by Graeme Lay
‘But why—’
‘He’s leaving the ship. And so are you!’ He ordered Quintal and Sumner, ‘Take Fryer back to his cabin!’
It was now seven-thirty. As Fletcher issued orders to his supporters, Bligh’s loyalists stood about dumbly. A few, notably Hayward and Hallett, were tearful. Fryer, now allowed on deck, looked like a dead man standing. Some of Fletcher’s supporters had not been issued with weapons, so were hard to define as his followers. Others had snatched up weapons in the excitement of the hour, without committing to the mutiny. Peter Heywood was one of these. He raced about the decks, waving a cutlass like a boy playing pirates.
Temporarily released from his bonds, Bligh pulled on his shirt, trousers and jacket, which had been brought up by his servant. Then, roped once again to the mast, he continued to stare about him in disbelief at what was happening.
Now that the boil had been lanced, the pus flowed. Relishing their newly won freedom of speech, the mutineers began taunting their deposed commander. ‘Shoot the bugger!’ Young shouted. ‘Blow his brains out!’ cried Churchill. ‘Now you try and live on our rations!’ Burkett yelled. ‘No more fiddling our rations!’ McCoy shouted. ‘Scrub the deck yerself now, you short-arsed bastard!’ Quintal bellowed.
Cole approached Fletcher on the mid-deck. He pleaded, ‘I beg you to stop this scheme, Christian. Before it’s too late.’
‘It’s already too late, Cole. You well know how the man has mistreated me.’
‘We all know it. But you must drop your plan.’
‘No. Bligh’s tyranny is finished.’
The boatswain put his face in his hands.
On the foredeck, preparations were being made to launch the smaller cutter. Purcell confirmed that it was indeed rotting at the keel. But so was the larger boat, he reported. ‘It will leak grievously,’ he said. He begged Fletcher, ‘We must use the launch instead.’
Fletcher gave this consideration. If the cutters weren’t seaworthy, it was the ship’s launch or nothing. He had no intention of committing murder, directly or indirectly. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Prepare to lower the launch.’
Eighteen men volunteered to go with Bligh in the launch, which was tied alongside the ship, starboard side. After Fryer and the other loyalists got down into it, it became low in the water. There were barely seven inches of freeboard. Yet armourer Coleman and carpenter’s mates Norman and McIntosh still pleaded with Fletcher to be allowed to go with their captain. He refused. ‘You’re staying with the ship,’ he told them. ‘Your skills are needed.’
Some supplies had to be taken aboard the launch. Cole and a few of the others had collected up bags of ship’s biscuit, a cask of water and some coconuts. Reluctantly Fletcher also allowed four cutlasses and some of Purcell’s woodworking tools to be taken into the launch. More food and some clothing was thrown down into the launch by the loyalists still on the Bounty.
Now came the turn of the man who just hours ago had been the commander. Fletcher led Bligh to the rail, prodding his side with his bayonet, resisting an urge to slide the steel between his ribs, having to again remind himself again that he must not commit murder.
At the rail, Fletcher untied Bligh’s wrists. ‘I must have a sextant,’ Bligh said. ‘And writing materials. My notebooks and journal. Is that too much to ask?’
Stripped of his authority and dignity, mocked and derided by many of his men, Bligh presented an ignominious figure. Fletcher felt a flash of compassion for the man. ‘Very well,’ he said, and told Martin to fetch what Bligh wanted.
When Martin returned with the sextant, books and writing materials, Bligh hugged them to his chest. Then he gave one last look at his captor, his mouth twisting into a sneer. Fletcher’s hatred for the man came rushing back, but he said nothing more.
Not so Bligh. He raised a fist defiantly. ‘You cannot hide, Christian,’ he said, his chest rising and falling. ‘We will find you. And after we do, you will hang like the common criminal you are.’
Fryer held out his hand to Bligh and he took a seat in the stern of the launch. Standing at the rail of Bounty, verging on tears, were loyalists Coleman, McIntosh and Norman. Fiddler Byrne was weeping, aware that there was no place for an almost blind man in a boat cast adrift. Coleman shouted down to Bligh, ‘Remember, sir, I had no part in this hideous business!’
Looking up at them, Bligh yelled back, ‘Never fear, my lads, I know you can’t all come with me. I know which of you have not followed the mutineer Christian. And I’ll do you justice if ever I reach England!’
There were now nineteen men in the launch and twenty-five aboard the ship. Fletcher cast its line off and the launch slipped sternward. On Bounty’s after deck, Young broke into a Tahitian dance, waving his arms, gyrating his hips and whooping with joy. Churchill, McCoy and Alex Smith were grinning like mad men as they swigged the grog ration that Fletcher had rewarded them with. They began to shout, ‘Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah for Tahiti!’
The Bligh loyalists on board stood about in mute uncertainty, staring at the departing launch, not knowing where they would now be taken or what their fate would be.
In the launch, six men picked up the oars and began to row the overladen vessel. From Bounty’s decks they watched its solitary sail being raised. It caught the breeze. Then, with Bligh gripping the tiller, it turned and headed in the direction of Tofua, fifteen miles to the east.
Fletcher stood on the quarterdeck, watching the launch grow smaller. He had given Ellison the helm and told him to take a southeasterly course. The sun was high now, the wind a steady five knots. To larboard the islands of Kao and Tofua were fading into the mist and the launch was disappearing then appearing among the swells.
The breadfruit plants were tossed out Bounty’s stern windows, accompanied by shouts of glee from the throwers, among them gardener Brown. From the taffrail Fletcher watched the pots floating briefly in the wake, their foliage waving in the wind before they sank into the sea. The great breadfruit transplantation scheme was over.
We will now be able to claim the Great Cabin’s space, Fletcher realised. And he wondered, what else can we claim?
Map Two
Part Four
THE RETURN
30 April 1789
After a break of several days, I am able to resume my journal writing.
I now command the Bounty, with a crew of twenty-four men under my authority. Although the sense of freedom I feel is uppermost in my mind, I am also aware that not all the crew are my followers. So my first task is to make it clear that I bear no grudge against those who did not join my rebellion. Men such as Coleman, McIntosh, Norman, Heywood, Morrison, Stewart and Byrne did not take action against Bligh, and that was their right. But neither did they suffer at his hands to the extent that I did.
Nevertheless my first duty as new commander is to instil unity into my crew, however disunited they may be. Since the ship is short-handed we must all work together to sail her. Accordingly, I have appointed Stewart as my second in command. Although a Bligh loyalist and hence not popular among my followers, the Orkney Islander is a consummate seaman. There was agitation to appoint Heywood to the role of second-in-command, but at seventeen I judged him to be far too young. Peter is but a boy, albeit a very bright one.
Order and discipline will be paramount from now on. I am conscious of the fact that our circumstances are unique. Although we are free of naval authority, from now on we must institute and maintain our own regime. We cannot hope to survive without being cohesive in our intent. This I stressed to the crew when they assembled yesterday. I told them firmly, ‘It will be futile if, having overthrown one tyrannical regime, we find ourselves oppressed by another.’ We also need to impress the natives we encounter, to show them we are not a rabble. To this end I have instructed that we will wear a uniform of sorts, cut and stitched from Bounty’s old studding sails. I will donate my officer’s uniform so that it can be cut up for edging this garb in blue. Muspratt has skills as a tailor, so he will be busy fr
om now on with the sailmaker’s shears, needle and thread. Also, Bounty’s two cutters are being repaired, as we will have great need of them.
Although the mood aboard is buoyant and I am exhilarated from my newly won freedom, I am aware that factions still exist onboard and may emerge, to our detriment. Hence it is imperative that we find a safe haven as soon as possible, so that we can establish a shore-based settlement somewhere in this South Sea, one with activities of such benefits that they will forestall another insurrection.
