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In early 2024, I approached an academic publisher with a proposal to compose the first modern biography of a relatively unknown—but ultimately highly influential—early nineteenth-century navigator, Samuel Ward Flinders (1782–1834). I was also fortunate in being awarded a visiting fellowship at the State Library of New South Wales. That allowed me to make sustained progress and finish my manuscript well before my publisher’s deadline. Early on during my research into Samuel’s background, I found a true gem: his Service Record. Catalogue description Name: Samuel Ward Flinders; Rank: Lieutenant; Date of Seniority: 6 March 1804. Reference: ADM 9/8/2463 Description: Name: Samuel Ward Flinders; Rank: Lieutenant; Date of Seniority: 6 March 1804 Date: 1817 Held by: The National Archives, Kew Legal status: Public Record(s) Language: English Closure status: Open Document, Open Description   Context In the late eighteenth century, the dominant sea-faring European nations continued to explore commercial shipping routes to ever more distant destinations. Yet, a reliable means of geographic position determination at sea remained elusive. Determination of one’s latitude was relatively straightforward. One simply needed to measure the height of the Sun or those of one or more bright stars at their meridian passage (the highest point in their apparent arc across the night sky), and a latitude measurement would follow easily. Determination of one’s longitude at sea was significantly more complicated. Longitude determination relies on knowing one’s local time with respect to that at a reference location—such as the Canary Islands or, later, Greenwich. Solving the “longitude problem” occupied generations of scientist–scholars and navigators. It took until the second half of the eighteenth century before John Harrison (1693–1776) had perfected his maritime timepiece to work sufficiently well, ultimately earning him about half of the British Longitude Prize of 1714. Chronometers of sufficient accuracy had become available by the time of James Cook’s (1728–1779) second and third voyages to the Pacific (1772–1775 and 1776–1779). However, one had to wind them up periodically and recalibrate them occasionally given that “clock rates” decay over time. Recalibration relied upon accurate “lunar distance” measurements. This required observations of the apparent (angular) distances on the sky between well-known bright stars (or the Sun) and the lunar limb. In turn, these had to be reconciled with tabulated values (almanacs) for those same angular distances as observed from, for instance, Greenwich. For these reasons, it was common for voyages of exploration to include competent astronomers. H.M. Ship Investigator In 1801, the “Commissioners of the (Board of) Longitude” appointed John Crosley (1762–1817) as astronomer on board H.M. Ship Investigator for its European circumnavigation of New Holland (Australia) in 1801–1803. The Investigator was commanded by Matthew Flinders (1774–1814). When Crosley fell ill on the outbound leg to the Cape of Good Hope, which eventually forced him to resign from his mission and return to England, the astronomer’s duties fell onto the commander. No suitable replacement could be found at the Cape and there was insufficient time to wait for the Board of Longitude to send a replacement. Given the demands of the commander’s role, Matthew Flinders therefore increasingly delegated the astronomer’s duties to his younger brother, Samuel. Samuel had shown some promise in conducting astronomical observations back in England, but he really grew into the role during the Investigator’s expedition. However, he is often portrayed as the “black sheep” of the Flinders family. Part of that unfortunate reputation is likely owing to a few instances when he forgot to rewind the expedition’s chronometers. That apparent negligence required extensive astronomical observations and lengthy calculations to achieve recalibration. From footnote to main character Samuel has mostly remained a secondary character, a “footnote”, in the annals of history. However, on careful consideration, his achievements clearly outweigh that subsidiary classification. Given Samuel’s relative obscurity, primary source materials were few and far between. I undertook extensive searches for any useful information, including of much of the archival materials pertaining to the early development of Australia as a British colony. A breakthrough of sorts materialised when I came across an entry in the online catalogue of the UK’s National Archives referring to Samuel’s date of seniority: the document discussed here. When I received a scan of the document, I quickly realised it was as good as gold dust. As you can see from the image provided on the left, it contains Samuel’s full service record. That helped me tremendously in establishing a firm timeline for his career—from the time he boarded H.M. Ship Reliance as an 11-year-old in September 1794 to his dismissal from command of H.M. Ship Bloodhound following his court-martial in August 1808. The book resulting from my research is in press at the time of this writing. It consolidates the widely scattered literature about Samuel’s life and achievements into the astronomer’s first modern biography. The book contains a conclusive assessment as to whether his bad reputation is warranted by the historic record. An important finding is that Samuel’s poor reputation seems unwarranted; it is likely driven by open animosity between the two branches of the Flinders family, those branching off from Matthew and Samuel. In her foreword to my book, Gillian Dooley (Flinders University, Adelaide) writes that I am “… to be congratulated for restoring Samuel Flinders to his rightful place among the scientists and officers involved in the navigation and charting of the Australian coast.”