Mutiny on the Bounty

by Nordhoff

  "I found Hallet asleep on the arms chest. As he was also of my watch, I roused him with a show of anger and set him on deck by the after ladderway. He was badly frightened at being caught, and begged me in a low voice to say nothing of the matter to Captain Bligh. Burkitt and the men he had awakened were awaiting me. They fell in at once with my plan. We provided ourselves with muskets and pistols, and I placed Thompson sentinel over the arms chest. We then roused McCoy, Williams, Alexander Smith, and others, every man of them promising his hearty support. They were given arms, and when I had placed sentinels at the hatchways we went to Bligh's cabin. The rest you know."

  He fell silent and sat for some time with his head in his hands, staring at the deck between his feet. At length I forced myself to say, "What chance do you think Bligh has of reaching England?"

  "Little enough. Timor is the nearest place where they could expect help. It is twelve hundred leagues from the place where the launch was cast adrift...When I seized the ship my only thought was that I would carry Bligh home in irons. The men wouldn't have it; you saw that for yourself. I was forced to give way on that point. Then came the question of who was to go with him. My plan was, at first, to send only Fryer, Samuel, Hallet, and Hayward, but I could not refuse to let any others go with him who wished to; in fact, not to have done so would have been highly dangerous. Fryer, Purcell, Cole, and Peckover would, I knew, make every effort to form a party for retaking the ship, if kept with us...Well, enough of this. What is done can't be undone. I now have to think of the men who are with me. The least I can do is to prevent them from being taken."

  "And what of the rest of us?"

  "I have been expecting that question. You have every right to ask it. I can't hope that any of you will give up all thoughts and hope of home and throw in your lot with us as Young has done. My predicament is only less hard than the one I have brought you into." He rose and stood by one of the stern ports, looking out to westward, where the sun had just set. Presently he turned to me again. "If I should take you to Tahiti and allow you to part company from us, none of you would feel bound to keep silence about the mutiny. For the present, much as I regret it, I must keep you with us. I can say no more. You must be content with that."

  Of his immediate plans Christian said nothing, although he gave me to understand that we should be making land within a few days. On the morning of May 28, precisely four weeks after the mutiny, an island was seen dead to windward, distant about six leagues. We spent most of that day in beating up to it, and were becalmed toward nightfall about three miles off the western end. At dawn, when the trade wind made up again, we coasted along the barrier reef which lay a great way offshore, in places as far as two miles. Stewart, who had a perfect memory for latitudes and longitudes and for any chart he had seen, was convinced that this island was Tupuai, which had been discovered by Captain Cook. After nearly two months at sea, the place seemed a Garden of Eden to all of us and, mutineers and nonmutineers alike, we were eager to go ashore. There were various small islands scattered along the reef, and between them, across the lagoons, we had entrancing glimpses of the main island. All along the coast we saw evidences of a numerous population.

  Christian now informed us that there was a pass through the reef into the lagoon, and that he meant to take the ship inside; but when we came abreast of the entrance we found a formidable array of Indians awaiting us. The entire male population of the island must have gathered there. We estimated their numbers at eight or nine hundred. All were armed with spears, clubs, and canoe loads of stones for repelling our entrance. There was no doubt of the hostility of their intentions; they would have none of our friendly overtures, but brandished their spears and sent such showers of stones on our decks from their slings that several of our men were hurt. We were forced to draw off the land, and from the masthead it was clear that the passage into the lagoon and the lagoon itself was scattered with coral shoals which would make navigation of the ship difficult, even granted that we were unmolested by the Indians. With them in opposition all hope of a landing had to be abandoned. Some of the mutineers were for turning the guns on the Indians, and had we done so we could have killed hundreds of them and brought the remainder under subjection; but Christian would have none of this plan. He was resolved that, wherever we went, we would make a peaceful settlement or none at all.

  He now called a conference on the quarter-deck of the men of his own party, and the rest of us, with the exception of Young, were sent forward, out of hearing. At the end of a quarter of an hour the men dispersed to their duties, and it was plain that some decision had been reached pleasing to all of them. The ship was headed north.

