It is not our purpose to follow the fortunes of Captain Bligh. The
mutineers in the _Bounty_ claim our undivided attention.
As regards Bligh, it is sufficient to say that he performed one of the
most remarkable boat-voyages on record. In an overloaded and open boat,
on the shortest allowance of provision compatible with existence,
through calm and tempest, heat and cold, exposed to the attacks of
cannibals and to the reproaches of worn-out and mutinous men, he
traversed 3618 miles of ocean in forty-one days, and brought himself and
his followers to land, with the exception of one man who was killed by
the natives. In this achievement he displayed those qualities of
indomitable resolution and unflagging courage which ultimately raised
him to high rank in the navy. But we leave him now to trace those
incidents which result from the display of his other qualities--
ungovernable passion, overbearing impetuosity, and incomprehensible
meanness.
The first act of Fletcher Christian, after taking command of the ship,
was to serve out a glass of grog all round. He then called a council of
war, in which the mutineers discussed the question what they should do.
"You see, lads," said Christian, "it is absolutely certain that we
shan't be left among these islands in peace. Whether Bligh manages to
get home or not, the British Government is sure to send out to see what
has become of us. My notion is that we should bear away to the
south'ard, far out of the usual track of ships, find out some
uninhabited and suitable island, and establish ourselves thereon?"
"What! without wives, or sisters, or mothers, or grandmothers, to say
nothin' o' mothers-in-law, to cook our victuals an' look after our
shirt-buttons?" said Isaac Martin, who, having been detained against his
will, had become lugubriously, or recklessly, facetious, and was
stimulated to a sort of fierce hilarity by his glass of rum.
"You're right, Martin," said Brown, the assistant botanist, "we couldn't
get along without wives, so I vote that we go back to Otaheite, get
married, every man of us, an' ho! for the South Pole. The British
cruisers would never find us there."
There was a general laugh at this sally, but gravity returned almost
instantly to every face, for they were in no humour just then for
jesting. It is probable that each man began to realise the dreadful
nature of his position as an outlaw whose life was forfeited to his
country, and who could never more hope to tread the shores of Old
England, or look upon the faces of kindred or friends. In such
circumstances men sometimes try to hide their true feelings under a veil
of recklessness or forced mirth, but seldom succeed in the attempt.
"No man in his senses would go back to Otaheite--at least not to stay
there," said John Adams, gravely; "it's the first place they will send
to look for us."
"What's the odds?" growled one of the seamen. "They won't look there
for us for a long time to come, unless Cap'n Bligh borrows a pair of
wings from an albatross, an' goes home as the crow flies."
At this point John Mills, the gunner's mate, a man of about forty,
cleared his throat and gave it as his opinion that they should not go
back to Otaheite, but should leave the matter of their future
destination in the hands of Mr Christian, who was well able to guide
them.
This proposal was heartily backed by Edward Young, midshipman, a stout
young fellow of twenty-two, who was fond of Christian; but there were
one or two dissentient voices, among which were the little middy Peter
Heywood, his brother-officer George Stewart, and James Morrison the
boatswain's mate. These wished to return to Otaheite, but the counsel
of the majority prevailed, and Christian ultimately steered for the
island of Toubouai, which lay some five hundred miles to the south of
Otaheite. There he expected to be safe from pursuit, and there it was
resolved that the mutineers should take up their abode if the natives
proved friendly.
That night, while the _Bounty_ was skimming gently over the starlit sea
before a light breeze, the three officers, Heywood, Stewart, and Young,
leaned over the weather side of the quarter-deck, and held a whispered
conversation.
"Why did you vote for going back to Otaheite, Heywood?" asked Young.
"Because it is to Otaheite that they will send to look after us, and I
should like to be there to give myself up, the instant a man-of-war
arrives, and declare my innocence of the crime of mutiny."
"You are right, Heywood," said Stewart; "I, too, would like to give
myself up the moment I get the chance. Captain Bligh knows that you and
I had no hand in the mutiny, and if he reaches England will clear us of
so foul a stain. It's a pity that those who voted for Otaheite were not
in the majority."
"That's all very well for you, who were seen to go below to fetch your
clothes, and were detained against your will," said Young, "but it was
not so with me. I was forcibly detained below. They would not allow me
to go on deck at all until the launch had left, so that it would go hard
with me before a court-martial. But the die is now cast, and there's no
help for it. Although I took no part in the mutiny, I won't risk
falling into the hands of justice, with such an unprincipled scoundrel
as Bligh to witness against me. My future fortunes now lie with
Fletcher Christian. I cannot avoid my fate."
Young spoke sadly, yet with some bitterness of tone, like one who has
made up his mind to face and endure the worst.
On reaching the remote island of Toubouai the mutineers were much
impressed with its beauty. It seemed exceedingly fertile, was wooded to
the water's edge, and surrounded by a coral reef, with one opening
through which a ship might enter. Altogether it seemed a most suitable
refuge, but here they met with an insurmountable difficulty. On drawing
near to the shore they saw hundreds of natives, who, armed with clubs
and spears, lined the beach, blew their shell-horns, and resolutely
opposed the landing of the strangers.
As all efforts to conciliate them were fruitless, resort was had to
cannon and musketry. Of course the terrible thunder of the white man's
artillery had its usual effect on the savages. They fled inland, and
the mutineers gained a footing on the island.
But the natives continued their opposition so vigorously, that this
refuge proved to be the reverse of a place of rest.
Christian therefore changed his plan, and, re-embarking in the _Bounty_,
set sail for Otaheite.
On the way thither the mutineers disagreed among themselves. Some of
those who had been forcibly detained even began to plot the retaking of
the ship, but their intentions were discovered and prevented.
On the 6th of June they reached their former anchorage in Otaheite,
where the natives received them with much joy and some surprise, but a
story was trumped up to account for this sudden re-appearance of the
mutineers.
Christian, however, had not yet given up his intention of settling on
the island of Toubouai. He foresaw the doom that awaited him if he
should remain at Otaheite, and resolved to return to the former island
with a quantity of livestock. He began to barter with the friendly
Otaheitans, and soon had as many hogs, goats, fowls, cats, and dogs as
he required, besides a bull and a cow which had been left there by
Captain Cook. With these and several natives he sailed again for
Toubouai. Arriving there in nine days, he found that a change had come
over the spirit of the natives. They were decidedly and unaccountably
amiable. They not only permitted the white men to land, but assisted
them in warping the ship into a place of shelter, as well as in landing
provisions and stores.
Fletcher Christian, whatever his faults may have been, seems to have had
peaceful tendencies. He had not only secured the friendship of the
Otaheitans by his just and considerate treatment of them while engaged
in barter, but he now managed to conciliate some of the chiefs of
Toubouai. As a precaution, however, he set about building an entrenched
fortress, in the labours connected with which he took his full share of
work with the men. While the building was in progress the natives,
despite the friendly chiefs, threw off the mask of good-will, which had
doubtless been put on for the purpose of getting the white men into
their power. Strong in overwhelming numbers, they made frequent attacks
on the mutineers, which these latter, being strong in arms, successfully
repelled. It soon became evident that warfare, not peace, was to be the
lot of the residents on Toubouai, and, finally, it was agreed that the
_Bounty_ should be got ready for sea, and the whole party should return
to Otaheite.
The resolution was soon carried into effect, and the mutineers ere long
found themselves once again drawing near to the island.
As they approached it under full sail, for the wind was light, the men
stood looking at it, commenting on its beauty and the amiableness of its
people, but Fletcher Christian stood apart by himself, with his back to
the shore, gazing in the opposite direction.
Edward Young went up to him.
"If this breeze holds, sir, we shall soon be at anchor in our old
quarters."
The midshipman spoke in the respectful tone of one addressing his
superior officer. Indeed, although Christian had, by his rash and
desperate act of mutiny, forfeited his position, and lowered himself to
a level with the worst of his associates, he never lost their respect.
It is recorded that they styled him _Mister_ Christian to the end.
"At anchor!" said Christian, in a tone of deepest despondency. "Ah,
Edward Young, there is no anchorage for us now in this world! We may
anchor in Matavai Bay to-night, but it will only be to up anchor and off
again in a few days."
"Come, come, sir," said Young, heartily, "don't give way to despondency.
You know we were driven to act as we did, and it can't be helped now."
"_We_ were driven! My poor fellow," returned Christian, laying a hand
on the midshipman's shoulder, "_you_ had no part in this miserable
business. It is I who have drawn you all into it, but--well, well, as
you say, it can't be helped now. We must make the best of it,--God help
us!"
He spoke in a low, soft tone of profound sadness, and continued his
wistful gaze over the stern of the _Bounty_. Presently he looked
quickly round, and, taking Young's arm, began to pace the deck while he
spoke to him.
"As you say, Edward, we shall anchor once more in Matavai Bay, but I am
firmly resolved not to remain there."
"I'm sorry to hear it, sir," said Young, "for most of the men are as
firmly resolved to stay, and you know several of them are resolute, not
to say desperate, characters."
