The style of sailors: Cook’s journals and logbooks

This volume would have been at least twice as large, if I had not made bold to strike out innumerable passages relating to the winds and tides, as well as to the variations and bearings in the several voyages, together with the minute descriptions of the management of the ship in storms, in the style of sailors; likewise the account of longitudes and latitudes; wherein I have reason to apprehend, that Mr. Gulliver may be a little dissatisfied. But I was resolved to fit the work as much as possible to the general capacity of readers.^[1]

The “style of sailors” is commonly regarded as both unintelligible and unbearably boring. Obviously, it can be difficult to understand due to the use of potentially technical and little-known vocabulary and to descriptions of specific manoeuvres. Moreover, logbooks are inherently repetitive, as they are purpose-designed: registering observations, hour by hour, round the clock, the sailor is bound to repeat with flawless regularity the state of sea, the variation of winds or the ship’s course. Everything in a journal is described from the point of view of seamen.

The different versions of the reports differed in the situation of their authors (captain, officers, surgeon or scientists), their audience (Admiralty, government, scientific academies or general public) and their intention (report officially on the mission, note observations and discoveries, record their recollections, clear themselves of errors in advance, etc.)^[2]. In the case of expeditions like Cook’s, the journals and logbooks had to be given in to the Admiralty at the end of each voyage, and would certainly have “dissatisfied” the Lord Admiral more than “a little” if the Journals had left out the systematic “account of longitudes and latitudes.” However, although the travelogues of strategic interest were at first kept secret, news of the voyages reached a wide audience in Great Britain and even in Europe. For this broader audience, knowledge of precise geographical positions and position of the writers was generally considered of secondary importance.

As a matter of fact, different copies existed. Cook kept his own logbook, separate from the ship’s one, and the ship’s logbook was in triplicate: according to the Admiralty Orders, a copy had to be sent home every 6 months – but it was difficult to do so – or “as soon after as possible”: the first opportunity to send a copy did not occur before Batavia during the first Voyage, after two and a half years at sea. In addition, each officer had to keep their own journals for cross-checking – but private publishing was strongly disapproved of, before the Captain’s and without the Admiralty’s clearance.

The average non-marine reader was not the reader targeted by the journals, due to these professional and technical notations, and the writer of a logbook did not have to consider the question of making it accessible to novices. Of course, logbooks and journals were different from the accounts made available to the public. The general reader at the end of the eighteenth century was interested in learning about discoveries through compilations, without paying attention to the different origins of the texts in question. For the first voyage, Hawkesworth combined Cook’s, Banks’s and Solander’s journals, as underlined by Wharton presenting his edition of Cook’s first-voyage Journals in 1893 as not abridged:

[he] not only interspersed reflections of his own, but managed to impose his own ponderous style upon many of the extracts from the united Journals; and, moreover, as they are all jumbled together, the whole being put into Cook’s mouth, it is impossible to know whether we are reading Cook, Banks, Solander, or Hawkesworth himself.^[3]

That modus operandi seems scientifically inappropriate nowadays, but in 1772 that publishing strategy was accepted (rendering the accounts less technical and certainly easier to read). The publications were immediately translated and distributed in series such as the “Nouvelle Bibliothèque des Voyages” in France; the journals and their bureaucratic tediousness were put aside, and literary content was favoured in those numerous “drift” versions.

Cook had also progressively become a legend: he was not only a great navigator and Captain, but (as the published voyages were a mix of his own remarks and the scientists’ accounts) he also gained the reputation of a brilliant scientist – at the very least hydrographer, astronomer, ethnographer before his time, botanist, discoverer of Aotearoa he calls New-Zealand, and first describer of kangaroos. The expeditions were real successes from a scientific (astronomical, botanical) point of view – even if Green died after Batavia and his observations were not so good. Banks succeeded in taking home about 1400 plants and 1000 animals. The second voyage was a cartographic success. In fact, re-reading his personal journals today triggers mixed impressions: the exceptional figure emerges slightly blemished as a result. The shift from facts to ideology and back, and the consequences is thus an interesting feature of Cook’s journals.

1. The Journals are not intended for the general reading public

It seems very clear that the “literary” versions of the published voyages were best-sellers: Cook became famous all over Europe as an outstanding navigator on his first return (even if at that time, the expedition was known as “Banks’s Voyage”) and was soon a model to follow. The French Captain Etienne Marchand for example began his account in 1790 with the respectful mention of Cook, seeming to sail in his wake. But Bougainville’s published Voyage (Journals and Voyage autour du monde) had wide-reaching repercussions too, “after the quasi-immediate publication and translation of the shipboard journals in 1771 and in 1772 respectively”.^[4] The French version of Cook’s first expedition (translated or adapted by Fréville) was entitled Supplément au voyage de Bougainville, by MM. Banks and Solander.^[5]

Thanks to abridged or full-length publications, though of uneven interest, shipboard journals are still successful in terms of readership, as they were at that time. That is quite surprising: the ratio thrilling/boring or informative/abstruse content does not explain the public interest for this sort of text. In order to obviate the difficulty, most of the editions of Voyages since the end of the eighteenth century skip to the “interesting passages” (discoveries, special events such as the crossing of the Line, description of unknown populations…) and neglect the “tedious parts” (the ordinary time at sea).

The recent Penguin edition makes another choice. While following the scientific edition established by Beaglehole, the editor “in making this abridgement [tried] to preserve the wholeness of Cook’s daily entries, with their conjunction of routine sailing matters and unusual incidents, rather than present a disconnected string of the more exciting moments”.^[6] To a certain extent Philip Edwards accepts the possible monotony of repetition – taking the responsibility of doing the contrary of what most previous abridged editions, intending to be continuously thrilling, had done. Surprisingly, he strikes out the most commonly included moments of the voyage, the stopover in a newly-discovered island or the description of unknown populations: the landing in Tahiti, or New-Zealand, is summed up, instead of being the occasion of introducing ethnographic or geographic developments. These passages have the advantage of first-hand testimonies concerning the visited countries; these ethnographic accounts are famous nowadays – too famous perhaps because they develop biased images of the whole expedition. They may also lead to an understanding of the voyage as a quick succession of discoveries and long stays in paradise-like islands, instead of long periods of hard navigation in uncharted oceans. As the ethnographic text institutes a colonial point of view on newly “discovered” countries, more than on the meeting of two civilizations, they are possibly no longer “politically correct”. After all, they result from personal perspectives revealing political and anthropological visions characterising the period. But, in this case, the reader focuses more on the background of the travel text, not on the journals themselves. Edwards’s editorial choices underline the intention of showing James Cook as a navigator, more than an anthropologist, and his mission as essentially geographical and scientific.

On the other hand, the Penguin edition cuts out entries which closely resemble one another: at the very beginning, before the scientists embark, a week is taken out, with details such as:

Tuesday, 9th. Gentle breezes and Cloudy weather. At 7 p.m. the Tide being against us, Anchored in 13 fathoms of Water; Dungeness South-West by West. At 11 a.m. Weighed and made Sail down Channel; at Noon, Beachy Head, North by East 1/2 East, distant 6 Leagues, Latitude observed 50 degrees 30 minutes North. Wind North-West to North.^[7]

This omitted passage does not seem of overriding interest. It shows however how repetitive a logbook can be. It is essentially dry, technical and complicated except for another sailor or the Admiralty who can decipher the series of figures and specific jargon – every object, every manoeuvre on a ship has a name which discriminates against groups of readers. Helmsmen and officers are requested to regularly record their slightest manoeuvres, course changes, weather events, and so on, and if nothing of that sort happens during the watch, that must also be recorded.

The clearest explanation for what each text must relay is given by William Falconer^[8] in his Universal Dictionary of the Marine (1769):

LOG-BOARD, a sort of table, divided into several columns, containing the hours of the day and night, the direction of the winds, the course of the ship, and all the material occurrences that happen during the twenty-four hours, or from noon to noon; together with the latitude by observation. From this table the different officers of the ship are furnished with materials to compile their journals, wherein they likewise insert whatever may have been omitted; or reject what may appear superfluous in the log-board. See the article Journal.

