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Ernest Scott >> Laperouse
Fleurieu again drew up the instructions, and based them largely upon
the letter from Laperouse quoted above, pointing out that remains of
him would most probably be found in the neighbourhood of coasts which
he had intended to explore. It was especially indicated that there was,
south of New Holland, an immense stretch of coastline so far
utterly unknown. "No navigator has penetrated in that part of the sea;
the reconnaissances and discoveries of the Dutch, the English and the
French commenced at the south of Van Diemen's Land."
Thus, for the second time, was a French navigator directed to explore
the southern coasts of Australia; and had Dentrecasteaux followed the
plan laid down for him he would have forestalled the discoveries of
Grant, Bass and Flinders, just as Laperouse would have done had his
work not been cut short by disaster.
It has to be remembered that the instructions impressed upon
Dentrecasteaux that his business primarily was not geographical
discovery, but to get news of his lost compatriots. But even so, is it
not curious that the French should have been concerned with the
exploration of Southern Australia before the English thought about it;
that they should have had two shots at the task, planned with knowledge
and care, officially directed, and in charge of eminently competent
navigators; but that nevertheless their schemes should have gone awry?
They made a third attempt by means of Baudin's expedition, during the
Napoleonic Consulate, and again were unsuccessful, except in a very
small measure. It almost seems as if some power behind human endeavours
had intended these coasts for British finding--and keeping.
The full story of Dentrecasteaux' expedition has not yet been told. Two
thick books were written about it, but a mass of unpublished
papers contain details that were judiciously kept out of those volumes.
When the whole truth is made known, it will be seen that the bitter
strife which plunged France in an agony of blood and tears was not
confined to the land.
The ships did not visit Sydney. Why not? It might have been expected
that an expedition sent to discover traces of Laperouse would have been
careful to make Botany Bay in the first instance, and, after collecting
whatever evidence was available there, would have carefully followed
the route that he had proposed to pursue. But it would seem that an
European settlement was avoided. Why? The unpublished papers may
furnish an answer to that question.
Neither was the south coast of Australia explored. That great chance
was missed. Some excellent charting--which ten years later commanded
the cordial admiration of Flinders--was done by Beautemps-Beaupre, who
was Dentrecasteaux' cartographer, especially round about the S.W.
corner of the continent. Esperance Bay, in Western Australia, is named
after one of the ships of this expedition. But from that corner, his
ships being short of fresh water, Dentrecasteaux sailed on a direct
line to Southern Tasmania, and thence to New Zealand, New Caledonia,
and New Guinea. Touch with the only European centre in these parts was
--apparently with deliberation--not obtained.
Dentrecasteaux died while his ships were in the waters to the
north of New Guinea. He fell violently ill, raving at first, then
subsiding into unconsciousness, a death terrible to read about in the
published narrative, where the full extent of his troubles is not
revealed. Kermadec, commander of the ESPERANCE, also died at New
Caledonia. After their decease the ships returned to France as rapidly
as they could. They were detained by the Dutch at Sourabaya for several
months, as prisoners of war, and did not reach Europe till March, 1796.
Their mission had been abortive.
Five French Captains who brought expeditions to Australia at this
period all ended in misfortune. Laperouse was drowned; de Langle was
murdered; Dentrecasteaux died miserably at sea; Kermadec, the fourth,
had expired shortly before; and Baudin, the fifth, died at Port Louis
on the homeward voyage.
Nor is even that the last touch of melancholy to the tale of tragedy.
There was a young poet who was touched by the fate of Laperouse. Andre
Chenier is now recognised as one of the finest masters of song who have
enriched French literature, and his poems are more and more studied and
admired both by his own countrymen and abroad. He planned and partly
finished a long poem, "L'Amerique," which contains a mournful passage
about the mystery of the sea which had not then been solved. A
translation of the lines will not be attempted here; they are mentioned
because the poet himself had an end as tragic, though in a
different mode, as that of the hero of whom he sang. He came under the
displeasure of the tyrants of the Red Terror through his friends and
his writings, and in March, 1794, the guillotine took this brilliant
young genius as a victim.
J'accuserai les vents et cette mer jalouse
Qui retient, qui peut-etre a ravi Laperouse
so the poem begins. How strangely the shadow of Tragedy hangs over this
ill-starred expedition; Louis XVI the projector, Laperouse and de
Langle the commanders, Dentrecasteaux and Kermadec the searchers, Andre
Chenier the laureate: the breath of the black-robed Fury was upon them
all!
