The Arrival at Pitcairn
DURING all this time where were Christian and the other guilty men
who followed him? After having set the boat containing Bligh and his
companions adrift, Fletcher Christian assumed command of the _Bounty_,
and returned toward Tahiti. The ship was taken first to Toobonai, the
intention of the men being to settle there; but, finding the place
destitute of animals, they went to Tahiti to procure a stock of pigs
and goats. Obtaining what they needed, they returned again to Toobonai,
but found the natives hostile to their landing. Once more, and for the
third and last time, the _Bounty_ was brought to Tahiti, where she
was anchored in Matavai Bay, on the 20th of September, 1789. Sixteen
of the crew here landed, taking with them their share of the arms and
other articles on board the _Bounty_. These were the men, it will be
understood, who were discovered and taken away by the _Pandora_, as
related in the previous chapter.
Leaving at Tahiti that portion of the crew whose choice it was to
remain, Christian, accompanied by eight of his shipmates who decided
to cast in their lot with him, sailed away from Tahiti forever. But
this number was not all, for six of the native men, and ten women,
and a girl of fifteen, were taken on board as wives and servants, the
sailors having determined to seek some place where they could live
secure from the danger of discovery. It is said that Christian, having
seen an account of the discovery of a lone island in the Pacific Ocean,
by Captain Cartaret, in the year 1767, directed the course of the ship
to that place. It was named Pitcairn Island, after the young man who
descried it, he being, as the story goes, a son of the Major Pitcairn
who fell in the Battle of Bunker Hill.
On the twenty-third day of January, 1790, the _Bounty_ reached her
destination. The island, though small, being about five miles in
circumference, and scarcely more than two miles across at its widest
point, was thickly covered with a luxuriant growth of trees.
On coming near enough for a boat to venture, a small party went on
shore to search the land. They effected a landing on the west side of
the island, but, finding that a few yards from the sea the rocks rose
perpendicularly to a forbidding height, and thinking to find a more
convenient place for a settlement, they brought the ship round to the
northeast side of the island. Here they managed to bring their boat
safely to the shore, through perilous rocks and breakers. It did not
take long to discover that the island had been, and perhaps still was,
inhabited, and fears were entertained lest they should be attacked by
hostile natives. Traces of former habitations,—_marais_, stone images,
rude pictures cut in the rocks, stone hatchets, etc., etc.,—were
evident proofs that human beings had once lived on the island, and in
addition to these, several human skulls and other bones were afterward
seen.
As day after day passed, and no one appeared to molest them, the
mutineers began to feel more secure and safe, and preparations were
made for a permanent settlement. Their supply of water, though not
abundant, was sufficient for their requirements, and the plants brought
with them from Tahiti would, in due course of time, be able to supply
their every want. But, first, all trace of the ship must be destroyed.
She was driven near enough to the shore to allow of her being fastened
to a tree by means of a rope. Everything that could be of service to
the settlers was removed. For greater safety, one little child was
brought ashore in a barrel, as the landing place for boats was very
dangerous. When all had been removed from the ship, she was set on
fire, and destroyed.
There were those among the mutineers, if not all, who were grieved
that they should be obliged to destroy the vessel that had been their
home so long. Especially was it so with John Mills, if his daughter’s
testimony is correct, for she never wearied of telling how her
father sorrowed over the destruction of the _Bounty_, as it was his
hope one day to return in her to England, even at the risk of his
life. These fugitives from justice spent the early days of their
settlement on Pitcairn Island in caves, and tents made of canvas, while
their cottages were being built. Here, on this solitary, uninhabited
spot, Christian could, at least, hope to hide himself and his guilty
associates from the extreme penalty of the law.
But no degree of outward security could bring peace to a mind
constantly disturbed with self-accusing thoughts, or still the
reproaches of a conscience burdened with guilt and remorse. Poor,
misguided men! Utterly isolated from the rest of the world, their
only means of communication destroyed, their condition was forlorn
in the extreme. In their outward circumstances they were tolerably
comfortable, as they had brought with them enough of the necessities
of life to sustain them until the land could be made to produce fresh
supplies. Such clothing as they possessed would have to be carefully
kept, and as regarded the native men and women, the simplest covering
sufficed for them. The land was shared out among the Englishmen, their
native servants helping them to cultivate the ground. Salt was obtained
from the small, shallow pools in the rocks, and these rocks were also
shared among them.
For two years a fair degree of prosperity blessed their efforts, but
the comparative peace and success they enjoyed could not be expected to
continue. The first real trouble and disturbance was caused by one of
the mutineers named Williams. His wife had gone out one day among the
cliffs to search for sea birds and eggs. While so doing, she fell and
was killed. Williams, wanting another woman, demanded and obtained the
wife of one of the native men. Wronged and outraged by this scandalous
act, the native men vowed to be revenged on the Englishmen, and a plot
was formed to murder them all. The secret being made known to the
women, they imparted it to the Englishmen, in a song as follows:—
“Why does black man sharpen ax?
To kill white man.”
