Australian Broadcasting Corporation. - Captain James Cook

A board His Majestys Bark Endeavour , the ships bell, which was mounted in its belfry on the foredeck above the anchor windlass, had just tolled twice. It was the signal for the near 100 men on board that it was five oclock in the morning, the completion of the first hour of the morning watch.

For the previous four months, Endeavour and her crew had travelled more than 1700 nautical miles along a coastline to the north of a headland that had appeared off the ships bow on 19 April 1770. In history, that date is recognised as the day the great seafarer James Cook first sighted the east coast of New Holland. In doing so he contributed significantly to solving a maritime mystery that had been debated for centuries.

At this very moment, though, things had gone awry: it was looking increasingly likely that the ship and everyone on board would be lost, probably without trace. Endeavour , now situated beside New Hollands reef-strewn northern coastline, was becalmed and drifting towards annihilation.

Windless as it was in the early hours, it was not a flat calm. The ship was slowly heaving from side to side in response to powerful ocean swells that were rolling in from the south-east like liquid mountain ranges in perpetual motion the remnants of a mid-ocean storm that had its core somewhere out in the Pacific. The crests of these monsters were only seconds apart, and as each one loomed and surged against Endeavour s hull it would pitch her massive bulk towards the heavens and roll her to starboard then to port in a slow, pendulum-like motion. And with every lurch came an ugly discord of sound from aloft as the heavy canvas sails slatted inside-out, and the solid timber yards, from which they were set, groaned in protest.

There was another haunting noise, however like rolling thunder that was originating from a source away from the ship, and it was causing escalating concern for all on board. The men knew what it was, so well that everyone, from the captain to the lowliest able seaman and servant boy, was constantly peering through the darkness and watching in dread at the dim scene that was slowly becoming defined off Endeavour s starboard side. As their ship drifted closer to it, they saw wave after monstrous wave being compressed into a horribly powerful peak before exploding and collapsing with a booming roar into a seething mass of ghostly white water thousands of tons of it onto the coral reef that had so abruptly impeded its progress. The wall of water would then cascade across the reef like an unstoppable tsunami.

The motion that came from each wave as it approached the reef, and the sweep of a current being generated by a tide that was on the flood, were combining to move Endeavour at an alarming rate towards the boiling white water. And there was nothing that could be done to prevent it.

By this time, Cook and his crew had been away from their home port in England for almost two years to the day, on a voyage that initially took them to Tahiti to observe the transit of Venus across the sun. The Royal Society had commissioned that part of the expedition, in the hope that data recorded from sights taken during this rare astronomical phenomenon in June 1769 would provide the most accurate figure yet on the distance between Venus and the sun. Such information would enable scientists to more precisely calculate the size of the solar system.

With that undertaking completed, Cook had followed his instructions from the Admiralty, which, in taking the opportunity that came with one of their ships being in this newly discovered part of the world, directed him to take a sweep into the Southern Ocean in search of Terra Australis Incognita the Great South Land. Should nothing be found, he was to continue west, towards where, on 13 December 1642, Dutchman Abel Tasman had discovered a large land, uplifted high the west coast of the southern island of New Zealand. By sailing towards that point, Cook would inevitably make landfall. Once there, he would be able to explore the largely unknown coastline and fill in the extensive gaps left by Tasman.

Cooks instructions from the Lords of the Admiralty for this part of the voyage were deemed to be secret, as they did not want to alert other European maritime nations to the exploratory nature of the mission. Britain wanted to keep any success to itself.

There was another important element relating to this voyage. Any discoveries that might be made would present a unique opportunity to expand the worlds knowledge of the flora and fauna of this part of the world. As a result, there was on board a special group whose task it was, following their observation of the transit of Venus, to seek all possible samples of the previously unknown native plants and wildlife they would almost certainly find on land and sea. Leading this group was a member of the august Royal Society more formally known as the Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge wealthy 27-year-old naturalist Joseph Banks; he came with eight assistants, including a natural scientist, two artists and servants, as well as his two dogs.

Eton- and Oxford-educated Banks, who would later in life become one of the worlds most prominent patrons of natural science, was so enthusiastic about this venture with Cook that he had invested around 10,000 of his personal wealth to support it. That figure converts to more than 10 million ($17 million) today. Needless to say, Banks was given the best sleeping quarters on the ship, on a par with the captains.

Once New Zealand had been reached, and whatever possible exploration of that region completed, Cook had been given the option of returning home via Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope. He chose the latter, primarily for the safety of his ship and his men. It would be a longer but less dangerous passage that way, for Endeavour was by then showing signs of structural fatigue, and they would thereby avoid the perils that came with rounding the notorious, storm-lashed Cape Horn.

Cook resumed a passage to the west until, on that historic day of 19 April 1770, a lookout stationed near the masthead shouted in high excitement: Land ho! There was a coastline off to the northwest and, soon after it was sighted, the most obvious landmark would go onto Cooks chart with the name Point Hicks: a tribute to that man who first saw it, 31-year-old Second Lieutenant Zachary Hickes.