I have moved myself into Bligh’s cabin and given my own to Stewart. The Great Cabin is now given over to the stowage of the many artefacts the crew traded for at Nomuka, so that rather than resembling a greenhouse, it is now more like a London museum. My new berth contains many charts and journals of previous voyages, a resource which will be invaluable to us. Among these was the account of Captain Cook’s third voyage, edited by Lieutenant James King. When perusing this I came upon this 1777 entry, while Cook was en route for Tahiti:
‘ . . . in the morning of 8th of August land was seen bearing NNE½E 9 or 10 leagues distant. At first it appeared in detached hills like so many islands but as we drew nearer we found they were all on one and the same island. I steered directly for it with a fine gale . . . at day break the next Morning I steered for the NW, or lee side of the island, which we soon perceived to be guarded on every side by a reef of Coral rock which in some places extended a full mile from the land.’
Although Cook made no landing on this island, he established that its coordinates are 23° South and 210° East. As such it lies just north of the Tropic of Capricorn. From some natives who came out to his ship in canoes, Cook learned that its name is Tupuai. Although his ships Resolution and Discovery did not enter the lagoon, he left a useful description of the island. The men in the canoes
‘ . . . kept pointing to the shore and told us to go there. This we could very well have done as there was good anchorage without the reef and a break or opening in it, in which if there was not water for the Ships, there was more than sufficient for the boats, but I did not think proper to risk losing the advantage of a fair wind for the sake of examining an island that appeared of little consequence.’
So Cook’s two ships sailed away.
Three hundred and fifty miles south of Tahiti, Tupuai resembles, from Cook’s account, a smaller version of it, being encircled by a coral reef and well wooded, though less elevated. Since it was found by Cook to be inhabited it is probable that it also has sources of fresh water. Coconuts, breadfruit and fish too, most likely. I determined that this Tupuai may well be an island that has much to offer us as a place of refuge. Almost certainly it will be safer than Tahiti. As such, it will not be ‘of little consequence’ to us.
Although my thoughts are mainly with the day-to-day sailing of Bounty, I cannot help dwelling on Bligh and his followers in the launch. Will they survive? Will they find us? I very much doubt either eventuality. It is my belief that Bligh will take the launch first back to Tofua for provisioning, and thence south to the island of Tongatapu, where he spent time with Cook in ’77. He became well acquainted with the chiefs there, he often boasted to me. Thus he will doubtless attempt to gain favour from them. But it is also my belief that he will not be able to leave that island, since there is no European outpost within reach of the launch. Instead he will have to wait for the arrival of the next European ship to visit Tongatapu, and that may not happen for years. Consequently no account of my insurrection can reach the Admiralty authorities for years. Thus we of the Bounty are free to choose whichever island we seek for a sanctuary, commencing with the island of Tupuai, towards which we are now headed. Once established there, we will return briefly to Tahiti to collect our lovers, then return to Tupuai to live. We cannot tarry on Tahiti. Other European vessels are bound to visit the island from now on, and these would alert the naval authorities to our presence should we stay. However we must return, albeit briefly. Young, McCoy, Quintal, Brown and Heywood have all told me how important it is to them to be reunited with their women, an emotion which I well understand. I too cannot wait to be with Isabella again, and to let her know that it is now possible for us to live together as man and wife.
While having supper with Stewart last evening, he asked me, ‘Do you have any regrets about what has happened, Christian?’
I replied without hesitation, ‘I do not. My life had become intolerable under Bligh. I could not endure many more months of his maltreatment. The course of action I took, I had to take.’
Although Stewart nodded, I could tell that he could not truly comprehend the depths of the despair I had felt these past weeks. What other course could I have taken, except self-murder? And at twenty-four years of age, and knowing that there is a wonderful woman who loves me, I have much to live for. Hence the new course I have taken.
Having declared that, I also admit that I carry Bligh’s pistol, primed, under my belt at all times.
FC
28 MAY 1789
‘Land! Land to starboard!’
The call came from Heywood, at the mainmast head. Half an hour later the island of Tupuai became visible from the decks. The crew stared at the new island. Under a cloudless sky they could see in its interior two forested hills, three or four miles apart, streaked with lesions of bare earth. A few miles ahead waves were breaking on the reef, and along the shoreline were white sand beaches, overlooked by coconut palms. The crew speculated about the island. Could they get through the reef? Would there be threatening natives? Would they have seen Europeans before? What would their women be like?
