The Daisy Chain by Al Campbell

Author:Al Campbell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RedDoor Press
Published: 2022-02-21T05:55:39+00:00

DOGGET O’FLYNN

HMS Resolution, under the stewardship of Captain James Cook, arrives in the Dutch Cape Colony some 120 years after it was founded as a layover port for ships en route to the Orient. It is 30 October, 110 days since the ship left home waters, and as their vessel cruises south, Table Mountain heaves into view. Getting ever closer, they see the bristle of masts on vessels of all shapes and sizes nestled against the wharves in the distance. Rupert and Masson stand side-by-side at the rail as the captain brings the ship alongside the quay and sailors throw lines ashore to matelots waiting to make Resolution fast around buoys.

‘What did you think to your first sea voyage, Rupert?’ Masson asks.

Rupert grimaces. ‘Fine enough once the sickness stopped. I liked it best when we went ashore. Madeira was particularly lovely.’

‘Aye, fair enough,’ Masson agrees. ‘Although, by the time we made the Cape Verde islands, I felt as rocky ashore as I did on the deck. The ground wouldn’t stay still.’

The two men smile at one another, bonding over the passage. ‘Anyway, Francis, I expect we’ll have time to find our land legs again. I’m looking forward to a decent meal, a glass of wine and a soft bed tonight.’

Cook has walked across to join them and extends a hand. ‘It’s goodbye then, gentlemen, you’ll easily find lodgings somewhere along the waterfront. I hope your “hunt” goes well. Joseph Banks seemed very excited by what he discovered when we hove-to here for ten days on our return with the Endeavour.’

Masson shakes his hand warmly. ‘Thank you, sir, on behalf of myself, Mr Fitzgerald and indeed Mr Banks. We have letters of introduction from Mr Banks to a Swedish botanist called Carl Thunberg who will hopefully make us welcome here.’

Cook muses briefly. ‘Thunberg? Yes, he came on board Endeavour to meet Joseph. Nice man, well-educated and with an easy humour. Talked non-stop about botany – you’ll get on well!’ He turns and leaves to shout at some sailors.

Rupert and Francis oversee the unloading of their bags and various empty packing cases brought on the voyage specially to take care of specimens. They follow them down the gangplank, engage a man with a handcart and walk off along the waterfront to find suitable lodgings.

After a good meal, a good night’s rest, breaking their fast on plates of ham and eggs washed down by the bitter Dutch coffee, they walk half a mile or so inland from the quay. Asking directions several times amidst the jumble of streets and alleyways, they finally come across a substantial house standing back from the rutted track that passes for a road, stroll up the drive and knock on the door. It is opened by a tall, scholarly-looking man of some thirty years, hair scraped back, wearing a brocade waistcoat and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, over which he peers enquiringly.

Masson takes a letter from his pocket. ‘Francis Masson and Rupert Fitzgerald from His Majesty’s royal botanical gardens at Kew.

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