  Young was bound to say nothing of what had taken place at the meeting, and we refrained from asking him embarrassing questions. But, knowing our position, we also knew that north, if that course were to be held for several days, could mean only one thing: our destination was Tahiti. Morrison, Stewart, and I talked in whispers in the berth that evening. We scarcely dared hope for such good fortune as a return to Tahiti. There, if anywhere, we stood some chance of meeting any vessel that might be sent out to search for the Bounty . We might have to wait for several years, but a vessel was certain to come at last. We resolved that, if the Bounty called there, we would never come away in her. We would escape, somehow, and conceal ourselves until the ship had put to sea again.

  CHAPTER XI.—THE LAST OF THE BOUNTY

  On the day following our decision to escape, should the ship put in at Tahiti, Christian sent for me once more. I found him with Churchill in his cabin, and when he had motioned me to the settee he dismissed the sentinel and closed the door. Christian looked stern, sad, and careworn, but Churchill, who stood by the door with folded arms, greeted me with a smile. He was a tall, powerful fellow, in middle life, with cold blue eyes and a determined reckless face.

  "I have sent for you, Mr. Byam," said Christian formally, "to acquaint you with our decision regarding you and your companions who had no hand in the taking of the ship. We bear you no yet circumstances oblige us to take every precaution for our own safety. We are now steering for Tahiti, where we shall stop for a week or more while we load livestock and stores."

  My face must have betrayed my thoughts, for Christian shook his head. "My first thought," he went on, "was to leave you there, where sooner or later you might hope for a ship to take you home. But the men would have none of it, and I fear that they are right."

  He glanced at Churchill, who nodded, still standing with folded arms. "No, Mr. Byam," said the master-at-arms, "we had it out in the forecastle last night—a regular Dover-court. Not a man on the ship but wishes you well, but we can't allow it."

  "They are right," said Christian gloomily; "we can neither leave you on Tahiti nor let you set foot on shore. The men were for keeping the lot of you below decks, under guard, but I persuaded them that if you and Mr. Stewart and Mr. Morrison would give parole not to mention the mutiny to the Indians, nor to say anything which might prejudice our interests, we might safely permit you to come on deck while we are at anchor in Matavai."

  "I think I understand, sir," I replied, "though I must admit that we had hoped to be left in Tahiti, whither we supposed the ship to be bound."

  "Impossible!" Christian said. "I hate to carry you away against your will, but it is essential to the safety of your shipmates. None of us will ever see England again—we must make up our minds to that. You may tell the others that it is my intention to search out one of the many unknown islands in this sea, land our stores and livestock, destroy the ship, and settle there for good, hoping never again to see a strange white face."

  "Aye, Mr. Christian," put in Churchill approvingly. "It is the only way."

  Christian stood up, to notify me that the interview was at an end, and I went on deck with a sinking heart. With the fresh east wind abeam, the Bounty was sailing fast on the starboard tack, rolling slowly and regularly to the lift of the swell. I stood by the lee gangway, watching the blue water s
wirl past the ship's side, and striving to collect my thoughts. Stewart and I had often discussed in privacy our hopes and fears for the future, and now, unless we found means to escape during the ship's sojourn in Matavai, our hopes seemed destined to come to naught. It was true that the parole demanded of us, if we were to be allowed on deck, contained no mention of escape, but I had no doubt that we should be closely watched. And even if we were lucky enough to escape, I realized that the chances were a hundred to one we should be retaken. Christian would have invented some plausible tale to account for the absence of Bligh and the others, and, as captain of the ship, the chiefs would be on his side. For the reward of a musket or two, they would have the mountains and valleys of the interior scoured by men certain to find us, no matter how distant and secret our hiding-place. Our only chance—a slender one, indeed—would be to get possession of a fast sailing canoe and make for the islands to leeward of Tahiti, whither the authority of Teina and the other great chiefs of north Tahiti did not extend. Once there, even though Christian learned our destination and gave pursuit, we might be able to dodge from island to island till he wearied of the chase.

  To leave the ship under the eyes of the mutineers would be hard indeed; to set sail at once, in a fast and seaworthy canoe, watered and provisioned for a voyage across the open sea, would be harder still. Yet hardest of all was the thought of the alternative: "England—home, lost to us forever."