LOG-BOOK, a book into which the contents of the log-board is daily copied at noon, together with every circumstance deserving notice, that may happen to the ship, or within her cognizance, either at sea or in a harbour, &c. The intermediate divisions or watches of the log-book, containing four hours each, are usually signed by the commanding officer thereof, in ships of war or East-Indiamen.

This means that the log-board is the rough copy filled in during the watch, whereas the logbook is a fair copy of the draft. The Journals are derived from these versions.

JOURNAL, in navigation, a sort of diary, or daily register of the ship’s course, winds, and weather; together with a general account of whatever is material to be remarked in the period of a sea-voyage.

In all sea-journals, the day, or what is called the 24 hours, terminates at noon, because the errors of the dead-reckoning are at that period generally corrected by a solar observation. The daily compact usually contains the state of the weather; the variation, increase, or diminution of the wind; and the suitable shifting, reducing, or enlarging the quantity of sail extended; as also the most material incidents of the voyage, and the condition of the ship and her crew; together with the discovery of other ships or fleets, land, shoals, breakers, soundings, &c.

The form of keeping journals […] leaves as great a space for one day’s work, the matter of which may be contained in very few lines, as for another that abounds with important incidents, so as to occupy ten times the space. […]

The log-board is useful for the ship’s crew: first of all, the master is aware of the course the ship has taken and can compensate if necessary. The officer can find the ship’s bearings and put the plot on the right position on the chart. The captain can verify and plan the route, keeping a record of the track. The Admiralty reads the final version of the whole and can compare the officers’ journals and assess the success of the expedition compared with the initial instructions. A parallel world exists within the journals that is incomprehensible for the general public.

The logbook in fact is usually characterised by the minutiae of shipboard life which is of minimal interest to most readers unless they are seamen at heart. According to Banks’s editor,

Cook’s story is that of a sailor, and his account of his discoveries is rendered more attractive by the introduction of passages from the more graphic pages of Banks’s Diary: it is these passages which attracted so much attention in the narrative drawn up by Dr. Hawkesworth.^[9]

Obviously, the positions in longitude and latitude are not appealing to the general reader, who skips to the more thrilling entries. That great space in the right column of the table remains appealing though: it can be the right place where the unusual, the unknown, descriptions of the unchartered territories may appear and, in this respect, provide fascinating accounts. This part of the journal is supposed to be especially interesting for the public, compared to the repetitive entries concerning the manoeuvres and positions: the mention of what is different and new contrasts with the recording of technical data. Is the interest of the reader connected to the difficulty in understanding? Maybe not.

2. What is the “style of sailors”?

The account of routine events is not very attractive except for those who have mandated the recording of this type of event. The officer cannot, as a rule, override this call of duty; the Admiralty can conceal events or dissimulate the positions of potential colonies from the public, and classify all or part of the journals as secret – the Captain cannot. The use of specialised vocabulary is a guarantee that the manoeuvres have been carried out, and that everything is perfectly in order – this is what distinguishes the pirate ships and the fleet of the Royal Navy. But the vocabulary is so precise and unambiguous that repetition is unavoidable. In this context, the “style of sailors” is the absolute lack of what a writer calls “style”, of any attempt to be personal or original, to express more than facts in codified form.

Concerning the method of writing, Cook does not have a choice: the chronological order is part of the “style of sailors”. If everything every day is recounted (the account daily in Journals and hourly in the log), the content is putatively authentic, exhaustive, sincere and honest. The writer, in this way, swears to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But the different scale of time between logbook and Journals leads to choices and omissions.