Spyglass to his eye, Fletcher ordered the helmsmen to steer for the north-west coast, where Cook had noted there was a passage. A mile or so off the island, Fletcher told Stewart, ‘Go in the cutter and sound the pass. See if it’s suitable for us to enter.’
Bounty hove to while Stewart, rowed by four men, entered the pass. In his belt he carried a pair of loaded pistols. As he put down a lead-line, those on the ship saw a canoe put off from the shore. To his alarm Fletcher saw that it contained several men armed with spears, and that it was being paddled at speed towards the cutter.
When they reached it a native leapt into the boat and tried to grab one of the sailor’s jackets. Stewart stood up, waved his pistol, then fired it into the air. There was a puff of smoke and at the percussion the man took fright and jumped back into the canoe, which was paddled back to the shore.
Stewart returned to the ship. ‘They are not well disposed towards us,’ he told Fletcher. ‘But they were fearful of my pistols.’
‘And the pass?’
‘Twelve fathoms, with a sandy bottom. It will admit Bounty to the lagoon. But we must be armed when we enter.’
Cautiously they worked the ship through the pass and into the lagoon. Several of the crew stood in the bow, primed muskets at the ready. Bounty’s anchor was lowered off a small bay. Standing on the beach watching the ship were warriors in bark cloth skirts, armed with spears and clubs.
Canoes put out and surrounded Bounty, the men in them waving the spears and clubs. Fletcher called down in Tahitian from the mid-deck rail. ‘Ia ora na! Ia ora na! Maeva! Maeva!’ He made beckoning gestures to the men.
Although they seemed to understand, they refused his invitation to come aboard. Some brandished their spears.
Young said to Fletcher, ‘Why are they so hostile, do you suppose?’
‘They are mistrustful of our weapons. They probably have memories of when some of Cook’s men came here from Raiatea.’
‘Why?’
‘They were seeking two deserters from Discovery. I read of it last evening in Cook’s journal. His sailors were armed, and although the deserters were recaptured, in the process some warriors from this island were killed by musket fire.’
‘Ah. Then what shall we do?’
‘Wait for their leaders to arrive, then shower them with gifts. Show them that we mean no harm.’ He paused. ‘We need this island, Ned.’
; The next morning another canoe came out, bearing an elderly man. He climbed aboard. Grey hair tied in a topknot, he had tattooed upper arms. Fletcher greeted him on the main deck. The man touched his chest. ‘Mahana,’ he said. ‘Ra’atira. To’erauetoru.’
Relieved that contact had been established, Fletcher presented him with a hatchet and a spike nail. The man nodded, pleased, but at the same time stared in astonishment at the penned pigs and goats on the deck. Obviously his island did not have these animals. He pointed back at the shore, then at himself, indicating that he would soon return with others. But his eyes also followed the men on deck. As he got back into his canoe, Churchill said to Fletcher, ‘Did you notice the old bugger checking the crew? I reckon he was counting heads.’
‘I did. Put the men on full alert when he comes back. He won’t be alone.’
He wasn’t. But rather than returning with male warriors, Mahana’s double-hulled canoe was occupied by eighteen women and six men. They climbed aboard. The women were all young, with glossy hair which reached their waists and did not cover their breasts. They wore skirts of white cloth and coloured flowers woven into their hair.
The crew stared, mouths agape, at the women, who beamed at the sailors and chanted melodiously. As the men made to move towards them, Fletcher called out. ‘No! Stay there! Look!’
He pointed towards the lagoon, where dozens of canoes were streaming out to Bounty, filled with men. It was obvious that the beauties were a diversion. He called down to Churchill:
‘Arm the crew!’
As the men took up arms, the young women looked as disappointed as the sailors. Minutes later the native men climbed aboard, then immediately began helping themselves to anything not bolted to the decks: boat hooks, lead-lines, grapnels, belaying pins, fishing lines.
Fletcher waded into the mob, shouting ‘Aita! Aita! No! No!’ He began to snatch back what they were attempting to seize. Other crew members did the same. A boy ran up onto the quarterdeck and snatched the compass from beside the ship’s wheel.