Chapter IX.
CAPTAIN DILLON'S DISCOVERY.
The navigators of all nations were fascinated by the mystery attaching
to the fate of Laperouse. Every ship that sailed the Pacific hoped to
obtain tidings or remains. From time to time rumours arose of the
discovery of relics. One reported the sight of wreckage; another that
islanders had been seen dressed in French uniforms; another that a
cross of St. Louis had been found. But the element of probability in
the various stories evaporated on investigation. Flinders, sailing
north from Port Jackson in the INVESTIGATOR in 1802, kept a sharp
lookout on the Barrier Reef, the possibility of finding some trace
being "always present to my mind." But no definite news came.
A new French voyage of exploration came down to the Pacific in 1817,
under the command of Louis de Freycinet, who had been a lieutenant in
Baudin's expedition in 1800-4. The purpose was not chiefly to look for
evidence concerning Laperouse, though naturally a keen scrutiny was
maintained with this object in view.
An extremely queer fact may be mentioned in connection with this
voyage. The URANIE carried a woman among the crew, the only one of her
sex amidst one hundred men. Madame de Freycinet, the wife of the
commandant, joined at Toulon, dressed as a ship's boy, and it was given
out in the newspapers that her husband was very much surprised when he
found that his wife had managed to get aboard in disguise. But Arago,
one of the scientific staff, tells us in his Memoirs, published in
1837, that--as we can well believe--Freycinet knew perfectly who the
"young and pretty" boy was, and had connived at her joining the ship as
a lad, because she wanted to accompany her husband, and the authorities
would have prevented her had they known. She continued to wear her
boy's dress until after the ships visited Gibraltar, for Arago informs
us that the solemn British Lieutenant-Governor there, when he saw her,
broke into a smile, "the first perhaps that his features had worn for
ten years." If that be true, the little lady surely did a little good
by her saucy escapade. But official society regarded the lady in
trousers with a frigid stare, so that henceforth she deemed it discreet
to resume feminine garments. It does not appear that she passed for a
boy when the expedition visited Sydney, and of course no hint of
Madame's presence is given in the official history of the voyage.
We now reach the stage when the veil was lifted and the mystery
explained. In 1813 the East India Company's ship HUNTER, voyaging from
Calcutta to Sydney, called at the Fiji Islands. They discovered that
several Europeans were living on one of the group. Some had been
shipwrecked; some had deserted from vessels; but they had become
accustomed to the life and preferred it. The HUNTER employed a party of
them to collect sandal wood and beche-de-mer, one of her junior
officers, Peter Dillon, being in charge. A quarrel with natives
occurred, and all the Europeans were murdered, except Dillon, a
Prussian named Martin Bushart, and a seaman, William Wilson. After the
affray Bushart would certainly have been slain had he remained, so he
induced the captain of the HUNTER to give him a passage to the first
land reached. Accordingly Bushart, a Fiji woman who was his wife, and a
Lascar companion, were landed on Barwell Island, or Tucopia.
Thirteen years later Peter Dillon was sailing in command of his own
ship, the ST. PATRICK, from Valparaiso to Pondicherry, when he sighted
Tucopia. Curiosity prompted him to stop to enquire whether his old
friend Martin Bushart was still alive. He hove to, and shortly after
two canoes put off from the land, bringing Bushart and the Lascar, both
in excellent health.
Now, Dillon observed that the Lascar sold an old silver sword guard to
one of the ST. PATRICK'S crew in return for a few fish hooks. This made
him inquisitive. He asked the Prussian where it came from. Bushart
informed him that when he first arrived at the island he saw in
possession of the natives, not only this sword guard, but also several
chain plates, iron bolts, axes, the handle of a silver fork, some
knives, tea cups, beads, bottles, a silver spoon bearing a crest and
monogram, and a sword. He asked where these articles were
obtained, and the natives told him that they got them from the
Mannicolo (or Vanikoro) cluster of islands, two days' canoe voyage from
Tucopia, in the Santa Cruz group.
