James Cook, like my Father, was, in early youth, employed along with his father, in agricultural labours.[B] His turn of mind, however, being suited to something requiring more tact than the ordinary toils in which farmers’ boys were wont to be engaged, he was removed from the work of the field to that of the counter, with the view of learning the business of a country shopkeeper. It was at the fishing town of Staiths, about ten miles north-west of Whitby, and at the shop of a Mr. W. Sanderson, haberdasher, where Cook, at the age of sixteen or seventeen, entered on his new employment; and it was whilst there that the incident, which led to his abandonment of domestic trade for sea-life, occurred.
It happened, as the early record goes, that, at a period when the coinage generally in circulation was much defaced and worn, a new and fresh looking shilling was paid in by a customer. Cook, attracted by the comparative beauty of the coin, and thinking with regret of its going forth again in the ordinary progress of business, substituted the sterling value, and appropriated the new coin, as “a pocket-piece,” to himself. It was ill-advised that he did so without previously asking permission or intimating his purpose; for the shilling had been observed by his master, its abstraction was detected, and Cook was suspected and charged with dishonesty,—a charge which the production of the shilling from his pocket seemed to confirm. His keen sense of right feeling, and of what was due to himself, rendered this incident so painful, that he determined, if he could get permission to do so, to leave his employment, as a shopkeeper, and, indulging a strongly imbibed prepossession, turn to the sea. The unmerited suffering was abundantly compensated by that good and gracious Providence, whose dispensations reach to the humblest, and specially regards the oppressed. The young shopkeeper—turned apparently by this fretful incident from his monotonous pursuits, and stimulated to seek an adventurous profession, and not opposed, but kindly aided, by his master, who had become perfectly satisfied of his integrity—was led into those paths of distinction whereby he became so highly conspicuous, if not chief among the circumnavigators of the globe!
“It is worthy of remark,” says Dr. Young, in his life of Cook, “that the coin which so forcibly attracted his notice was what is called a South-sea shilling, of the coinage of George I., marked on the reverse S.S.C., for South-sea Company; as if the name of the piece had been intended to indicate the principal fields of his future discoveries.”
If the result of disgust at his experienced indignity turned not to account, with my Father, in so eminent a degree,—it yet was so over-ruled for good as to place him at the head of the adventurers engaged in the whale-fishery of the Greenland seas, and to render his example, perseverance, and talent, highly beneficial to his country in the furtherance of that, then, extremely important branch of national enterprise.
It was in the winter of 1779-80, that my Father proceeded to carry his resolve into effect, by leaving his place and travelling to Whitby. Guided by the suggestions of a relative, to whom he had communicated his intentions, he was recommended to Mr. Chapman,—an opulent and respectable ship-owner, and a member of the Society of Friends,—with whom he engaged himself to serve as an apprentice, for three years, in a ship called the Jane, commanded by a son of the owner.
As his services, however, were not required till the ensuing spring,—because of the practice, as to ships trading to the Baltic and Archangel, “of laying them up” for the winter,—he returned immediately home, informed his father of what he had done, and then, at his suggestion, went back to the farm he had somewhat abruptly left, and there remained until his place could be satisfactorily supplied. This being speedily accomplished, he set himself arduously to work to the studying, by the help of whatever suitable books he could get hold of, of the subjects connected with his new profession.
On the 1st of February 1780, according to previous arrangement, he repaired to Whitby for the ratification of his agreement, and for receiving directions as to when and how his services would be required. His anxiety on this occasion, to proceed with his studies in the manner in which he found himself making gradual and encouraging progress, led him at once into an adventure of much peril, and into circumstances in which his acquirements in the principles of navigation had their first, yet most successful and important, application.
Finding that his services would not be required until the month of April, he determined, being full of ardour for self-improvement, not to lose a single day; so that, although the afternoon had arrived before he finished his arrangements with Mr. Chapman, he set out on his pedestrian course towards the Moors, intending to sleep at the village of Sleights. Urged, however, by his feelings, and tempted by the fineness of the evening, and the brilliant sunset, by which the distant hills (then covered with snow) were illumined and gilded, he resolved on proceeding to Salter Gate, a position, in the midst of the Moors, eight miles further in advance, and attainable only by a not very well-defined line of road across a heath-clad and totally uninhabited country. It was a region, therefore, of complete desolateness, through which he prepared to pass, and, on occasions of snow-storms, one of great danger to any travellers who might be unfortunately overtaken by them whilst in the midst of the Moors;—for, at the period of which we now write, there were neither fences to confine, nor poles (as in subsequent years were erected) to mark, the line of road, so that an hour’s continuance of thick drifting snow might totally obliterate, in many places, the distinctions betwixt the highway and the general trackless heath. Hence it happened, that scarcely a winter passed over without yielding the records of perilous or fatal adventures; and, whenever snow-storms abounded, of travellers, more or less in number, perishing by being overwhelmed in the snow-drifts.
It was not long before our traveller, advancing rapidly with vigorous and elastic step within the region of lonesome moorland, became aware that he had entered upon a critical adventure; for having arrived near the sixth milestone on the high-moors over Whitby, he became unexpectedly encircled by a dense and gloomy cloud, attended with a sudden and furious storm of wind and fleecy snow, the snow descending so thick as to envelope him in such dark obscurity, that, for some little time, he could neither see his way to advance nor to return.
Recovering somewhat from his first embarrassment, and considering what might be well to be done, he determined, adventurous as the attempt might be, to go forward toward Salter Gate, yet six miles distant, and not a house on the road. He had made but little progress, however, in advance, before he found he had gone off the turnpike-road; nor did his first attempt, as by a nautical traverse, seem to improve his situation. When brought to a stand in this perplexing condition, it was, that his naturally reflective mind suggested an use of his humble geometrical acquirements, which afforded him essential service. He had observed how the wind first assailed him, with reference to the direction of the line of road, which, fortunately for him, like the roads of ancient construction, generally, followed a steeple-chase directness, regardless of hill or dale, for the point aimed at; and by adjusting his progress on the same angle, in respect to the course of the wind, he hoped to be guided in his now perilous undertaking. “Taking his departure” from this incidental starting-point, he set forward with as much speed as the nature of the ground and the resistance of the storm could well admit, and, proceeding in a straight direction, over hill and dale, through moor and bog, he accomplished another mile, and that so successfully as to reach its termination, to his great satisfaction, scarcely twenty yards from the seventh milestone. Encouraged by this success, he now advanced, in spite of storm and blinding snow-drift, and under painfully reduced strength, approaching at the last very near to exhaustion, until his enterprise and tact were happily rewarded by arriving at Salter Gate, where, in the house for which he originally aimed, he was enabled to obtain both shelter and refreshment. The rest of the enterprise, after encountering various difficulties, from the continuance of the snow on the ground, was in like manner accomplished, so that with no great loss of time he was welcomed in safety at his father’s house.