The naval captains and officers had to adapt to both crowded quarters and mostly bourgeois civilians appointed as scientists (termed naturalists). As civilians, these men were not subject to naval laws and regulations, although they claimed privileges similar to the officers. Understandably, their purpose lay in discovery and collecting on land, so their concerns frequently conflicted with those of the officers whose function was with the ocean and its weather, tides and timetable. The scientists always desired more time to explore, the sailors to up-anchor. A further likely cause of friction developed between the mostly royalist officers and the naturalist intellectuals, the majority of whom were republicans. These factors became evident at Recherche Bay and were later to have serious consequences on Java.

D’Entrecasteaux was well aware of the problems of sailing with civilians. Having experienced friction aboard en route to Cape Town, he wrote to his Minister on 13 February 1792 expressing his feelings and annoyance as a naval officer:

Such incidents and tensions also worked both ways. At Cape Town, the chief astronomer, an artist, and the mineralogist disembarked to return home.

Jacques-Julien Houton de Labillardière. In The literature of Australian birds: a history and a bibliography of Australian ornithology, Hubert Massey Whittell, Perth: Paterson Brokensha, 1954, Plate 23. National Library of Australia

Given the rudimentary state of scientific disciplines at this period and the limited expertise for investigating new lands amongst the scientific group, those men recommended by the Société d’ Histoire Naturelle possessed qualifications of some potential and their activities justified their inclusion. The unfortunate loss of some collections and the confiscation of their journals negated the work of some naturalists, through no fault of their own.

The oldest, most senior and most vexatious scientist was Jacques-Julien Houton de Labillardière (1755–1834), who conveniently and, as a republican, democratically chose simply to be called Labillardière. Born into a provincial middle class Normandy family, he studied medicine at Montpellier, Reims and Paris. However, he became a botanist of repute, with field experience in Europe and Syria. For two years he lived in London, where he studied the plants brought back by James Cook. Fortunately for his future career, he met Sir Joseph Banks while in England. He was a person of strong convictions and it is testimony to d’Entrecasteaux’s tolerant command that only one incident, discussed later, is known of his firmly disputing Labillardière’s demands.

Louis-August Deschamps (1755–1842) and Claude-Antoine Gaspard Riche (1762–97) also took medical degrees before moving into natural science. Their division of duties was determined by d’Entrecasteaux only when they were at Amboina, following the first visit to Recherche Bay. Labillardière was undisputed in the botanical field, Riche took birds, shells and worms, while Deschamps was responsible for mammals, fish, amphibians and insects. In the absence of a mineralogist, Deschamps also assumed that duty.

Louis Ventenat (1765–94) was a priest, originally chaplain and confessor to d’Entrecasteaux, who later banished him to the Espérance for possibly encouraging insubordination below decks (he was a republican in sentiment).^[4] As an enlisted naval person he was subject to naval rules, which also meant that he did not receive as much remuneration as the naturalists were paid. He proved to be a conscientious and thoughtful assistant botanist. Ventenat possessed a sense of humour. Admitting that he and Riche got themselves lost on occasion, he wryly observed, ‘Mr Deschamps was never in this predicament; he took care always to be on board for breakfast, dinner and supper.’^[5] Indeed, Deschamps contributed least of all to the savants on the voyage and in the end his collections and journal became lost during his return voyage to France in 1803. His ship was captured by the Royal Navy and his collections were seized.

Riche belonged to a Lyons district legal family who achieved high medical results. As he was a consumptive, the voyage may have been taken as a health cure. A republican of conviction, he travelled on the Espérance. Labillardière and Deschamps were shipmates on Recherche, but there any similarity ceases. Labillardière was an impatient explorer, spending undue time on the land to the commander’s annoyance. Royalist Deschamps hailed from St Omer, near Calais, and chose to remain aboard ship much of the time available for fieldwork.

Industrious Felix Delahaye (1767–1829) was engaged as gardener-botanist, following enthusiastic recommendations from the head of the celebrated Paris botany school, Jardin du Roi, soon to be renamed Jardin des Plantes, where he worked. He arrived in Brest with four cases of garden seeds, one of fruit tree nuts, one containing gardening tools and another gardener’s clothing. His activities and dedication surely merited status ranking with the naturalists, but the unfortunate man, who was to play a central role in determining the heritage fortunes of Recherche Bay, was exiled to eat and sleep in the fetid crew’s quarters. The Bligh of France, he took breadfruit plants to Mauritius.

Astronomical observations were to have been the responsibility of Abbé Claude Bertrand (1755–92). His intrepid spirit seemed assured, because in 1784 he ascended in a balloon, only one year after the first airborne balloon. His reputation commanded the highest remuneration of 3,000 livres per annum, whereas most naturalists received 2,400 livres; lowly Delahaye’s annual salary was only 1,000 livres, although he received compensation of 1,236 livres for his practical equipment.

