The passports from the English Government.
Sailing of the expedition.
French interest in it.
The case of Ah Sam.
Baudin's obstinacy.
Short supplies.
The French ships on the Western Australian coast.
The Ile Lucas and its name.
Refreshment at Timor.
The English frigate Virginia.
Baudin sails south.
Shortage of water.
The French in Tasmania.
Peron among the aboriginals.
The savage and the boat.
Among native women.
A question of colour.
Separation of the ships by storm.
Baudin sails through Bass Strait, and meets Flinders.
Scurvy.
Great storms and intense suffering.
Le Geographe at Port Jackson.
England and France were at war when, in June 1800, application was made
to the British Admiralty for passports for the French discovery ships.
Earlier in that year the Government of the Republic sent to London Louis
Guillaume Otto, a diplomatist of experience and tried discretion, to
arrange for the exchange of prisoners of war; and it was Otto, whose tact
and probity won him the esteem of King George's advisers, who conducted
the preliminary negotiations which led up to the Treaty of Amiens. Earl
Spencer was First Lord of the Admiralty--in Pitt's administration (1783
to 1801)--when the application was made.
The Quarterly Review of August 1810 (volume 4 page 42) fell into a
singular error in blaming Addington's administration for the issue of the
passports. Pitt's ministry did not fall till March 1801; and the censure
which the reviewer levelled at the "good-natured minister," Earl St.
Vincent, who was Addington's First Lord of the Admiralty, for
entertaining the French application, was therefore undeserved by him. "A
few months after the retirement of Mr. Pitt from office and the
succession of Mr. Addington, that is to say, in June 1800," are the
opening words of the Quarterly article--an extraordinary blunder for a
contemporary to make. The Quarterly was, of course, bitterly adverse to
Addington's administration, in politics; but though party bias is
responsible for strange behaviour, we shall be safe in attributing to
lapse of memory this censure of a minister for the act of his
predecessor. St. Vincent was in active service, as Admiral in command of
the Channel Fleet, when the passports were issued.
It cannot be assumed that Spencer would have complied with such a request
from a nation with which his country was at war, had he not been
satisfied that the expedition was what it professed to be, one for
discovery and scientific research. The passports granted guaranteed to Le
Geographe and Le Naturaliste protection from hostile attack from British
ships, and bespoke for them a favourable reception in any British port
out of Europe where they might have to seek shelter.
The Admiralty was in later years severely blamed for compliance.
Circumstances that have been narrated in previous pages generated the
suspicion that the real purpose of the expedition was "to ascertain the
real state of New Holland, to discover what our colonists were doing, and
what was left for the French to do, on this great continent in the event
of a peace, to find some port in the neighbourhood of our settlements
which should be to them what Pondicherry was to Hindustan, to rear the
standard of Bonaparte on the first convenient spot."* (* Quarterly Review
4 43. There can be no doubt that this Quarterly article had a great
influence in formulating the idea which has been current for nearly a
century regarding Napoleon's deep designs. Paterson's History of New
South Wales (1811) repeated portions of the article almost verbally, but
without quotation marks (see Preface page 5), and many later writers have
fed upon its leading themes, without submitting them to examination.) The
fact that this sweeping condemnation was made in a powerful organ of
opinion bitterly hostile to the administration which it meant to attack,
would minimise its importance for us, a century later, were it not that
more recent writers have adopted the same assumption. To accept it, we
have not merely to disregard the total absence of evidence, but to
believe that Spencer was befooled and that Otto deceived him. The
application was, it was urged, "grounded on false pretences," and the
passports were "fraudulently obtained." It would have been a piece of
audacity of quite superb coolness for the French diplomatist to ask for
British protection for ships on ostensible grounds of research, had their
secret purpose been exactly opposite to the profession; and the British
Minister would have been guilty of grave dereliction of duty had he not
assured himself that Otto's representations were reliable.
The letter of instructions furnished by the Duke of Portland, Secretary
of State in Pitt's administration, to Grant, the commander of the Lady
Nelson, in February 1800, may be quoted as laying down the principle
observed by Great Britain in regard to an enemy's ships commissioned
purely for discovery. "As vessels fitted out for this purpose," wrote the
Duke, "have always been respected by the nations of Europe,
notwithstanding actual hostilities may at the time have existed between
them, and as this country has always manifested the greatest attention to
other nations on similar occasions, as you will observe by the letters
written in favour of vessels employed in discovery by France and Spain,
copies of which you receive enclosed, I have no apprehension whatever of
your suffering any hindrance or molestation from the ships of other
nations should you fall in with them...You are also, on pain of His
Majesty's utmost displeasure, to refrain on your part from making prizes,
or from detaining or molesting the ships of any other nation, although
they may be at war with His Majesty."* (* Historical Records of New South
Wales 4 57.)