The captain can narrate the events in such a way that the truth is not entirely obvious, even if not concealed or twisted. However, the reader has to read between the lines and behind the technical account, the real message the captain wants to relay, even if the latter never remains scrupulously professional. Even if Cook seems to be perfectly neutral, he is conscious of the journals’ effect on different kinds of readers. For example, Cook is obliged to make the stocklist of all the supplies aboard at the beginning of the cruise, but he is aware of the fact that data accuracy and exhaustivity can turn into uninterest, so, after listing all the provisions he takes aboard^[10] – especially to avoid scurvy on the second voyage – he comments:

It will be both unnecessary and tedious to enumerate the Naval Stores that are on board, for besides their Furniture of every kind which are all made of the very best materials, we have on board a variety of spare stores of every sort sufficient for so long a Voyage.^[11]

Maybe his duty is to express gratitude to the Admiralty, which made the two ships “both well choosen and well provided.”^[12] But the “impartial reader”^[13] may be invited to read between the lines his real opinion: from the very beginning of the voyage, Cook knows that such a mission can easily be threatened by substandard equipment.

He must also provide explanations of some very awkward situations. In the Journals he is obliged to justify his choices for navigation and management of his crew. He must report any case of breach of discipline that could be subject to disciplinary action: punishments and grounds are registered (theft, violence, or drunkenness…). Cook reports the number of sick and of course of dead men. Concerning Mr Hicks for example he puts forward that he was in bad health from the departure, so this death at sea is not his fault, but due to lack of foresight on the part of the recruiters or of the seaman himself. During the first voyage for example, the death toll is high: a terrible outbreak of fever and flux after the stopover in Batavia killed more than twenty people within two weeks; men fell overboard and were drowned, servants of Mr Banks froze to death, “Natives” were shot down… this could prove to be very embarrassing. Did he make a mistake in going to Batavia, already known as an unhealthy place to stop? Did he do his best to avoid the danger or cure the sick sailors? When he lists the anti-scurvy provisions on board, at the beginning of the second account, he means to underline the fact that he had anticipated the problem: if scurvy appears on the Adventure, the Journals indicate that it may be the fault of the cook (but he is punished as he is the first to have died). In 1774, Edwards notices:

Cook doesn’t mention that he fell ill about 23 February. In a later version of the journal he wrote: “I was taken ill of the Billious colick and so violent as to confine me to my bed, so that the Management of the Ship was left to Mr Cooper my first Officer who conducted her very much to my satisfaction.”^[14]

He is obliged to report the shooting of Natives – this was not rare; but after the first shot, the ensuing use of weapons becomes “legitimate”. The account always suggests threat and self-defence – this could have been the case, obviously not always. Cook himself shot Natives on numerous occasions and tried to play down the importance of injury: it could be only a scratch^[15] – whereas Sydney Parkinson does not report the same in A Journal of a Voyage to the South seas, in his Majesty's Ship “the Endeavour”.^[16] Parkinson for example uses about 50 times the verb “fire” during the first voyage to describe the contact between islanders and crew, or punishment for theft. Soon after their arrival in Tahiti:

April 13th, 1769

“No one of the Natives made the least opposission at our landing but came to us with all imaginable marks of friendship and submission.”^[17] April 15^th, 1769

[…] A centinel being off his guard, one of the natives snatched a musket out of his hand, which occasioned the fray. A boy, a midshipman, was the commanding officer, and, giving orders to fire, they obeyed with the greatest glee imaginable, as if they had been shooting at wild ducks, killed one stout man, and wounded many others. What a pity, that such brutality should be exercised by civilized people upon unarmed ignorant Indians !^[18]

But this guilty conscience will be rapidly relieved. Cook narrates the altercation without expressing regret. And soon after this first murder, Parkinson becomes accustomed to this way of dealing with the Natives:

On the 17th, the centinel fired at one of the natives, who came before it was light with an intent to steal some of the casks, which was the second offence; but the powder flashed in the pan, and the man escaped with his life.

On the 20th, but few of the natives came to market, having been prevented by the rain.^[19]

The daily report shows the growing carelessness of the crew. The islanders are not free any longer to move about freely; moreover, the navigators consider their “submission” as perfectly natural. They are even surprised that the Tahitians do not come and offer their fruit and goods the day after some of their friends were shot. The very entries put on the same level the rain and the near murder.