"Upon examining the sword minutely" wrote Dillon, "I discovered, or
thought I discovered, the initials of Perouse stamped on it, which
excited my suspicion and made me more exact in my inquiries. I then, by
means of Bushart and the Lascar, questioned some of the islanders
respecting the way in which their neighbours procured the silver and
iron articles. They told me that the natives of Mannicolo stated that
many years ago two large ships arrived at their islands; one anchored
at the island of Whanoo, and the other at the island of Paiou, a little
distance from each other. Some time after they anchored, and before
they had any communication with the natives, a heavy gale arose and
both vessels were driven ashore. The ship that was anchored off Whanoo
grounded upon the rocks.
"The natives came in crowds to the seaside, armed with clubs, spears,
and bows and arrows, and shot some arrows into the ship, and the crew
in return fired the guns and some musketry on them and killed several.
The vessel, continuing to beat violently against the rocks, shortly
afterwards went to pieces. Some of the crew took to their boats, and
were driven on shore, where they were to a man murdered on landing by
the infuriated natives. Others threw themselves into the sea; but if
they reached the shore it was only to share the fate of their
wretched comrades, so that not a single soul escaped out of this
vessel."
The ship wrecked on Paiou, according to the natives' story, was driven
on a sandy beach. Some arrows were fired into her, but the crew did not
fire. They were restrained, and held up beads, axes, and toys, making a
demonstration of friendliness. As soon as the wind abated, an old chief
came aboard the wrecked ship, where he was received in friendly
fashion, and, going ashore, pacified his people. The crew of the
vessel, compelled to abandon her, carried the greater part of their
stores ashore, where they built a small boat from the remains of the
wreck. As soon as this craft was ready to sail, as many as could
conveniently be taken embarked and sailed away. They were never heard
of again. The remainder of the crew remained on the island until they
died.
Such was the information collected by Captain Peter Dillon in 1826. He
took away with him the sword guard, but regretted to learn that the
silver spoon had been beaten into wire by Bushart for making rings and
ornaments for female islanders.
When he reached Calcutta, Dillon wrote an account of his discovery in a
letter to the government of Bengal, and suggested that he should be
sent in command of an expedition to search the Vanikoro cluster in the
hope of finding some old survivor of Laperouse's unhappy company, or at
all events further remains of the ships. He had prevailed upon
Martin Bushart to accompany him to India, and hoped, through this man's
knowledge of the native tongue, to elicit all that was to be known.
The Government of British India became interested in Dillon's
discovery, and resolved to send him in command of a ship to search for
further information. At the end of 1826 he sailed in the RESEARCH, and
in September of the following year came within sight of the high-peaked
island Tucopia. The enquiries made on this voyage fully confirmed and
completed the story, and left no room for doubt that the ships of
Laperouse had been wrecked and his whole company massacred or drowned
on or near Vanikoro. Many natives still living remembered the arrival
of the French. Some of them related that they thought those who came on
the big ships to be not men but spirits; and such a grotesque bit of
description as was given of the peaks of cocked hats exactly expressed
the way in which the appearance of the strangers would be likely to
appeal to the native imagination:--" There was a projection from their
foreheads or noses a foot long."
Furthermore, Dillon's officers were able to purchase from the islands
such relics as an old sword blade, a rusted razor, a silver sauce-boat
with fleur-de-lis upon it, a brass mortar, a few small bells, a silver
sword-handle bearing a cypher, apparently a "P" with a crown, part of a
blacksmith's vice, the crown of a small anchor, and many other
articles. An examination of natives brought out a few further
details, as for example, a description of the chief of the strangers,
"who used always to be looking at the stars and the sun and beckoning
to them," which is how a native would be likely to regard a man making
astronomical observations. Dillon, in short had solved the forty years'
mystery. The Pacific had revealed her long-held secret.
It happened that a new French expedition in the ASTROLABE, under the
command of Dumont-D'Urville, was in the southern hemisphere at this
time. While he lay at Hobart on his way to New Zealand, the captain
heard of Dillon's discoveries, and, at once changing his plans, sailed
for the Santa Cruz Islands. He arrived there in February, 1828, and
made some valuable finds to supplement those of the English captain. At
the bottom of the sea, in perfectly clear water, he saw lying,
encrusted with coral, some remains of anchors, chains, guns, bullets,
and other objects which had clearly belonged to the ships of Laperouse.
One of his artists made a drawing of them on the spot. They were
recovered, and, together with Dillon's collection, are now exhibited in
a pyramid at the Marine Museum at the Louvre in Paris, in memory of the
ill-fated commander and crew who perished, martyrs in the great cause
of discovery, a century and a quarter ago.