It was on this enlightened principle that the British Government
furnished passports to Baudin's ships; but the Admiralty also took steps
to prevent the laurels of important discovery being won by foreign
efforts. Flinders returned home in the Reliance in August, vigorous,
eager for fresh work, and already, notwithstanding his youth, honourably
regarded by naval men as an intrepid and skilful navigator. Lord Spencer,
the head of a family eminently distinguished for the great administrators
whom it has furnished for the furtherance of British polity, did a far
wiser thing than attempting to block French researches, from suspicion,
jealousy, or fear of consequences. He entertained the suggestion of Sir
Joseph Banks, ordered the fitting out of the Investigator, and placed her
under the command of the one man in the Navy who knew what discovery work
there was to do, and how to accomplish it speedily. Pitt's consummate
judgment in the selection of men for crucial work has often been
eulogised, and never too warmly; but one can hardly over-praise the
sagacity of Pitt's colleague at the Admiralty, who especially commended
Nelson as the officer to checkmate Bonaparte in the Mediterranean in
1798,* (* See Mahan's Life of Nelson (1899 edition) page 275.) and, on
the more pacific side of naval activity, commissioned Matthew Flinders to
complete the discovery of Australia in 1800.
Baudin's expedition was ready to sail from Havre at the end of September,
but was delayed by contrary winds. The delay was considered by a friendly
contemporary to be fortunate, in that it enabled the officers and
scientific staff to become friendly, so that the most perfect harmony
existed amongst them.* (* Moniteur, 29th Vendemiaire, Revolutionary Year
8 (1800).) French readers of the official organ of the Government were
also assured that everybody on the two ships had merited confidence in
the talent of the chiefs; in which case their disappointment with later
developments must have been all the more profound. The public and the
journals took a lively interest in the enterprise; and the author of one
of the world's great stories, Bernardin de Saint Pierre, from his
experience of tropical life in the island where Paul and Virginia lived
and loved, lectured at the Institute on the dietetic regime which ought
to be observed by Captain Baudin and his men.* (* Moniteur, 16th
Vendemiaire.) But however valuable his advice may have been, it was sadly
disregarded.
A livelier function was a banquet given to Baudin at the Hotel de la
Rochefoucauld, in Paris, on the 7th Fructidor, by the Societe de
l'Afrique Interieure. It was attended by several leading members of the
Institute, and an account of it was accorded over a column of space in
the Moniteur.* (* 22nd Fructidor.) Baudin was seated between Bougainville
and Vaillant, an African traveller. There was music, and song, and a long
toast list, with many eloquent speeches. Baudin submitted the toast of
Bonaparte, "First Consul of the French Republic and protector of the
expedition"; Jussieu proposed the progress of the sciences; the company
drank to the "amelioration of the lot of savage races, and may their
civilisation result from the visit which the French are about to pay to
them"; and the immortal memory of La Perouse was honoured in silence. The
last toast appropriately expressed the wish that the whole company might
reassemble in the same place on the return of the expedition, "inspired
by the purest zeal for the progress of the sciences and of
enlightenment." A short poem was also recited, which it is worth while to
rescue from the inaccessibility of the Moniteur file:--
"Vous quittez aujourd'hui la France
Mais vous emportez tous nos voeux,
Et deja vos succes heureux
Partout sont applaudis d'avance.
Sur le coeur de tous les mortels
Votre gloire a jamais se fonde,
Il n'est pas de pays au monde
Ou le savoir n'ait des autels."
The poet who thus applauded success in advance, probably lived long
enough to realise that it is much easier to make fair verses than a true
prediction.
There was another banquet at Havre while the ships were awaiting a fair
wind, when again high hopes were expressed concerning the results to be
achieved by the expedition, and where one of the toasts was proposed by a
Chinese, Ah Sam, who had been found on board a captured English frigate,
and was, by Bonaparte's orders, being taken by Baudin to Mauritius,
whence he was to be shipped to his own country. Ah Sam's toast descended
from ethereal altitudes and took a purely personal view of the situation.
He drank "Aux Francais, bons amis d'A Sam."* (* Moniteur, 21st
Vendemiaire.) The Chinaman had reason to be grateful, for the First
Consul had, by an order over his own signature, directed that he should
be placed under Baudin's charge, and conveyed to his own country at the
expense of the Government, and that there should be shown to him that
consideration which he merited, both because he was a stranger and
because of his good conduct while residing within the territories of the
Republic.* (* Correspondence of Napoleon, 1861 collection Volume 6,
letter dated 7th Vendemiaire, Revolutionary Year 9 (September 29, 1800).)