And now begins a story of oppression, treachery, and bloodshed, that
forms the darkest page in this island’s history. So constant was the
dread experienced by some of the women, that they contrived, in secret,
to construct a rude raft, with the intention of returning to Tahiti, or
be lost in the attempt. They had their raft launched, and ventured a
little way beyond the breakers; but their hearts failed them, and the
entreaties of some of the women left behind, who had found out their
intention, prevailing, they returned to shore again. Hostile feelings
were strong on both sides. The women, however, sided entirely with the
Englishmen. In one instance one of the women deliberately murdered her
native husband, when they were alone together in a cave where they
lived.[1]
[Footnote 1: It is to this that Mr. Nobbs referred when, many years
later, in his song entitled “Pitcairn,” he speaks of the “ghost that
still lingers on Tullaloo’s Ridge.” Tullaloo was the man’s name.]
When some degree of peace had been restored, and the suspicions of
their masters were quieted, the wronged and oppressed Tahitians,
obtaining possession of arms, fell upon the white men while they were
quietly working on their allotments of land, and hunted and shot them
down. Fletcher Christian, John Mills, Isaac Martin, William Brown,
and John Williams were killed. William McCoy and Matthew Quintall
escaped into the woods, while John Adams, having at first escaped into
the woods, on again showing himself, was shot and severely wounded.
Recovering himself, he ran away from his pursuers, and, making for the
rocky cliffs, would have thrown himself off, but those in pursuit, by
sundry signs, showed that they intended no further harm. Being thus
reassured of his safety, he returned with them to one of the houses,
where he was kindly treated. Edward Young, a favorite with the women,
had been concealed by them, and so escaped the dangers to which the
others had been exposed. Thus were the lives of four among the nine
mutineers spared. But peace was not yet to be. How was it possible,
when the men and women that remained practiced freely every vice that
could degrade manhood and womanhood. Treachery and bloodshed still
raged among them, and no one felt his life secure.
[Illustration: THE LANDING PLACE, BOUNTY BAY.]
A story is told of how the death of one of the native men was
accomplished. It was before anyone had been killed. The man, called
by the name of Timiti, had been accused of some wrongdoing, and was
brought before the Englishmen to be tried. Christian, so the story
goes, was, while trying the case, walking backward and forward
through the midst of the assembled company met to see the result of the
trial. Timiti, learning only too well that his sentence would be death,
took the opportunity when Christian was in the act of turning himself
around, to make a spring for the open door. Before his judges could
recover from their surprise, he was too far on his way to be readily
overtaken, and his pursuers were obliged to return without him. Taking
a short cut down towards the sea, he speedily descended the steep
cliffs, and ran across the rocky shore. Swimming across places where no
footpath could be found, and walking the rest of the way, he at length
reached a place on the south side of the island known by the name
of Taowtama. Here he succeeded in hiding himself for a while, until
someone descried him from the heights above, engaged in a favorite
pastime, called _ihara_ (pronounced _e-hurra_).
The news soon spread that Timiti’s hiding place was discovered, and
another native, named Menálee, was sent out to secure him. One of his
companions also went with him, and before long they were at the place.
Timiti, suspecting treachery, would have fled, but the two men, through
their fair speeches and the food they had brought him, quickly disarmed
him of his suspicions. To further assure him they produced a comb, and
prevailed on him to let them comb his hair. Having thus decoyed him
into their power, the rest was easy enough, and a few seconds sufficed
to dispatch the poor fellow.
After the massacre of Christian and his companions the native men
turned upon one another, and the four remaining Englishmen, assisted
by the widows of the murdered white men, joined in ridding the island
of these “disturbers of the peace,” so that in a short time after the
mutineers had been killed every one of the native men was also put to
death.
During the occurrence of these shocking scenes, how must every human
impulse and every kindly feeling have been nearly extinguished! To
add to the dreadful evils that were committed, McCoy, who had been
brought up in a distillery, spent much of his time in distilling ardent
spirits from the roots of the _tee_ plant. Quintall assisted him, his
“teakettle being converted into a still.” These two men succeeded but
too well. Drunkenness was added to the already long list of vices,
and was of frequent occurrence. In McCoy’s case it brought its own
punishment, for in an attack of delirium he made his way to the rocky
shore, and, fastening a stone around his body, cast himself off into
the sea. The dead body was found by a little girl, a daughter of John
Adams, and was brought up to the little settlement and buried.
Quintall, McCoy’s boon companion, met his death at the hands of his
two remaining shipmates. Always disorderly and troublesome, provoking
a quarrel whenever he could, and frequently threatening the lives of
Young and Adams, he became a constant terror to them. As an instance of
his ferocious nature, the story is handed down that one day his wife
went out fishing, and, not succeeding in obtaining enough to satisfy
Quintall, he punished her by biting off her ear.[2] Like Williams, he
also lost his wife, and in the same way, she having fallen from the
rocks when going after birds. Regardless of the fearful consequences
which so quickly followed a crime of the same nature only a short
time before, Quintall demanded the wife of one of his two remaining
companions. Their refusal to comply with his demands determined him to
try to put his oft-repeated threats into execution. Adams and Young,
knowing their lives to be in danger, felt themselves justified in
putting an end to Quintall’s life.
[Footnote 2: Asserted as a fact.]
The opportunity soon came, and one day when he was in John Adams’
house, he was set upon and overpowered by the two other men. By means
of a hatchet the dreadful work of death was soon completed. The
daughter of John Mills (who lived to the age of ninety-three), then
a young girl of eight or nine years of age, was an eyewitness of the
awful deed, and used to relate how terrified were all of the little
band of women and children who beheld the blood-bespattered walls. The
dreadful scene was vividly pictured on her mind and memory through the
long course of more than eighty years.
[Illustration]