Mutiny on the Bounty

by Peter Fitzsimons

  It was evident that the attention which I showed to these chiefs seemed to give uneasiness to Tinah.56

  Which, in the end, might be useful.

  But now to fun!

  As the sun goes down, it is decided to hold a race between the Bounty’s Cutter with six oars, and the Natives’ fastest double-canoe with four paddles. The double-canoes are extraordinary vessels, two canoes side by side, joined together, often with flat platforms between to carry many people.

  A laughing, roaring, Fletcher Christian commands the Cutter, and with both the crew-members on the Bounty and the large crowd of Natives on the shore cheering themselves hoarse, the two racing vessels match each other stroke for stroke for stroke until right at the end … the Cutter pulls ahead and reaches the shore first!

  Both sets of rowers warmly congratulate each other in the soft red glow of the falling sun. Before the Bounty boys can head back to the ship, however, Prince Oreepyah delays them momentarily, until ‘a large piece of cloth that he had sent for was brought … which he tied to the boat-hook and desired should be carried off as a trophy of their victory’.57

  As the Bounty lads start to – much more slowly this time – row back, it is to the sound of the ‘vast shouts of applause’ that are ‘given by everyone on shore’.58

  Whatever the result of the race, the Tahitians’ ability to move their canoes through the water is impressive. And yet there is something in this surf that is more impressive still. For the Natives have a favourite sport that soaks up hours of their time when the surf is high. It requires them taking flat pieces of wood, roughly the height and width of a man, out into the waves. The Bounty men call these pieces of wood ‘paddles’, because to get them moving through the waves, the Natives lie flat on them, and use their hands on either side to paddle forth.

  The general plan of this diversion is for a number of them to advance with their paddles to where the Sea begins to break and placing the broad part under the Belly holding the other and with their arms extended at full length, they turn themselves to the surge and balancing themselves on the Paddle are carried to the shore with the greatest rapidity.59

  Oh, the joy of the Natives, as once they are out to the point where the waves crest, they turn their paddles, catch the breaking wave and stand on their paddles, being carried by the surf towards the shore! The best of them can even manoeuvre the paddles back into the wave, sometimes going a little up the face of it, before coming back down.

  The delight they take in this amusement is beyond any thing …60

  Those who are the best at it almost form a group apart within the Natives, as this sport becomes their principal joy and they seem always to be doing one of two things – paddling, or wishing they could be out there paddling.

  •

  All is now in place for Bligh to begin his plan to gain the bread-fruit. He visits Tinah and tells him of his intent to take the Bounty to other parts of Tahiti, to visit other Chiefs.

  Tinah’s face falls. He is the most important Chief. So why not stay here? Tinah pleads with Bligh not to leave Matavai Bay.

  ‘Here,’ says Tinah, ‘you shall be supplied plentifully with everything you want. All here are your friends and friends of King George: if you go to the other islands you will have everything stolen from you.’

  Bligh is not so sure of that, but, seeing as you raise the subject of King George, there is something that occurs to him …

  ‘King George sent out those valuable presents to you, and will not you, Tinah, send something to King George in return?’61

  ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘I will send him anything I have …’

  Tinah then reels off all the different articles he might send, including bark-cloth to make pareo, red bird feathers, bread-fruit trees, hogs in abundance, some carvings, any amount of plantains or yams …

  Bligh pauses, and theatrically thinks for a moment.

  The bread-fruit, you say?

  Well now, that is interesting.

  ‘The bread-fruit trees are what King George would like,’ Bligh says carefully, as if it has just occurred to him for the first time. And if he could get say, a thousand saplings on the ship, right here, he would have no reason to take the Bounty to any other part of the islands.

  ‘I promise you,’ Tinah replies, ‘you can have as many as you can put on board.’62

  Perfect!

  Tinah, as Bligh notes, seems ‘much delighted to find it so easily in his power to send anything that would be well received by King George’.63

  Very well then, that is very kind, Tinah. And Bligh, in turn, reluctantly agrees to keep the Bounty anchored exactly where it is, and not go to visit the other Chiefs.

