In the evening, the weather being more moderate, we again made sail; but, about midnight, it blew so violently, as to split both the fore and main topsails. On the morning of the 7th, we bent fresh sails, and had fair weather, and a light breeze. At noon, the latitude, by observation, was 20° 1' N., the W. point of the island bearing S., 7° E., and the N.W. point N., 38° E. As we were, at this time, four or five leagues from the shore, and the weather very unsettled, none of the canoes would venture out, so that our guests were obliged to remain with us, much, indeed, to their dissatisfaction; for they were all sea-sick, and many of them had left young children behind them.
In the afternoon, though the weather was still squally, we stood in for the land, and being about three leagues from it, we saw a canoe, with two men paddling towards us, which we immediately conjectured had been driven off the shore by the late boisterous weather; and therefore stopped the ship's way, in order to take them in. These poor wretches were so entirely exhausted with fatigue, that had not one of the natives on board, observing their weakness, jumped into the canoe to their assistance, they would scarcely have been able to fasten it to the rope we had thrown out for that purpose. It was with difficulty we got them up the ship's side, together with a child, about four years old, which they had lashed under the thwarts of the canoe, where it had lain with only its head above water. They told us, they had left the shore the morning before, and had been from that time without food or water. The usual precautions were taken in giving them victuals; and the child being committed to the care of one of the women, we found them all next morning perfectly recovered.
At midnight, a gale of wind came on, which obliged us to double reef the topsails, and get down the top-gallant yards. On the 8th, at day-break, we found that the foremast had again given way, the fishes, which were put on the head, in King George's, or Nootka Sound, on the coast of America, being sprung, and the parts so very defective, as to make it absolutely necessary to replace them, and, of course, to unstep the mast. In this difficulty, Captain Cook was for some time in doubt, whether he should run the chance of meeting with a harbour in the islands to leeward, or return to Karakakooa. That bay was not so remarkably commodious, in any respect, but that a better might probably be expected, both for the purpose of repairing the masts, and for procuring refreshments, of which, it was imagined, that the neighbourhood of Karakakooa had been already pretty well drained. On the other hand, it was considered as too great a risk to leave a place that was tolerably sheltered, and which, once left, could not be regained, for the mere hopes of meeting with a better; the failure of which might, perhaps, have left us without resource.
We, therefore, continued standing on toward the land, in order to give the natives an opportunity of releasing their friends on board from their confinement; and at noon, being within a mile of the shore, a few canoes came off to us, but so crowded with people, that there was not room in them for any of our guests; we therefore hoisted out the pinnace to carry them on shore; and the master, who went with them, had directions to examine the south coasts of the bay for water; but returned, without finding any.
The winds being variable, and a current setting strong to the northward, we made but little progress in our return; and at eight o'clock in the evening of the 9th, it began to blow very hard from the south-east, which obliged us to close reef the topsails; and at two in the morning of the 10th, in a heavy squall, we found ourselves close in with the breakers, that lie to the northward of the west point of Owhyhee. We had just room to haul off, and avoid them, and fired several guns to apprise the Discovery of the danger.
In the forenoon the weather was more moderate, and a few canoes came off to us; from which we learnt that the late storms had done much mischief, and that several large canoes had been lost. During the remainder of the day we kept beating to windward; and, before night, we were within a mile of the bay; but, not choosing to run on while it was dark, we stood off and on till day-light next morning, when we dropt anchor nearly in the same place as before.
Footnote 1:[ (return) ]
See description of the morai in the preceding Section.
Footnote 2:[ (return) ]
Let the reader keep this intimation in mind, when he comes to judge of the melancholy transactions which issued in the death of Cook. It is most clear, that these people were disposed to be on good terms with their visitors; but that they were equally sensible, on the other hand, of the burden which so many half-starved guests had imposed on their hospitality. Even this, however, it would seem, they were willing to bear, provided only they had had time to make arrangements to do so, in a manner consistent with their own notions of good cheer. It is perfectly easy then to understand, that when, instead of the necessary absence of the strangers till the next season of plenty, there elapsed a few days only, as we shall find, it was impossible for them to form any other conception of the nature or object of the visit, than what served to give a very different direction to their feelings. And yet perhaps we shall be induced to believe, that all their surprise and uneasiness would have quietly subsided, if an unfortunate, and, in fact, merely partial altercation had not excited it beyond its original intensity, and produced a momentary determination to get rid by any means of such troublesome encroachers.—E.