The treatment of Ah Sam was an example of that kindness which Napoleon,
ruthless in war, so often displayed towards those who touched his
sympathies.* (* Peron mentioned Ah Sam's case (1 11), but Freycinet, in
his second edition, cut out the paragraph, in pursuance of his policy of
suppressing references to Napoleon; Peron having written that the
Chinaman had reason to bless the generosity and goodness of the First
Consul. It was not politic in 1824 to talk about Napoleon's generosity
and goodness. But how paltry was the spirit thus displayed!)
The expedition sailed from Havre on the morning of October 19, 1800,
amidst cordial popular demonstrations from the inhabitants of that
bustling seaport, and many wishes that fortune might crown the efforts of
the explorers with success. The captain of the English frigate Proselite,
which was watching the harbour mouth, scrutinised the passports and
permitted the ships to pass; and, with a fair wind to fill his sails,
Baudin put out into the Channel and steered for the open ocean, bound due
south.
Peron, in his history of the voyage, severely blamed the obstinacy of
"notre chef"--mention of his name being carefully avoided--for the delay
occasioned on the run down to the Cape of Good Hope. Captain Baudin,
disregarding the advice of his officers, insisted on sailing fairly close
to the African coast, instead of making a more westerly course. He
argued, according to Peron, that the route which he favoured was nearer,
and as a matter of mileage he was right. But winds and currents should
have been considered rather than bare distance; and the simple result of
bad seamanship was that Baudin's vessels occupied one hundred and
forty-five days on the voyage from Havre to Mauritius, where they stayed
to refit, whilst Flinders brought out the Investigator from Spithead the
whole way to Cape Leeuwin, where he first made the Australian coast, in
one hundred and forty-two days. The French vessels lay at Mauritius for
the leisurely space of forty days, and did not reach Australia till May
27, two hundred and twenty days after their departure from France.
Even then, had reasonable diligence been exercised in the pursuit of the
exploratory work for which his ships had been commissioned, Baudin would
have had the honour of discovering the unknown southern coast; for
Flinders was not allowed to leave England till July 17, 1801, fifty-one
days after the French actually arrived on the shores of Australia. The
prize of discovery slipped from Baudin's reach in consequence of his
"dawdling" methods, which brought about those "consequences facheuses et
irreparables" deplored by the naturalist.
Soon after the expedition left Mauritius, the officers and crew were
surprised to learn that the supplies of bread were short "and that for
the future ships' biscuit and salt meat would constitute the principal
part of the diet. The wine brought from France had also been nearly
consumed. Instead of the latter, a cheap, unwholesome drink, tafia,
bought at the island, was to be served out. This was amazing and
depressing news, considering the lavishness with which the Government had
fitted out the ships, and that nearly six weeks had been spent at a
French colonial possession. By this time, too, as is clear from Peron's
narrative, very little affection for the commander remained. The delays
already permitted had brought the expedition in face of the prospect of
exploring the southern coasts of New Holland in the winter season. Baudin
considered it unwise to undertake the work in Tasmanian seas, according
to the programme prepared for him, during months when severe storms would
probably be encountered; and he consequently determined not to sail
farther south on making Cape Leeuwin, but to explore the western coasts
of the continent, reserving the work which the Institute had put first to
be done in the following spring. Peron blamed him for this decision,
inasmuch as the course prescribed in the instructions was the result of
careful thought and extensive research. But though the procrastination
which had let slip the months best suited for exploration in southern
waters was caused by Baudin's own lack of energy and knowledge, his
resolve not to entrust his ships on an unknown coast, where he knew of no
secure harbours, in the months of tempest and cold, was prudent.
On making the Leeuwin, therefore, Baudin steered north. Geography Bay and
Cape Naturaliste, upon current maps, mark the commencement of his work on
the shores of Western Australia. From Sharks Bay the vessels pursued the
course of the first Englishman to explore any portion of the Australian
coast, the resolute, observant, tough old salt, William Dampier. The
biographical dictionary was here for the first time brought forth, and
the names within it were scattered liberally over the lands traversed.
Some of them have adhered, though Baudin's voyage along these shores was
by no means one of discovery, and there is clear evidence that names were
applied to parts which his ships did not investigate with any approach to
care. The Golfe Joseph Bonaparte of the large French chart, if traced
with some degree of particularity, would have led to several highly
important discoveries. But it was not carefully investigated at all, and
thus Baudin totally missed Bathurst Island and Melville Island, which
together stretch for over one hundred miles across the entrance to Van
Diemen's Gulf. Instead of definiteness of outline, the French charts
presented the world with a bristling array of names affixed to contours
which were cloudy and ill-defined, incomplete and inaccurate.