We can choose two more accounts of the same sort of event – among dozens: Cook has decided to seize a canoe, but the Natives tried to escape, and it turned into a bloodbath. According to Parkinson, it happened thus:

After having taken possession of the country, in form, for the king, our company embarked, and went round the bay in search of water again, and to apprehend, if possible, some of the natives, to gain farther information of them respecting the island. They had not gone far before they saw a canoe; gave chace to it, and, when they came up with it, the crew threw stones at them, and were very daring and insolent. Our people had recourse to their arms: the Captain, Dr. Solander, and Mr. Banks, fired at them, and killed and wounded several of them. The natives fought very desperately with their paddles, but were soon overpowered: their canoe was taken, three of them made prisoners, and brought on board the ship, and the rest were suffered to escape.^[20]

According to Cook:

Seeing two boats or Canoes coming in from Sea I rowed to one of them, in order to Seize upon the People and […] they endeavoured to get away, upon which I order’d a Musquet to be fir’d over their heads thinking this would either make them surrender or jump over board, but here I was misstaken for they immidiatly took to their arms or whatever they had in the boat, and began to attack us, this obliged us to fire upon them, and unfortunately either two or three were kill’d, and one wounded, and three jumped overboard, […] where they were clothed and treated with all imaginable kindness and to the surprise of everybody became at once as cheerful and as merry as if they had been with their own friends; they were all three young, the eldest not above 20 years of age, and the youngest about 10 or 12.

I am aware that most humane men who have not experienced things of this nature will cencure my conduct in firing upon the people in this boat nor do I myself think that the reason I had for seizing upon her will att all justify me, and had I thought that they would have made the least resistance I would not have come near them, but as they did I was not to stand still and suffer either myself or those that were with me to be knocked on the head.^[21]

Both narrate the same: the English party behave as owners of the Bay, try to seize a canoe using force, and the Natives – naturally – resist with the objects they have in their small boats^[22] until they are killed or taken prisoners. Cook must justify the assault and murders (and uses passive voice: “two or three were kill’d” without mentioning any culprit, “unfortunately” as if it were a mere accident). The obligation of the daily report makes it impossible to completely omit the event, but the form of the presentation can minimise its importance. Here the murders are immediately and hypocritically followed by the lexical field of goodness and friendship the crew is supposed to represent. This proof of the Natives’ thoughtlessness could show their disposition to be easily dominated.

And how did Cook account for an attempt at desertion? Two men were caught and punished. For another, he was forced to provide justification for such conduct: a poor single Irishman with no family, no friends, no connections, tempted by paradise^[23]: here is proof of remarkable clemency – perhaps because the reputation of paradise, after the first voyage, became widespread.

But the most terrible disgrace, for a sailor such as Cook, is shipwreck: the Endeavour strikes and catches on a coral reef (on the first voyage), and almost sinks: “[we] found that we had got upon the South-East Edge of a reef of Coral Rocks, having in some places round the Ship 3 and 4 fathoms Water”^[24] and worse, “we went ashore about the Top of High Water”. It is a disaster Cook has no charts to guide him, but it is his duty to sound around reefs. The Journals are very “talkative” and represent by verbs the multitude of actions he decides on, and his commands – in vain for a very long time (more than 24 hours), with all hands to the pumps. And suddenly “a mistake soon after happened”: The sailor who was in charge of measuring the height of the water in the hold was succeeded by another sailor at the end of his duty: and the second one did not measure the water at the very same spot in the  hold, so it suddenly seemed that the water had increased terribly, which caused a brief panic. In fact, it was not a mistake, it was only the difference of the way of measuring but Cook finally found the guilty party – and it was not himself.

3. Cook’s ambiguous figure

After this near disaster, when the ship is finally afloat, Cook concludes that everybody has behaved better than they have ever done – it could almost have been an opportunity to test their outstanding professionalism. Maybe it is one of the rare occasions on which he mentions his officers or crew to congratulate them: the Journals are more fitted to narrate actions than to express feelings. Great Britain can be satisfied and claim that the Captain is a national hero.

