Leaving Kangaroo Island on March 24, 1802, Flinders back-tracked to Cape Spencer where mapping of the mainland had ceased four days previously. Perhaps disappointingly, as the gulf closed on both sides, Flinders had to conclude that if a strait existed severing two halves of the continent, it didn't begin here.
Exiting the gulf, Flinders proceeded to map the coast between there and Cape Jervis across Investigator Strait from Kangaroo Island. A smaller gulf, named Saint Vincent Gulf, was quickly proved also to not be the beginning of the way to the Gulf of Carpentaria. The theory of the strait was now all but ready for shredding. The abundance of fresh food available on the island of kangaroos again beckoned, so to there is where the ship returned. Flinders also needed to check time-keeping errors possibly made on the original visit.
The men hunted, feasted and explored the island further before departing again just after sunrise on April, 6. About 14.00 of the same day a sight so unbelievable was made that it was construed as almost the complete opposite. What had been initially believed to be a huge white rock emerging from the sea was in reality the sails of a ship. Banks and the British Admiralty and naturally Flinders himself had been aware the French were planning an expedition that would be a counterpart of his own. It was the reason Banks felt some urgency, although apparently not shared by the admiralty, in getting the Investigator under way as soon as possible. But to sight another ship where no other ship had been before may have been akin to American moon-landers finding they had Russian neighbours
So, getting over the surprise of seeing a ship, it would have been no greater surprise to see a French tri-colour brought up close by a telescope. As the distance narrowed between the two ships, the French vessel broke out a Union Jack - the French way of showing a flag of truce. The two nations were at war after all. Flinders hoisted a white flag in reply but maneuvered warily so as to retain the upper hand in case of any surprises being sprung. With no untoward intent shown by either ship, they came within hailing distance in a shallow bay thirty nautical miles north west of Kangaroo Island. As Rob Mundle puts it in his Flinders: the man who mapped Australia, "[n]ow the two sides were meeting bow to bow at a place which, until that moment, no one had known existed". Flinders would call this place Encounter Bay.
The French vessel was Le Geograph, captained by Nicolas Baudin. Satisfied with the recognition of the ship and knowing full well it was on a scientific expedition such as his own - indeed straight after he boarded it from one of Navigator's boats he would be shown the passport issued by the British Government which was a direct counterpart of his own issued by Napoleon's government - and with the aid of the naturalist, John Brown, who could speak French, the two captains got down to affably comparing notes.
Baudin told Flinders that on initially sighting his ship, he had mistaken it for the French escort ship, Le Naturaliste, for which it had been searching after separation by storm. Baudin had no way of knowing that, storm-damaged and with many of his crew sick with scurvy, the captain of Le Naturaliste had turned and made a run for Port Jackson where it was hoped succor would be found (where indeed it was provided even more generously than the terms of the British passport obliged).
If someone with more zeal and conscientiousness than Boudin had have been chosen to lead the French expedition, the worst fears of the British may have been realised and the history of Australia shot into a radically different direction, perhaps with two different nations sharing the continent with a possible war to determine the overall owner such as happened in Canada. But with Boudin, British Australia was safe. He had no naval background, his seagoing career, formerly being purely merchant marine. He did though have an interest in natural history and science, this being the clincher for the job. Given his future job performance, it's doubtful he even wanted the job. En route to the antipodes, he pulled into the French port of Mauritius where he spent an inexplicable forty days. Because of this delay, it was almost winter before he reached the coast of New Holland, and with the cold months not being an optimum seasonal choice for voyaging in the Southern Ocean, Baudin had elected to follow the coast north at a casual clip, leaving no fewer than 240 place names that still survive before finally reaching the port of Kupang in the Dutch East Indies. Here he wasted another three months. More charitably, it was claimed necessary stores being difficult to procure there caused the delay.
Then with weather more conducive to southern voyaging, the two French vessels backtracked along the west coast, rounded Cape Leeuwin and shot straight across to the south of Van Diemen's Land, rounded it, then proceeded west through Bass Strait to begin the true work of mapping the south of the continent. Because of the delays and separations from the slower Le Naturaliste, Baudin was now a full nine months behind schedule. By the time of what must have been a crushing disappointment in meeting Flinders coming in the opposite direction and having mapped all of the coast behind him, he was ten months out of Le Havre. It's not surprising that crewmen of Le Naturaliste were in such poor physical shape with most suffering varying degrees of scurvy.
The meeting in the bay, named Encounter by Flinders and engraving it in Australian history, lasted only 24 hours. Flinders advised his French counterpart that he would be able to procure fresh water and food on Kangaroo Island before the two ships parted. It was a slow motion parting, the day being so windless the two ships remained in sight of one another for hours even though sailing in opposite directions. Boudin's plan was to continue west (presumbly in a dispirited mood knowing now that he'd been beaten to the punch by Flinders in already charting all the coast he would to see) until the weather turned bad. He would then turn about and head for Port Jackson
Boudin would break off the voyage when the weather turned bad well before reaching Cape Leeuwin and sail back east all the way to Port Jackson. Flinders, in whose esteem Baudin already had a low rating, appears to have graded it even more lowly when he discovered that the Frenchman had sailed straight past Port Phillip Bay without noticing it. However, what would come as a surprise to Flinders was that Lieutenant John Murray had explored and named it ten weeks previously.
On the 8th May, 1802, the Investigator turned in between the rocky outcrops that would eventually be named Sydney Heads. Flinders would soon discover the missing Le Naturaliste had arrived at Port Jackson two weeks earlier, storm damaged and with many of its crew seriously ill.
Not wanting to waste a moment, Flinders quickly set about having his own ship's storm damage repaired, with crewman stitching sails outside of tents pitched on the water-front. Coopers ensured the water-tightness of barrels before their being reenished with drinking water. Among modifications made to the ship was the lowering of a palisade around the deck which would facilitate the sighting needed for hydrography.
Flinders was perhaps only dimly aware at the time that the Investigator could never be made entirely ship-shape. In modern parlance, it was a "lemon". This made sense considering Britain's ongoing war with France necessitated its needing every good quality ship that could be put out to sea. Ergo, the ship made available to Flinders did not fit into this category. It was in fact worse than not deserving of a top-of-the line rating. The timber it was built from was what was called "wainy and sappy". This was caused by timber being green and not properly dried before used in construction, with a propensity for being "soft". Flinders had been made aware of this problem at the time of his taking command of it but it seems not to have greatly concerned him given his elation at being provided any ship at all and furthermore in light of his experiences with the Reliance and the Norfolk, crafts which modern day sailors would probably refuse to board.
Flinders and his crew were still in port preparing their ship for the remainder of the continent's circumnavigation when on June 20th an initially unidentified ship appeared in the harbour. The vessel, looking like a bedraggled ghost ship, seemed almost to be drifting aimlessly, its sails torn or badly set, and evidence of human life barely visible. It was Le Geographe, storm battered and with 158 of its crew of 170 below decks desperately ill. Flinders was the first to act, quickly organising a boat to tow the sad spectacle to a dock. The French vessel would remain in port for the next three months undergoing repairs while the stricken men recuperated from mostly scurvy related illness. By contrast, when the Investigator had arrived in port, residents of the outpost had been impressed by the rude, good health of all on board. This was testament to Flinders' care of and concern for his crew.
As noted, the British and the French were at war. Although Baudin had a passport from the British Government, the same as Flinders had from the French, this was essentially a safeguard from being accosted by representatives of the opposing side. However, officials of Port Jackson showed gallantry in the excess of hospitality, help and respect provided to Baudin and his crew. The British respect for science and exploration also played into the respect members of the French expedition were shown.
To Be Continued
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