The most serious omission of all was the superb natural harbour of Port
Darwin, the finest anchorage in northern Australia. The French missed it
altogether. Yet here also they peppered their chart of the neighbouring
coasts with the names of their notable countrymen, as though they had
explored the environs meticulously. Baudin certainly lost a fine
opportunity of doing good original work in north-western Australia; and
had his real object been to find a suitable site for French settlement,
his research would have been amply rewarded had he found the port which
now bears the noble name of the greatest modern man of science. There is,
however, one French name which should not escape mention, since it serves
to remind us that Peron was writing his book at the time when, amidst the
smoke and flame and thunder of Trafalgar, two fleets locked in fierce
conflict were deciding momentous issues. Off the very broken coast of
what is now the Kimberley division of Western Australia, the French
styled a small cluster of rocky islets the Isles d'Arcole; and one of
these was named Ile Lucas, "in honour of the captain of the vessel which,
in the combat of the Redoutable against the Victory, has lately attained
so much honour."* (* Peron, Voyage de Decouvertes 1 136.) The English
reader will scarcely need to be reminded that it was by a shot from the
mizzen top of the Redoutable in that immortal fight that Nelson received
his death wound; and thus, by giving his name to a desolate rock, was it
sought to honour the captain of the ship that had accounted for the death
of a nation's hero. The French charting was so inferior that it is
scarcely possible to identify the Ile Lucas, which is not marked at all
on the large Carte Generale, probably because that was finished before
Trafalgar was fought; though the passage in Peron's book is somewhat
valuable as showing that the pepper-box sprinkling of names along coasts
explored with less sufficiency than pretentiousness was not entirely
Baudin's work. The commander of the expedition died before Trafalgar was
fought, so that, as on other grounds we have reason to infer, he was less
responsible for the nomenclature than Freycinet made it appear when that
feature of the work became somewhat discreditable.
Scurvy broke out on Le Geographe while the voyage along the western and
north-western coasts was in progress. Water, too, was becoming scarce,
and there seemed to be little opportunity of replenishing the supply on
these barren shores. The ship had likewise become separated from her
consort, Le Naturaliste, "owing to the false calculations of the chief
charged with directing their common movements," as averred by Freycinet.
Baudin decided to sail to the Dutch possession at Timor, where he might
be able to re-victual, take in fresh water, and enable his crew to
recover from their disease, which was fast reducing them to helplessness.
He therefore discontinued the further exploration of the north-west
coast, and, on August 18, entered Kupang.
There Le Naturaliste also appeared rather more than a month later, and
the two ships remained in the Dutch port till November 13, Baudin's
vessel having thus been at anchor fifty-six days. There was no hurrying.
In the month of October an English frigate, the Virginia, suddenly made
her appearance in the offing, with her decks cleared for action. Her
captain had heard of two French vessels being at Kupang, and, supposing
them to be lawful prize of war, he had clapped on all sail and descended
on the quiet little port with the joyful anticipation of finding brisk
business to do. But when he was informed that the two were exploring
ships, and had examined their passports, the English commander gallantly
expressed "his especial esteem and consideration for the object of our
voyage"; and, hearing that Captain Baudin was ill, even offered a present
of excellent wine. It was a shining, graceful little incident, pleasant
to read about in a story in which there is a surfeit of discontent,
disease, and bad feeling. The frigate, having satisfied herself that
there was no fighting to enjoy, made off without firing a shot.
After the long sojourn at Timor, it might have been expected that when
the expedition sailed for the south of Tasmania, the ships would be in a
clean and wholesome condition, the crews and staff in good health, and
the supplies of food and water abundant. But distressing fortunes
followed in Baudin's wake at every stage of the voyage. Leaving Kupang on
November 13, the vessels were only six days' sail from that port when
insufficiency of water led to revolting practices, described by Peron.
"We were so oppressed by the heat," he says, "and our ration of water was
so meagre, that unhappy sailors were seen drinking their urine. All the
representations of the ship's doctor with a view of increasing for the
time being the quantity of water supplied, and diminishing the ration
when cooler latitudes were reached, were useless."* (* Peron, 1824
edition 2 7.) It is not wonderful that scurvy broke out again with
increased virulence.