Much to everyone’s gratification, Bertrand abandoned the expedition at Cape Town because his health and character proved unacceptable for a long, crowded voyage. A Benedictine chaplain, Dom Ambroise Pierson (1765–94) assisted conscientiously in the essential astronomical work. In Bertrand’s absence, however, it was Lieutenant Rossel who distinguished himself in the astronomical field, together with measuring terrestrial magnetism at various latitudes. When he later published the d’Entrecasteaux journal, he added considerable detail concerning the astronomical record. He received enthusiastic astronomical assistance, also, from Willaumez and an 18-year-old midshipman, Achard de Bonvouloir.

An important objective of the expedition was to chart unknown coastlines. In hydrography and cartography, new international standards in accuracy were set by Charles-François Beautemps-Beaupré (1766–1854), and nowhere better than in Tasmanian waters. Aged only 25, he applied new techniques of surveying, described later. This was the beginning of a career that made him a Grand Officer of the Legion of Honour. He sailed on Recherche.

Like Miroir-Jouvency (ca 1754–98) aboard Espérance, Beautemps-Beaupré was termed a geographer in the parlance of that time, but surveyors and cartographers they both were. Miroir-Jouvency had the prior experience of mapping Corsica but, although active, his role was less productive than that of the ever busy Beautemps-Beaupré.

Each vessel carried an artist, but only one of them sailed beyond Cape Town. This was Jean Piron, about whom little is known and many of whose drawings were lost. He befriended Labillardière and explored Recherche Bay with him. Fortunately, he presented copies of some drawings, including those of Tasmanian people, to his friend. Consequently, Labillardière included them as illustrations in his book, published in 1800. In this way, priceless visual records were preserved of French contacts with the Tasmanians. That he portrayed them according to the rubrics of classical art is less important than that he depicted them sympathetically as friendly and fully human people, indicating that their stoicism derived from the hard life they had, as opposed to the ‘soft’ primitivism of Polynesians.

There was one crew member aboard the Recherche whose presence attracts modern media attention and gossipy surmises. This was the steward, Louis Girardin, actually Louise (1754–94), the only female on the expedition.^[6] Her disguise was maintained throughout, even to fighting a duel that resulted in her receiving a wounded arm. Even so, her slight figure and facial appearance made her suspect, although the fact that d’Entrecasteaux provided her with a tiny separate cabin assisted greatly in her deception.

Louise clearly could look after herself, despite taunts from suspicious crew. From a bourgeois family — her father was a Versailles wine merchant — she was a youthful-looking 38 years old. She had been widowed, then borne an illegitimate child to a lover who deserted her. Fleeing from her wrathful father, she was assisted by a widowed sister of Kermadec, presumably a former Versailles friend. She coaxed Kermadec to give her a place in the crew of the ship he then commanded. When a mutiny threatened, he had her transferred to the Recherche.

Surely d’Entrecasteaux knew her secret, but there is no evidence that she granted sexual favours to anyone. Even the cynical and forthright La Motte du Portail told Zélie, that ‘we did not really have anything positive on which to ground our suspicion, and our suspicions were based only on the way this person was built’.^[7] Whatever the gossip concerning Louise, her presence must have provoked many tensions and subjects for coarse discussion on the voyage. She remained undetected until her death in Java.

There was one other person in the crew about whom only one passing reference has been found. In writing his official report of a boat journey on 20 May 1792, Lieutenant Saint Aignan reported that his team included Crestin, three men ‘and the little cabinboy Hypolite’. French naval vessels carried a number of cabinboys, termed ‘mousse’. This lad presumably was Charles-Francois-Hipolite Deslacs d’Arcambal (1777–1805), of Parisian aristocratic birth who died at Trafalgar. Cape Deslacs, which they surveyed while he was in the boat, was presumably named in his honour. It is west of the Tasman Peninsula. The Hippolyte rocks, east of that peninsula may have a similar origin. The rocks were known by that name when Baudin sailed past in 1802.^[8] So this 15-year-old lad’s name is remembered today, while places named for many senior shipmates were replaced by British nomenclature.

It is noteworthy that when the ships sailed from Brest, all but two of the Recherche officers had served previously under d’Entrecasteaux, who had chosen them for this enterprise. The companion vessel was commanded by his friend Kermadec, to whom he entrusted the vital task of equipping and victualling the expedition. Within contemporary standards, most of the naturalists and geographers were well qualified and they received the approval of French scientific societies. This should have proven a harmonious and successful voyage, yet it ended in death and disaster, while La Pérouse was never found. At Recherche Bay, however, its scientific achievements were of global significance, while interaction between sailors and Tasmanians proved a model of mutual respect and observation.

The crews were recruited largely from the revolutionary Brest area, so while many officers were loyal to the king, most Breton seamen would have held republican sentiments. The vessels therefore reflected a microcosm of French revolutionary society, so it points to the diplomatic control exerted by d’Entrecasteaux that he kept shipboard order. For the mostly republican savants, their departure from France in those revolutionary times combined with the anticipation of discoveries. Wordsworth’s celebrated lines (The Prelude, Book 2, lines 108-9) are appropriate to their emotions: