“Those who would go to sea for pleasure would go to hell for pastime” – 18th century aphorism
If I were someone who believed in reincarnation, I would have to entertain the notion that I must have been a sea captain in a previous life. Why else would I be so fascinated by the lives of the men who set sail on voyages of discovery, risking all to find lost continents, the fabled Northwest passage, or the elusive “terra australis?” And why else would I be so enamored of the sea and so terrified by it, in equal parts? Reading accounts of early voyages, one truly understands the 18th century aphorism quoted above. Wooden ships of the day were often nothing more than floating deathtraps with rudimentary equipment, inadequate nutritional reserves, mutinous sailors, rats, filth, and untreatable diseases that could sweep through a ship and ravage its crew at any moment. Barring those perils, if injury or drowning could be avoided, generally scurvy would get you regardless. Those who survived at all rarely thrived under such conditions, particularly since these ships of discovery were often on voyages lasting several years at a time. What kind of man would have the wherewithal, the constitution, the intellect, the bearing, the wanderlust, the stoicism, the curiosity, the luck, and the basic common sense to not only thrive at sea, but set off on three separate voyages of discovery (in his forties, no less!) that changed the face of every map that existed during his lifetime? Captain Cook, of course, would be that man.
His story is remarkable in every possible way. He came from absolutely nothing. He was a poor Yorkshire farm boy, who like most of the poor Yorkshire farm boys of his time, could probably have hoped for little more than a hard, bucolic life with few conveniences and little opportunity of ever traveling more than a few miles beyond his home. Most people of his time lived and died in the shadow of the same small churchyard. Yet Cook ended up traveling hundreds of thousands of miles in his lifetime, reaching parts of the globe no one had ever reached before him and circumnavigating the globe several times over. How did this modest man with little schooling, no means, and no lofty connections raise himself up to become a captain in the Royal Navy and possibly the greatest explorer of all time? Tony Horwitz became obsessed with this very same question and set off on his own journey of discovery to not only chart the progress of Cook’s three very famous voyages, but also to try to uncover the character of the real Captain Cook, a man who has been both honored and vilified by cultures across the globe for over two centuries, cultures for whom Cook seems to signify many things to many people.
Horwitz is a fantastically engaging writer. His casual humor and wry observations put one in mind of Bill Bryson, a comparison which I consider a huge compliment. Horwitz knew he wanted to tell Cook’s story in a way that would be historically accurate but also would be appealing and readable. So, he decided to intersperse the details of Cook’s voyages (all of which are fascinating in every detail in and of themselves) with the story of his own voyage to “boldly go where Captain Cook has gone before.” This was a brilliant tack, and I’ll tell you why. From reading the journals of Cook and his men, it is obvious that Cook was in many ways the first true anthropologist. Yes, others made contact with native peoples before him, but Cook seemed to be the first real practitioner of what modern anthropologists call “cultural relativity,” the notion of accepting the practices, beliefs and traditions of other cultures, learning and observing without judgment, and attempting to make a positive impact without too greatly affecting the culture as a whole. Now, granted, this was the 1700s and not everything went off quite the way Cook would have liked, but that’s all detailed in the book. Suffice to say, Cook was sort of the Jean-Luc Picard of sea exploration (if you understand that reference you’re as big a dork as I am). He wanted to find new frontiers, chart new territory, experience rare flora and fauna, try new cuisine (he was a VERY adventurous eater) and truly make connections with native peoples – not to exploit them, as colonists would, not to strip their resources, as so many others would in his wake, but to see the world and discover all there was to discover just for the sake of doing it – and being the first to do so. If he were alive today, he’d be volunteering for missions to Mars. Horwitz, on the other hand, is a journalist who knows the world has been discovered several hundred times over and wants really just to discover Cook. The real Cook. Not the symbol, not the hero or anti-hero. His mission is to uncover the truth under mountains of supposition. In doing so, he visits many of the same places that Cook visited and details the modern conditions of those peoples in ways that were all largely affected by Cook’s discovery of them. Sure, if not Cook, someone else would have done so – maybe fifty years later, maybe a hundred. But Cook was first, and because of that, many cultures see him -and maybe rightly so - as the villain who opened them up to the hordes of Europeans who later came and decimated them. Symbols are powerful things, and Cook became a symbol for his nation and all Western nations who raped the land and its people. It’s anthropology in action: Cook’s journals detailing the pristine cultures on first contact; Horwitz writing about the long-term effects of colonial influence on modern peoples. It’s all as sobering as it is fascinating, and the modern story has as many “discoveries” as Cook’s did.
Horwitz keeps it moving along, at just the right pace, and he adds color and comic relief by embarking on many of his journeys with his hard-partying friend Roger, another Yorkshire man who hightailed it to Australia, (though that’s where the Cook analogy ends). Roger’s jaded demeanor and pithy observations often put things back in perspective when Horwitz’s quest for the truth and Cook’s idealistic legacy meet incongruous modern roadblocks. It took me awhile to get used to Roger, but once I did, I was glad to have him along for the ride. There are so many facets to this book, so much history and lore; it is difficult to even write a synopsis. Patrick O’Brian fans will note the similarity between the relationship of Cook and Joseph Banks (the young botanist and upper crust adventurer who accompanied Cook on his storied first voyage) to that of Aubrey and Maturin. Others will note the appearance of William Bligh in the crew of Cook’s third voyage, a man who would make history on “The Bounty” soon afterwards. Cook went everywhere. Literally everywhere. From Polynesia to Antarctica. He looked for the Northwest Passage, and befriended Maori cannibals. Through it all he seems to have been largely a man of principle, fidelity and acceptance in a world so often unlike him, someone who managed to meet the world on his terms and not necessarily those of his Eurocentric brethren. Hopefully, through Tony Horwitz, people will come away with a clearer picture of this captain, mathematician, adventurer, astronomer, and yes, anthropologist, who truly went where no white man had gone before - and sometimes beyond that - to where no one in the human race had ever gone before. And when he was done, he packed up and did it all over again.