It is more pleasant to turn to the somewhat prolonged stay made in
southern Tasmania. At this time, it should be recollected, there was no
European settlement on the beautiful and fertile island which then bore
the name of the old Dutch governor of Java, Anthony Van Diemen. Indeed,
it was only so recently as 1798 that Flinders and Bass, in the Norfolk,
had demonstrated that it really was an island, by sailing round it. On
previous charts, principally founded on that of Cook--the map attached to
the history of Bougainville's voyage (1771) is particularly
interesting--it had been represented as a long projection from the
mainland, shaped like a pig's snout. Not only Abel Tasman, the discoverer
(1642), but the French explorers, Marion-Dufresne (1772) and
Dentrecasteaux (1791), and the English navigators, Cook, Furneaux, Cox,
and Bligh, had visited it.* (* See Backhouse Walker, Early Tasmania,
published by the Royal Society of Tasmania, Hobart 1902.) But as yet the
European had merely landed for fresh water, or had explored the south
coast very slightly as a matter of curiosity, and the aboriginal race was
still in unchallenged possession. Had Baudin been furnished with
instructions to look for a place for French settlement, very little
diligence and perspicacity would have enabled him to fix upon a spot
suitable to the point of perfection before the English at Port Jackson
knew of his whereabouts in these seas at all. He might have planted the
tricolour under the shadow of Mount Wellington, on the site of Hobart,
and furnished it from his ships with the requisites for endurance till he
could speed to the Isle of France and bring out the means of establishing
a stable settlement. But though the geographical work done in this region
was important and of good quality--Freycinet being on the spot--it does
not appear that any investigations were made beyond those natural to a
scientific expedition, and certainly no steps were taken by Baudin to
assert possessive rights. Yet there was no part of Australia as to which
the French could have made out stronger claims on moral grounds; for
though the voyage of the first French navigator who landed in Tasmania
was one hundred and thirty years later than Abel Tasman's discovery,
still it was a solid fact that both Marion-Dufresne and Dentrecasteaux
had contributed more than any other Europeans had done to a knowledge of
what Tasmania was, until Flinders and Bass in their dancing little 25 ton
sloop put an end to mystery and misconception, and placed the charming
island fairly for what it was on the map of the world.
Baudin's ships rounded South-East Cape on January 13 (1802), and sailed
up Dentrecasteaux Channel into Port Cygnet. Peron found plenty to
interest him in the fauna of this strange land, and above all in the
aboriginals with whom he was able to come in contact. His chapters on the
three months' stay in southern and eastern Tasmania are full of pleasant
passages, for the naturalist had a pretty talent for descriptive writing,
was pleased with the novel things he saw, and communicated his pleasure
to his pages. Though he lacked the large grasp, the fertile
suggestiveness, of great scientific travellers like Humboldt, Darwin, and
Alfred Russel Wallace, he was curious, well informed, industrious, and
sympathetic; and as he was the first trained anthropologist to enter into
personal relations with the Tasmanian blacks--a race now become extinct
under the shrivelling touch of European civilisation--his writings
concerning them have great value, quite apart from the pleasure with
which they may be read. A couple of pages describing Peron's first
meeting with the aboriginals when out looking for water, and the
amazement of the savages on encountering the whites--an incident given
with delightful humour, and at the same time showing close and careful
observation--will be likely to be welcomed by the reader.
"In pursuing our route we came to a little cove, at the bottom of which
appeared a pretty valley, which seemed to offer the prospect of finding
sweet water. That consideration decided M. H. Freycinet to land there. We
had scarcely put foot upon the shore, when two natives made their
appearance upon the peak of a neighbouring hill. In response to the signs
of friendship that we made to them, one of them leapt, rather than
climbed, from the height of the rock, and was in the midst of us in the
twinkling of an eye. He was a young man of from twenty-two to twenty-four
years of age, of generally strong build, having no other physical fault
than the extreme slenderness of legs and arms that is characteristic of
his race. His face had nothing ferocious or forbidding about its
expression; his eyes were lively and intelligent, and his manner
expressed at once good feeling and surprise. M. Freycinet having embraced
him, I did the same; but from the air of indifference with which he
received this evidence of our interest, it was easy to perceive that this
kind of reception had no signification for him. What appeared to affect
him more, was the whiteness of our skin. Wishing to assure himself,
doubtless, if our bodies were the same colour all over, he lifted up
successively our waistcoats and our shirts; and his astonishment
manifested itself in loud cries of surprise, and above all in an
extremely rapid stamping of the feet.
"But our boat appeared to interest him even more than our persons; and
after he had examined us for some minutes, he sprang into it. There,
without troubling himself at all about the sailors whom he found in it,
he appeared as if absorbed in his examination of the novelty. The
thickness of the planks, the curves, the rudder, the oars, the masts, the
sails--all these he observed with that silent and profound attention
which are the unquestionable signs of a deep interest and a reflective
admiration. Just then, one of the boatmen, wishing doubtless to increase
his surprise, handed him a glass bottle filled with the arack which
formed part of the provisions of our search party. The shining of the
glass at first evoked a cry of astonishment from the savage, who took the
bottle and examined it for some moments. But soon, his curiosity
returning to the boat, he threw the bottle into the sea, without
appearing to have any other intention than that of getting rid of an
object to which he was indifferent; and at once resumed his examination.
Neither the cries of the sailor, who was concerned with the loss of the
bottle of arack, nor the promptness of one of his comrades to jump into
the water to recover it, appeared to concern him. He made various
attempts to push the boat free, but the mooring-rope which held it fast
making his efforts futile, he was constrained to abandon them, and
returned to us, after having given us the most striking example we had
ever had of attention and reflection among savage peoples."
Presently the companion of the young aboriginal came down the hill and
joined the group. He was an older man, about fifty years of age,
grey-bearded and grey-headed, with a frank and open countenance. He also
was permitted to satisfy himself that the Frenchmen were white-bodied as
well as white-faced; and being assured that there was nothing to fear
from these strange visitors, he signalled to two black women, who had
remained hidden during the earlier part of the interview. One was a gin
of forty, the second aged about twenty-six; both were naked. The younger
woman carried a black baby girl in a kangaroo skin, and Peron was pleased
to observe the affectionate care she showed for her child. A surprise as
great as that which the young male black had shown concerning the boat,
was manifested by the younger woman in a pair of gloves. The weather
being cold, a fire was lit, when one of the sailors, approaching it to
warm himself, took off a pair of fur gloves which he was wearing. "The
young woman, at the sight of that action, gave forth such a loud cry that
we were at first alarmed; but we were not long in recognising the cause
of her fright. We saw, from her expressions and gestures, that she had
taken the gloves for real hands, or at least for a kind of living skin,
that could be taken off, put in the pocket, and put on again at will. We
laughed much at that singular error; but we were not so much amused at
what the old man did a little later with a bottle of arack. As it
contained a great part of our drink, we were compelled to take it from
him, which he resented so much that he went off with his family, in spite
of all I could do to detain them longer."
At Bruni Island, Peron and a party of his compatriots had an adventure
with a party of twenty native women. He did not find them charming. All
were in the condition in which Actaeon saw Diana, when "all undrest the
shining goddess stood," though they did not, when discovered, glow with:
"such blushes as adorn
The ruddy welkin or the purple morn."
Indeed, they appeared to be quite unaware that there was anything
remarkable about their deficiency of clothing. "A naked Duke of
Windlestraw addressing a naked House of Lords" might have shocked them,
but not merely because he was naked. They were greatly interested when,
as a sign of friendliness, one of the Frenchmen, the doctor of Le
Naturaliste, began to sing a song. The women squatted around, in
attitudes "bizarres et pittoresques," applauding with loud cries. They
were not, however, a group of ladies for whom the Frenchmen had any
admiration to spare. Their black skins smeared with fish oil, their
short, coarse, black hair, and their general form and features, were
repulsive. Two or three young girls of fifteen or sixteen years of age
the naturalist excepted from his generally ungallant expressions of
disgust. They were agreeably formed, and their expression struck him as
being more engaging, soft, and affectionate, "as if the better qualities
of the soul should be, even amidst hordes of savages, the peculiar
appanage of youth, grace, and beauty." Peron remarked that nearly all the
older women were marked with wounds, "sad results of bad treatment by
their ferocious spouses," for the black was wont to temper affection with
discipline, and to emphasise his arguments with a club.
If the black gins gave no satisfaction to the aesthetic sense of the
naturalist, his white skin appeared to be no less displeasing to them;
and one of them made a kindly effort to colour him to her fancy. She was
one of the younger women, and had been regarding him with perhaps the
thought that he was not beyond the scope of art, though Nature had
offended in making his tint so pale. Rouge, says Mr. Meredith, is "a form
of practical adoration of the genuine." Charcoal was this lady's
substitute for rouge. A face, to please her, should be black; and, with a
compassionate desire to improve on one of Nature's bad jobs, she set to
work. She approached Peron, took up some charred sticks, rubbed them in
her hand, and then made advances to apply the black powder to his face.
He gravely submitted--in the sacred cause of science, it may be
supposed--and one of his colleagues was favoured with similar treatment.
"Haply, for I am black," he might have exclaimed with Othello after the
treatment; and the makers of charcoal complexions were charmed with their
handiwork. "We appeared then to be a great subject of admiration for
these women; they seemed to regard us with a tender satisfaction," wrote
Peron; and the reflection occurred to him "that the white European skin
of which our race is so proud is really a defect, a sort of deformity,
which must in these distant climates give place to the hue of charcoal,
dull red ochre, or clay." Bonaparte would not have concurred; for he, as
Thibaudeau tells us, emphatically told his Council of State, "I am for
the white race because I am a white man myself; that is an argument quite
good enough for me." It was hardly an argument at all; but it sufficed.