  As I stood by the gangway, deep in these disquieting reflections, Stewart touched my arm. "Look," he said; "they are throwing the plants overboard!" Directed by Young, a line of men had formed on the ladderway, and they were beginning to pass the pots from hand to hand. A man by the rail, aft, pulled up each young plant by the roots and flung it overboard, while others emptied the earth into the sea and carried the pots to the forehatch. We carried more than a thousand young breadfruit trees, all in flourishing condition, and now the Bounty left a wake of their rich green foliage tossing on the blue swell. They had been gathered and cared for with infinite pains; to obtain them we had suffered hardships, braved unknown seas, and sailed more than twenty-seven thousand miles, in fair weather and foul. And now the plants, eagerly awaited in the West Indies, were going overboard like so much unwanted ballast.

  "Waste!" remarked Stewart presently. "Futility and waste! And, like a good Scot, I hate both!"

  It was sad to reflect on the results of the expedition: the plants thrown overboard; Bligh and his companions probably drowned or killed by savages; the mutineers, desperate and unhappy, planning to hide away forever from the face of mankind; ourselves forced to share the same hard fate.

  Later, in the privacy of the berth, I told Stewart of my interview with Christian and of the gloomy prospect ahead of us. "We must tell Morrison as soon as possible," he said.

  He was silent for some time, his thin, bronzed face expressionless. At last he looked up. "At least I'll see Peggy."

  "That's certain, if you give your parole."

  "I'd give that, and more, for a glimpse of her!" He rose abruptly and began to pace back and forth nervously. I said nothing, and presently he went on in a low voice: "Forgive me for inflicting my thoughts on you—seamen are sentimental, and I have been long at sea. But Peggy might be the means of effecting our escape—I can think of no other."

  "That she might!" I exclaimed, for I had given the subject much anxious thought. "She could obtain a canoe for us—a favour we could ask of no other person in Matavai. Since we must give our parole we cannot make known the true state of affairs, nor why we desire to leave the ship. You will have to tell Peggy that we are planning to desert, as Churchill and the others deserted, in order to live among the Indians after the ship is gone. The chiefs alone own vessels large enough to take us to the Leeward Islands, and both Teina and Hitihiti feel themselves too much indebted to the friendship of King George to take part in what they would regard as a conspiracy against him. Peggy's father is under no such obligation."

  Stewart seated himself once more. His mind was quicker than my own, and he had perceived in an instant what had taken me some time to puzzle out.

  "Precisely," he said. "Peggy is our only chance. I could arrange everything in ten minutes alone with her. It must be on a night when the wind holds from the east. The canoe will be paddled past the ship as if outbound on one of their night passages to Tetiaroa, and her crew must make some disturbance which will draw the men of the watch to that side of the Bounty . We can then slip overboard on the other side and swim to Peggy's vessel, which will lie hove-to while they get sail on her. With good luck, no one will observe us in the dark."

  "By God, Stewart! I believe it can be done!"

  "Must be done, rather! Morrison and I are Navy men, and we have our careers to think of. But there have been many times when I have longed to stay here."

  On the evening of the fifth of June we raised the highlands of Tahiti, far ahead and ghostly among the clouds, and on the following afternoon we sailed into Matavai Bay and dropped anchor close to Point Venus. Every man on board had been instructed what to tell the Indians of his acquaintance who might make inquiries: at Aitutaki we had fallen in with Captain Cook, Bligh's father, who was forming an English settlement on that island. Bligh, Nelson, and others of the Bounty's crew had been taken aboard Cook's ship, and he had ordered the Bounty to leave the breadfruit plants with him, and return to Tahiti to trade for further stores and whatever livestock it might be possible to obtain. The ship was then to set sail in search of another island suitable for settlement.

  The Indians flocked out to the ship—Teina, Hitihiti, and the other chiefs curious to know why we had returned so soon and what had become of the absent members of the ship's company. The story invented by Christian satisfied them completely, and since he was popular—much more so than Bligh—the natives promised to furnish everything we desired, and the trading was friendly and brisk.

  I dined with Christian that evening; his sweetheart and old Hitihiti, my taio , were the other guests. With the girl—who would eat nothing—at his side, Christian seemed to have shaken off for the moment the sombre mood from which he had not emerged since the mutiny. He raised his glass and smiled at me across the table.

