the James Cook was practically as motionless as if it had been anchored. No current stirred it; the sails hung from the yardarms in heavy folds. If the breeze came up, all they would have to do was to let them fall to get under way.
So Mr. Gibson and his passengers had only to enjoy this magnificent evening under a cloudless sky.
After