The expedition encountered extremely bad weather along the eastern coast
of Tasmania; where, also, Captain Baudin was too ill to superintend the
navigation in person. He shut himself up in his cabin, and left the ship
to his lieutenant, Henri de Freycinet. Le Naturaliste was separated from
her consort during a furious gale which raged on March 7 and 8, and the
two vessels did not meet again till both reached Port Jackson. While
making for Bass Strait, Le Geographe fell in with a small vessel engaged
in catching seals, with whose captain the French had some converse. He
told them that the British Government had sent out special instructions
to Port Jackson that, should the French exploring ships put in there,
they were to be received "with all the regard due to the nature of their
mission, and to the dignity of the nation to which they belonged"* (*
Peron, 1824 edition 2 175.)--surely a noble piece of courtesy from the
Government of a people with whom the French were then at war. It was this
intimation, there can be no doubt, that a month later determined Baudin
to go to Sydney, for Captain Hamelin of Le Naturaliste was not aware of
his intention to do so, as will appear from the following chapter. Bass
Strait was entered on March 27, and the ship followed the southern coast
of Australia until the meeting with Flinders in Encounter Bay, as
described in the earlier part of this book.
By this time, as has been related, scurvy was wreaking frightful havoc
among the crew. Before the Encounter Bay incident occurred, the French
sailors had expressed so much disgust with their putrid meat, weevilly
biscuit, and stinking water, that some of them threw their rations
overboard, even in the presence of the captain, preferring to endure the
pangs of hunger rather than eat such revolting food. After Baudin had
made those investigations which his means permitted in the region of the
two large gulfs, the winter season was again approaching, when high winds
and tempestuous seas might be anticipated. It was therefore hoped by all
on board that when the commandant decided to steer for the shelter and
succour of Port Jackson, he would, as it was only sensible that he
should, take the short route through Bass Strait. In view of the
distressed state of his company, it was positively cruel to think of
doing otherwise. But there was, it seems, a peculiar vein of perversity
in Baudin's character, which made him prone to do that which everybody
wished him not to do. We may disregard many of the disparaging sentences
in which Peron refers to "notre commandant"--never by name--because Peron
so evidently detested Baudin that he is a doubtful witness in matters of
conduct and character. We must also give due weight to the fact that we
have no statement of Baudin's point of view on any matter for which he
was blamed by colleagues who were at enmity with him. But even so, we
have his unquestionable actions upon which to form a judgment; and it is
difficult to characterise by any milder term than stupidity his
determination to sail to Port Jackson from Kangaroo Island round by the
south of Tasmania, a route at least six hundred miles out of his straight
path. That he came to this decision after having himself sailed through
Bass Strait from east to west, and thus learnt that the navigation was
free from difficulty; when he had in his possession the charts of Bass
and Flinders showing a clear course; during a period of storms when he
would be quite certain to encounter worse weather by sailing farther
south; when his crew were positively rotting with the scorbutic
pestilence that made life all but intolerable to them, and attendance
upon them almost too loathsome for endurance by the ship's surgeon; and
when his supplies were at starvation limit in point of quantity and
vermin-riddled in respect of quality that he resolved to take the long,
stormy, southern route in face of these considerations, seems hardly to
admit of explanation or excuse. "A resolution so singular spread
consternation on board," wrote Peron; and it is not wonderful that it
did. The consequence was that the voyage to Port Jackson made a story of
privations pitiful to read. The bare fact that it took Baudin from May 8
to June 20, forty-three days, to sail from Kangaroo Island to Sydney,
whilst Flinders in the Investigator, despite contrary winds, covered the
distance by the Bass Strait route in thirty days (April 9 to May 9),
including several days spent at King Island and Port Phillip, is
sufficient to show how much Baudin's obtuse temper contributed to
aggravate the distress of his people.
Peron described the weather during the voyage southward as "frightful."
"And now the storm blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'er-taking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roar'd the blast,
And southward aye we fled."
Torrents of very cold rain fell, furious squalls lashed the sea to a
boil, thick fogs obscured the atmosphere; and the ship had to be worked
by men "covered with sores and putrid ulcers, each day seeing the number
of the sick augmented." There was a short rest in Adventure Bay, Bruni
Island, for the purpose of procuring fresh water on May 20, and when the
order to sail again was given, the crew were so much enfeebled by disease
that it took them four hours to weigh the anchor. On the east coast more
storms came to harass the unfortunate men. A paragraph in Peron's own
terms will convey a sufficient sense of the agony endured on the stricken
ship.