"I am quite aware of that, but I shall make a proposal to them, which I
think they will accept. I will first of all propose to leave Otaheite
for some safer place of refuge, and when they object to that, I will
propose to divide the whole of the ship's stores and property among us
all, landing that portion which belongs to those who elect to remain on
the island, and sailing away with the rest, and with those who choose to
follow my fortunes, to seek a more distant and a safer home."
"That may perhaps suit them," said Young.
"Suit _them_," rejoined Christian, with a quick glance; "then _you_
don't count yourself one of them?"
"No," returned the midshipman with a frank look, "I will follow you now,
sir, to the end. How far I am guilty is a question that does not
concern me at present. If the British Government gets hold of me, my
fate is sealed. I am in the same boat with yourself, Mr Christian, and
I mean to stick by it."
There was a strange spasm on Christian's countenance, as if of
conflicting emotions, while he grasped the youth's hand and squeezed it.
"Thank you, Edward, thank you. Go now and see the anchor cleared to let
go."
He descended quickly to the cabin, while the unfortunate midshipman went
forward to give the order.
When the proposal just referred to was made the following day, after
landing at Otaheite, it was at once agreed to. Peter Heywood, Stewart,
Morrison, and others who had taken no active part in the mutiny, were
glad to have the prospect of being enabled, sooner or later, to make a
voluntary surrender of themselves, while the thoughtless and reckless
among the men were well pleased to have done with uncertain wanderings,
and to be allowed to settle among their amiable native friends.
Preparations for instant departure were made by Christian and those who
chose to follow his lead. The contents of the _Bounty_ were landed and
fairly divided; then the vessel was got ready for her final voyage.
Those who resolved to sail in her were as follows:--
Fletcher Christian, formerly acting lieutenant--age 24.
Edward Young, midshipman--age 22.
John Adams, seaman--age 22.
William McCoy, seaman--age 25.
Matthew Quintal, seaman--age 21.
John Williams, seaman--age 25.
Isaac Martin, seaman--age 30.
John Mills, gunner's mate--age 40.
William Brown, botanist's assistant--age 27.
All these had married native women of Otaheite, who agreed to forsake
home and kindred and follow the fortunes of their white husbands. There
were also six native men who consented to accompany them. Their names
were Talaloo, Ohoo, Timoa, Nehow, Tetaheite, and Menalee. Three of
these had wives, and one of the wives had a baby girl by a former
husband. The European sailors named the infant Sally. She was a round
light-brown embodiment of gleeful impudence, and had barely reached the
staggering age of infancy when taken on board the _Bounty_ to begin her
strange career.
Thus the party consisted of twenty-eight souls--namely, nine mutineers,
six native men, twelve native women, and the light-brown baby.
It was a pleasant bright morning in September 1790 when Fletcher
Christian and his followers bade farewell to Otaheite. For some time
the breeze was light, and the _Bounty_ hovered round the Island as if
loath to leave it. In the dusk of evening a boat put off from her,
pulled to the shore, and Christian landed, alone, near the house of a
chief who had become the special friend of Peter Heywood and Stewart.
With the two midshipmen he spent some time in earnest conversation.
"I could not leave you," he said in conclusion, "without relieving my
mind of all that I have just said about the mutiny, because you are sure
to be sent for and taken to England as soon as the intelligence of this
sad affair reaches. I advise you to go off at once to the first ship
that may appear, and give yourselves up to the commander."
"Such is our intention," said Heywood.
"Right," rejoined Christian; "you are both innocent. No harm can come
to you, for you took no part in the mutiny. For me, my fate is fixed.
I go to search for some remote and uninhabited island, where I hope to
spend the remainder of my days without seeing the face of any Europeans
except those who accompany me. It is a dreary thought, lads, to lose
country and kindred and friends for _ever_ by the act of one dark hour.
Now, remember, Heywood, what I have told you to tell my friends. God
knows I do not plead guiltless; I am alone responsible for the mutiny,
and I exonerate all, even my adherents, from so much as suggesting it to
me; nevertheless, there are some who love me in England, to whom I would
beg of you to relate the circumstances that I have told you. These may
extenuate though they cannot justify the crime I have committed. I
assure you, most solemnly, that almost up to the last I had no intention
of doing more than making my own escape from the ship which the
injustice and brutality of Bligh had made a place of torment to me.
When you called me, Stewart, to relieve the watch, my brain seemed on
fire, and it was when I found the two officers both asleep, who should
have been on duty, that I suddenly made up my mind to take the ship.
Now," concluded Christian, grasping the hands of the youths, "I must say
farewell. I have done you grievous wrong. God forgive me, and bless
you. Good-bye, Peter; good-bye, Stewart, good-bye."
He turned abruptly, stepped into his boat, and was rowed out to sea.