  "To our sweethearts," he said lightly. "You can drink to mine, Byam, since you have none of your own." Maimiti smiled gravely and touched the glass with her lips, but my taio drained his wine at a gulp.

  "Stop ashore my house, Byam," he said.

  I could feel Christian's eyes on me as I replied. "I'm sorry," I said; "but we shall be here only a few days, and Mr. Christian has informed me that I shall be needed on board."

  Hitihiti was evidently surprised at this. He turned to Christian, who nodded.

  "Yes," he said. "He will be needed on board during the whole time we are at anchor here." The old chief understood enough of discipline on a British ship to let the subject drop.

  Peggy had come on board during the afternoon, and when I went on deck after dinner I saw the couple seated by the mainmast, in the shadow of the pumps. Stewart's arm was about her waist and they were speaking together in the Indian tongue. When she had gone ashore, Stewart, Morrison, and I met by agreement on the main hatch. Young was the officer of the watch, and since we were at anchor and the night was calm, he had given his men permission to sleep on deck. He was a carefree, unsuspicious fellow, and now he lolled on the poop, his head turned toward the dark loom of the land. Taurua, his Indian sweetheart, kept the watch with him—a slender ghostly figure, shrouded in white tapa. The night was chilly, for it was winter in Tahiti, and Matavai Bay was a black mirror to reflect the stars.

  "I have talked with Peggy," said Stewart in a low voice, "and explained our determination to desert the ship. She thinks that I am leaving for her sake—a half-truth, at least. As for you two, she believes that you are enamoured of the Indian life, or of some of the young ladies on shore. Peggy will aid us with her whole heart. Unfortunately, the only large canoe her family possesses is at Tetiaroa. She wi
ll send a small vessel to fetch it to-morrow if the wind is fair."

  "Then let us pray for a fair wind," said Morrison seriously.

  "I wish we could take the others," I said.

  "There will be no chance of that," Morrison replied. "Christian means to keep them confined below till the ship sails."

  "In any case there would be too many," said Stewart. "Their very numbers would make escape impossible."

  Morrison shrugged his shoulders. "No—we can think only of ourselves. I have only one desire, one thought—to return to England. A ship will come, you may count on that, though we may have to wait two or three years for her. We shall have to be patient, that is all."

  "Patient?" Stewart remarked. "Well, I could put up with three years here—or with four or five! And Byam is a lover of the Indian life."

  "Damn the Indian life," said Morrison without a smile. "Who knows what wars are going on, what chances for prize-money and promotion we are missing!"

  I went to sleep with a light heart that night, for our escape seemed a certainty, and the prospect of a year or two among the Indians was far from displeasing. At dawn I saw Peggy's light double canoe, paddled by half-a-dozen stalwart fellows, set out for Tetiaroa, and all through the forenoon I watched every sign of the weather anxiously. Nature herself now took a hand against us. The day turned chilly and films of cloud began to stream seaward off the mountains. We were in the lee of the high land, and Matavai Bay remained still as a lake, but the wind had chopped around to the south and was blowing up one of the boisterous southerly storms the Indians call maraai . Gazing out to sea, I perceived the line of whitecaps at the end of the lee, and knew that as long as the south wind held, no canoe would even attempt to return from the island north of us.

  Day after day the strong south wind blew, while we traded for our strange cargo. Hogs, fowls, dogs, and cats came on board till the ship resembled a menagerie, and finally the bull and the cow left on Tahiti by Captain Cook. Goats skipped about comically on deck, among mounds of taro, sweet potatoes, and yams. And little by little our hope, which had run so high, began to change to fear. There were signs that Christian was nearly ready to sail, and Peggy's face, when she visited her lover on board, grew haggard with anxiety. I shall not dwell on our suspense. It is enough to say that on the ninth day the wind shifted to northeast and brought our sailing canoe in, four hours after the shift. This was at noon and all was arranged for our escape the same night, but now at the last moment fate turned against us once more. At two o'clock in the afternoon Christian ordered the anchor up and, close-hauled on the starboard tack, the Bounty sailed out of Matavai Bay.