"On June 2 and 3 the weather became very bad. Showers of rain succeeded
each other incessantly, and squalls blew with a violence that we had
never experienced before. On the 4th, during the whole day, the weather
was so frightful that, accustomed as we had become to the fury of
tempests, this last made us forget all that had preceded. Never before
had the squalls followed each other with such rapidity; never had the
billows been so tumultuous. Our ship, smitten by them, at every instant
seemed about to break asunder under the shock of the impact. In the
twinkling of an eye our foremast snapped and fell overboard, and all the
barricading that we had erected to break the force of the wind was
smashed. Even our anchors were lifted from the catheads despite the
strength of the ropes which held them. It was necessary to make them more
secure, and the ten men, who were all that were left us to work the ship,
were engaged in this work during a great part of the day. During the
night the tempest was prolonged by furious gales. The rain fell in
torrents; the sea rose even higher; and enormous waves swept over our
decks. The black darkness did not permit the simplest work to be done
without extreme difficulty, and the whole of the interior of the vessel
was flooded by sea-water. Four men were compelled to enter the hospital,
leaving only six in a condition to carry out the orders of the officer on
the bridge, and these unfortunates themselves dropped from sheer
exhaustion and fatigue. Between decks, the sick men lay about, and the
air was filled with their groans. A picture more harrowing never
presented itself to the imagination. The general consternation added to
the horror of it. We had nearly reached the point of being unable to
control the movements of the ship amidst the fury of the waves; parts of
the rigging were broken with every manoeuvre; and despite all our efforts
we could scarcely shift our sails. For a long time our commandant had had
no rest. It was absolutely necessary to get out of these stormy seas at
the extremity of the southern continent, and hasten on our course for
Port Jackson. 'At this time,' says the commandant in his journal, and the
fact was only too true, 'I had not more than four men in a fit condition
to remain on duty, including the officer in charge.' The ravages of the
scurvy can be estimated from these words. Not a soul among us was exempt
from the disease; even the animals we had on board were afflicted by it;
some, including two rabbits and a monkey, had died from it."
Slowly, painfully, as though the ship herself were diseased, like the
miserable company on board, the coast was traversed, until at last, on
June 20, Le Geographe stood off Port Jackson heads. Even then, with the
harbour of refuge in sight, the crew were so paralysed by their
affliction that they were positively unable to work her into port.* (* An
astonishing statement indeed, but here are Peron's words: "Depuis
plusieurs jours, nous nous trouvions par le travers du port Jackson sans
pouvoir, a cause de la faiblesse de nos matelots, executer les manoeuvres
necessaires pour y entrer.") But the fact that a ship in distress was
outside the heads was reported to Governor King, who was expecting Le
Geographe to arrive, and who had doubtless learnt that there was scurvy
aboard from Flinders, whose quick eye would not have failed to perceive
some trace of the sad state of affairs when he boarded the vessel in
Encounter Bay. Accordingly King sent out a boat's crew of robust
blue-jackets from the Investigator; and Peron records with what trembling
joy the afflicted Frenchmen saw the boat approaching on that June
morning. Soon the British tars climbed aboard, sails were trimmed, the
tiller was grasped by a strong hand, a brisk British officer took charge,
and the ship was brought through the blue waters of Port Jackson, where,
in Neutral Bay, her anchor was dropped.
It is not overstating the case to say that Le Geographe was snatched from
utter destruction by the prompt kindness of the British governor. A
slight prolongation of the voyage would have rendered her as helpless as
if peopled by a phantom crew; and she must have been blown before the
wind until dashed to fragments on the rocks on some uninhabited part of
the coast. The extremity of abject powerlessness had unquestionably been
reached when the wide entrance to Port Jackson could not be negotiated.
Peron regarded the dreadful condition of the vessel as furnishing a great
and terrible lesson to navigators. "These misfortunes," he wrote, "had no
other cause than the neglect of our chief of the most indispensable
precautions relative to the health of the men. He neglected the orders of
the Government in that regard; he neglected the instructions which had
been furnished to him in Europe; he imposed, at all stages of the voyage,
the most horrible privations upon his crew and his sick people." The
naturalist concluded his doleful chapter of horrors by quoting the words
of the British navigator, Vancouver, who was one of Cook's officers on
his third voyage: "It is to the inestimable progress of naval hygiene
that the English owe, in great part, the high rank that they hold to-day
among the nations." He might also have quoted, had he been aware of it,
an excellent saying of Nelson's: "It is easier for an officer to keep men
healthy than for a physician to cure them."