November 15^th, 1770 (New Zealand):

Neither of the Inhabitants of this Place, nor any other where we have been know the use of Iron, or set the least Value upon it, prefering the most trifleing thing we could give them to a Nail, or any sort of Iron tools. Before we left this Bay we cut out upon one of the trees near the watering place, the Ships Name, date, &c and after displaying the English Colours, I took formal possession of the place in the name of His Majesty.^[25]

The Natives are so ignorant or even stupid, because they don’t have any sense of value (that is, on the contrary, the argument in the French accounts for considering Tahitian people as “noble savages”, in the wake of Bougainville or Commerson), and it is perfectly normal to take possession of their country. In his account, Captain Marchand, concerned with French Revolution, takes possession in June 1791 of “Marchand Island” “though [he] never could imagine how a governed nation, and according to which law, may seize of an inhabited land without the consent of the Natives.”^[26]

Cook appears as the Lieutenant of Great Britain, ruling over the seas and the world on its behalf. However, the charting of the world is also the prime means of imposing power and starting the colonisation process. His accounts show the difficult relations with the Natives: violence is the way he deals with them very often, and kindness seems to be used for convenience, if not as a trap. Due to the journal’s form we understand the reality of the voyage through its chronological development, the growing feeling of power: the punishments of sailors seem to become less frequent with time and the violence is more directed against the Natives.

The history of the Journals’ publication shows that Captain Cook progressively becomes more self-confident: the first voyage was “Banks’ Voyage”, but Cook is determined to take the credit for the following expedition.

Thus he “makes a story” in which he represents his own glorification as decider as well as the autonomy of the Nation. This comparison of the journals and log shows then that omission or emendation in the interests of the honour redounding greatly to the Honour of the Nation as a Maritime Power may generate representations which disallow officialised acknowledgment of ethical intersubjective relations, though they obviously existed as the log and the Banks texts present.^[27]

To be sure he was an outstanding navigator and skilled hydrographer; even if he does not really care for science.

“[I have] written more with a view to assist my own memory than to give information to others: I am neither a botanist nor a Naturalist and have not words to describe the productions of Nature either in the one Science or the other.”^[28]

More than proof of modesty this could be a way of differentiating himself from Banks the botanist. From then on, Cook tried to be not only a great navigator, but also a writer: his sentences in the third voyage are longer, most of past participles are no longer abridged and the frequency of adjectives rises in proportion. The record of manoeuvres is no longer a mere mention but turns into descriptions intelligible to non-seamen readers. The third Journal is obviously written, with a view of a self-publication.

Conclusion

Cook was obliged to follow the format of the Journals and he tries to “write” himself into being: in doing so he becomes more convinced of his own importance and legitimacy. Or what Hawkesworth did with Cook’s journal of the first voyage, transforming the latter’s account into travel literature: cutting out dates or positions, he makes a story, as Swift had done. The Journals as a whole represent a response to the call of duty. But to what extent can the general reader consider Cook’s personal sense of duty?

The Journals seem factual, although it is seen from Cook’s (or Banks’s, or Parkinson’s, or the Forsters’…) point of view. During that period of Eurocentric discovery, Cook’s Journals and Voyages are the clearest expression of this ideology of Empire, under the cover of a maritime account. This signifies that the “genre” of the journals, with the outward appearance of a simple and innocent documentary, is more underhand than a manifesto, as ellipsis and double entendre are more difficult to understand. It is possibly more comfortable to read the Journals without reading between the lines.

In Conrad’s novel Typhoon, after the account of the terrible hurricane Captain Mac Whirr braves, his wife reads her husband’s letter as a boring and repetitive explanation of his work.

she glanced wearily here and there into the many pages. It was not her fault they were so prosy, so completely uninteresting—from “My darling wife” at the beginning, to “Your loving husband” at the end. She couldn't be really expected to understand all these ship affairs.^[29]

We do not have Cook’s letters to his wife, but the journals show to what extent sailors’ accounts are, in fact, written in a language which is far removed from the common medium of communication which everybody can understand.