It is interesting to note that descendants of Captain Dillon are
residents of Sydney to this day.
Chapter X.
THE FAME OF LAPEROUSE.
Intellectually, and as a navigator, Laperouse was a son of James Cook,
and he himself would have rejoiced to be so described. The allusions to
his predecessor in his writings are to be numbered by scores, and the
note of reverent admiration is frequently sounded. He followed Cook's
guidance in the management of his ships, paying particular attention to
the diet of his crews. He did not succeed in keeping scurvy at bay
altogether, but when the disease made its appearance he met it promptly
by securing fresh vegetable food for the sufferers, and was so far
successful that when he arrived in Botany Bay his whole company was in
good health.
The influence of the example and experience of Cook may be illustrated
in many ways, some of them curious. We may take a point as to which he
really had little to fear; but he knew what had occurred in Cook's case
and he was anxious that the same should not happen to him. The
published story of Cook's first South Sea Voyage, as is well known, was
not his own. His journal was handed over to Dr. Hawkesworth, a
gentleman who tried to model his literary style on that of Dr. Johnson,
and evolved a pompous, big-drum product in consequence.
Hawkesworth garnished the manly, straightforward navigator's simple and
direct English with embellishments of his own. Where Cook was plain
Hawkesworth was ornate; where Cook was sensible Hawkesworth was silly;
where Cook was accurate, Hawkesworth by stuffing in his own precious
observations made the narrative unreliable, and even ridiculous. In
fact, the gingerbread Johnson simply spoiled Cook.
Dr. Johnson was by no means gratified by the ponderous prancings of his
imitator. We learn from Boswell that when the great man met Captain
Cook at a dinner given by the President of the Royal Society, he said
that he "was much pleased with the conscientious accuracy of that
celebrated circumnavigator, who set me right as to many of the
exaggerated accounts given by Dr. Hawkesworth of his voyages." Cook
himself was annoyed by the decorating of his story, and resented the
treatment strongly.
Laperouse knew this, and was very anxious that nobody in France should
Hawkesworthify him. He did not object to being carefully edited, but he
did not want to be decorated. He wrote excellent French narrative
prose, and his work may be read with delight. Its qualities of clarity,
picturesqueness and smoothness, are quite in accord with the fine
traditions of the language. But, as it was likely that part of the
history of his voyage might be published before his return, he did not
want it to be handed over to anybody who would trick it out in
finery, and he therefore wrote the following letter:
"If my journal be published before my return, let the editing of it by
no means be entrusted to a man of letters; for either he will sacrifice
to the turn of a phrase the proper terms which the seaman and man of
learning would prefer, but which to him will appear harsh and
barbarous; or, rejecting all the nautical and astronomical details, and
endeavouring to make a pleasing romance, he will for want of the
knowledge his education has not allowed him to acquire, commit mistakes
which may prove fatal to those who shall follow me. But choose an
editor versed in the mathematical sciences, who is capable of
calculating and comparing my data with those of other investigators, of
rectifying errors which may have escaped me, and of guarding himself
against the commission of others. Such an editor will preserve the
substance of the work; will omit nothing that is essential; will give
technical details the harsh and rude, but concise style of a seaman;
and will well perform his task in supplying my place and publishing the
work as I would have done it myself."
That letter is a rather singular effect of Laperouse's study of Cook,
which might be illustrated by further examples. The influence of the
great English sailor is the more remarkable when we remember that there
had been early French navigators to the South Seas before Laperouse.
There was the elder Bougainville, the discoverer of the
Navigator Islands; there was Marion-Dufresne, who was killed and eaten
by Maoris in 1772; there was Surville--to mention only three.
Laperouse knew of them, and mentioned them. But they had little to
teach him. In short and in truth, he belonged to the school of Cook,
and that is an excellent reason why English and especially Australian
people should have an especial regard for him.
The disastrous end of Laperouse's expedition before he had completed
his task prevented him from adequately realising his possibilities as a
discoverer. As pointed out in the preceding pages, if he had completed
his voyage, he would in all probability have found the southern coasts
of Australia in 1788. But the work that he actually did is not without
importance; and he unquestionably possessed the true spirit of the
explorer. When he entered upon this phase of his career he was a
thoroughly experienced seaman. He was widely read in voyaging
literature, intellectually well endowed, alert-minded, eager,
courageous, and vigorous. The French nation has had no greater sailor
than Laperouse.