The young midshipmen, with moistened eyes, stood silently watching the
boat until it reached the ship. Then they saw the _Bounty_ steering
away to the northward. Before daylight was quite gone she had
disappeared on the distant horizon.
Thus did Fletcher Christian and his comrades pass from the sight and ken
of man, and they were not heard of after that for more than twenty
years!
But you and I, reader, have a special privilege to follow up these
mutineers. Before doing so, however, let us note briefly what became of
their comrades left on Otaheite.
These, to the number of sixteen, soon distributed themselves among the
houses of their various friends, and proceeded to make themselves quite
at home. Some of them, however, were not disposed to take up a
permanent abode there. Among these was the boatswain's mate, James
Morrison, a man of superior mental power and energy, who kept an
interesting and graphic journal of events. [See note.] He, with the
armourer, cooper, carpenter's mate, and others, set to work to construct
a small vessel, in which they meant to sail to Batavia, whence they
hoped to procure a passage to England. The natives opposed this at
first, but on being told that the vessel was only meant for pleasure
trips round the island, they ceased their opposition, and watched with
great wonder at the process of ship-building, which was carried on
industriously from day to day.
During the progress of the work there was witnessed an interesting
ceremony, which, according to custom, was annually performed by the
chief of the district and a vast concourse of natives. It shows how
deeply the celebrated Captain Cook had gained the reverence and love of
the people of Otaheite. A picture of the circumnavigator, which had
been presented to the islanders by the captain of a merchant vessel, was
brought out with great ceremony and held up before the people, who,
including their queen, Eddea, paid homage to it. A ceremonial dance was
also performed in its honour, and a long oration was pronounced by a
leading chief, after which the portrait was returned to the care of an
old man, who was its appointed custodian.
Long and earnestly did the white men labour at their little ship, and
with equal, if not superior, earnestness did the natives flock from all
parts of the island to see the wonderful work advance, bringing supplies
of provisions to the whites as a sort of payment for admission to the
show. The vessel was completed and launched after months of toil, but
its sails of matting were found to be so untrustworthy that the plan of
proceeding in it to Batavia had to be given up.
Meanwhile, two of the worst of the mutineers, named Thompson and
Churchill, came to a tragical end. The former insulted a member of the
family with whom he resided, and was knocked down. He left them in high
dudgeon, and went to that part of the island where the vessel above
referred to was being built. One day a canoe from a distant district
touched there, and the owner landed with his wife and family, carrying
his youngest child in his arms. Thompson angrily ordered him to go
away, but the man did not obey the order, whereupon Thompson seized his
musket and shot father and child with the same bullet. For this murder
he was shunned with abhorrence by his comrades, and obliged to go off to
another part of the island, accompanied by Churchill. These two took up
their abode with a chief who was a _tayo_, or sworn friend, of the
latter. This chief died shortly afterwards, leaving no children behind
him; and Churchill, being his _tayo_, succeeded to his possessions and
dignity, according to the custom of the country. He did not, however,
enjoy his new position long, for Thompson, from jealousy or some other
cause, shot him. The natives were so incensed at this that they arose
_en masse_ and stoned Thompson to death.
While these events were occurring, a messenger of retribution was
speeding over the sea to Otaheite. On the morning of 23rd March 1791,
exactly sixteen months after the landing of the mutineers, H.M.S.
_Pandora_, Captain Edwards, sailed into Matavai Bay. Before she had
anchored, Coleman the armourer swam off to her, and Peter Heywood and
Stewart immediately followed and surrendered themselves. These, and all
the mutineers, were immediately put in irons, and thrown into a
specially prepared prison on the quarter-deck, named the "Pandora's
Box," in which they were conveyed to England.
We have not space to recount the stirring incidents of this remarkable
and disastrous voyage, and the subsequent trial of the mutineers. Let
it suffice to say, that the _Pandora_, after spending three months in a
fruitless search for the _Bounty_, was wrecked on the homeward voyage,
and a large number of the crew and some of the prisoners were drowned,
among whom was poor Stewart the midshipman. The remainder of the crew
were saved in the ship's boats, after performing a voyage which, as to
its length and the sufferings endured, rivals that previously made by
Bligh. Thereafter, on reaching England, the mutineers were tried by
court-martial; some were honourably acquitted, others were condemned to
death but afterwards pardoned, and ultimately only three were executed.
Among those who were condemned, but afterwards pardoned as being
unquestionably innocent, was Peter Heywood, whose admirable defence and
correspondence with his family, especially that between himself and his
charming sister Nessy, form a most interesting feature in the records of
the trial; but all this must be passed over in silence, while we resume
the thread of our story.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note. Part of this journal is quoted in an excellent account of the
_Mutineers of the Bounty_, by Lady Belcher.