De Lesseps, the companion of his voyage as far as Kamchatka, has left a
brief but striking characterisation of him. "He was," says this
witness, "an accomplished gentleman, perfectly urbane and full of wit,
and possessed of those charming manners which pertained to the
eighteenth century. He was always agreeable in his relations with
subordinates and officers alike." The same writer tells us that
when Louis XVI gave him the command of the expedition he had the
reputation of being the ablest seaman in the French navy.
Certainly he was no common man to whose memory stands that tall
monument at Botany Bay. It was erected at the cost of the French
Government by the Baron de Bougainville, in 1825, and serves not only
as a reminder of a fine character and a full, rich and manly life, but
of a series of historical events that are of capital consequence in the
exploration and occupation of Australia.
It will be appropriate to conclude this brief biography with a tribute
to the French navigator from the pen of an English poet. Thomas
Campbell is best remembered by such vigorous poems as "Ye Mariners of
England," and "The Battle of the Baltic," which express a tense and
elevated British patriotism. All the more impressive for that very
reason is his elegy in honour of a sailor of another nation, whose
merits as a man and whose charm as a writer Campbell had recognised
from his boyhood. The following are his.
LINES WRITTEN IN A BLANK LEAF OF LAPEROUSE'S "VOYAGES"
Loved Voyager! whose pages had a zest
More sweet than fiction to my wondering breast,
When, rapt in fancy, many a boyish day
I tracked his wanderings o'er the watery way,
Roamed round the Aleutian isles in waking dreams,
Or plucked the fleur-de-lys by Jesso's streams,
Or gladly leaped on that far Tartar strand,
Where Europe's anchor ne'er had bit the sand,
Where scarce a roving wild tribe crossed the plain,
Or human voice broke nature's silent reign,--
But vast and grassy deserts feed the bear,
And sweeping deer-herds dread no hunter's snare.
Such young delight his real records brought,
His truth so touched romantic springs of thought,
That, all my after life, his fate and fame
Entwined romance with Laperouse's name.
Fair were his ships, expert his gallant crews,
And glorious was the emprise of Laperouse--
Humanely glorious! Men will weep for him,
When many a guilty martial fame is dim:
He ploughed the deep to bind no captive's chain--
Pursued no rapine--strewed no wreck with slain;
And, save that in the deep themselves lie low,
His heroes plucked no wreath from human woe.
'Twas his the earth's remotest bounds to scan,
Conciliating with gifts barbaric man--
Enrich the world's contemporaneous mind,
And amplify the picture of mankind.
Far on the vast Pacific, 'midst those isles
O'er which the earliest morn of Asia smiles,
He sounded and gave charts to many a shore
And gulf of ocean new to nautic lore;
Yet he that led discovery o'er the wave,
Still finds himself an undiscovered grave.
He came not back! Conjecture's cheek grew pale,
Year after year; in no propitious gale
His lilied banner held its homeward way,
And Science saddened at her martyr's stay.
An age elapsed: no wreck told where or when
The chief went down with all his gallant men,
Or whether by the storm and wild sea flood
He perished, or by wilder men of blood.
The shuddering fancy only guess'd his doom,
And doubt to sorrow gave but deeper gloom.
An age elapsed: when men were dead or gray,
Whose hearts had mourned him in their youthful day,
Fame traced on Vanikoro's shore at last,
The boiling surge had mounted o'er his mast.
The islesmen told of some surviving men,
But Christian eyes beheld them ne'er again.
Sad bourne of all his toils--with all his band
To sleep, wrecked, shroudless, on a savage strand!
Yet what is all that fires a hero's scorn
Of death?--the hope to live in hearts unborn.
Life to the brave is not its fleeting breath,
But worth--foretasting fame that follows death.
That worth had Laperouse, that meed he won.
He sleeps--his life's long stormy watch is done.
In the great deep, whose boundaries and space
He measured, fate ordained his resting place;
But bade his fame, like th' ocean rolling o'er
His relics, visit every earthly shore.
Fair Science on that ocean's azure robe
Still writes his name in picturing the globe,
And paints (what fairer wreath could glory twine?)
His watery course--a world-encircling line.