  It really is a breakthrough, as it means their bread-fruit mission may now be carried out in the open, and with the help of the Tahitians themselves – no small thing when there will be so much work to do to dig out the saplings, being careful not to break the roots, and place them all, with a good fistful of soil, in the pots. After that they will need to constantly water the plants, to nurture them and have them grow larger and sturdier in their pots – with the roots coming through holes in the bottom – before placing them in wheelbarrows and getting them down to the seashore, rowing them to the Bounty, getting them on board, and settling them into their allotted and fitted-out spots in the Great Cabin, above the lead-lined floor that will catch whatever water drips through and reticulate it. Yes, the whole thing is an extraordinarily draining operation.

  What is not draining for the men after the daily duty is done, however, is spending time in this blessed paradise of Tahiti. Bligh decrees that while all must be back by nightfall, they are otherwise free to be on shore, if they are not on watch. The reverse applies to Tahitian males, as unless given permission by Bligh – usually to a Royal male – they must still leave the ship at nightfall. Tahitian women, Royal or common, however, may stay through the day, and, most particularly, stay through the night. This is not generosity on Bligh’s part, but recognition of the facts of life. If he did not allow this, he would risk men deserting every night.

  Still, with plants to be grown on shore, there is clearly going to be need for a shore party to base themselves permanently on shore to supervise these precious seeds and saplings, and to protect them – and it is consequently with bated breath that the Bounty men wait to see who Bligh will favour to actually live in this paradise, rather than just be granted day leave to visit it.

  But now Bligh must pay a key courtesy call. For, as he has been told from the beginning, though Tinah still exercises all the power, he is only the Regent King. The real King, the holy one, is his son Otoo, the Earee Rahie King Tu, who – it is explained to the stupefied Bligh – has lived an extraordinary existence since birth.

  Like all new Kings, the divine one was taken from his parents at birth, and raised in his own house, on sacred land. As all Tahitians know, everything he touches also becomes sacred, and owned by him. Just the single touch of his hand on the leaf of a tree means the tree will belong to him, forever. It means he is, in essence, such a contagious King Midas he must be kept separate from his subjects and their possessions. Even more extraordinary? To prevent his feet ever touching something so base as the ground, he is carried everywhere by a succession of manservants, human cabs that convey him wherever he wishes. For the alternative, of course, would be problematic. Just one touch of his foot on anyone else’s land, and it would become sacred to the King, and forbidden to all others. And so he must live, with his younger siblings, in splendid isolation. Much of it is explained to Bligh by Tinah as they walk to the fare, the house where the young King lives. Despite having lived the same existence when he was young, and despite the fact he is speaking about his own son, Tinah speaks of Otoo, the Earee Rahie, with a reverential awe. They are about to visit a God on earth.

  Now, one thing, Bry, just before we get there.

  ‘No person can see my son that is covered above the shoulders,’64 Tinah says, as he motions for Bligh to
stop. Bligh looks sceptical and uncomfortable so Tinah continues to explain and to demonstrate.

  ‘I must do it myself, also my wife. So, you will,’65 says Tinah as he disrobes and stands expectantly bare-chested before Bligh.

  …

  …

  Take off his upper garments? In broad daylight?

  Besides being undignified, it occurs to Bligh that ‘I risked my health in being exposed in such a manner to a burning heat’.66 Bligh is lily white and determined to remain that way. His gift may proceed, but the Captain of the Bounty will not.

  ‘Tinah,’ the Captain says to the King, ‘if I cannot see your son upon any other conditions, I will leave my present with my best wishes to him.’67 Tinah is clearly displeased, and Bligh seeks a quick compromise. He will remove an upper garment, the most upper of garments, his hat. As he removes his hat, and says to Tinah, ‘I have no objection to go as I would to my own king, who is the greatest in all the world …’68

  Now it is Tinah who pauses. Very well then. Taking a piece of cloth, he drapes it over Bligh’s shoulders, as an added sign of his respect, and they proceed. A quarter of a mile onwards, walking through the delightfully dappled light thrown by the bread-fruit trees, they stop by the side of a small serpentine river, on the other side of which they can see, about 50 yards away, a grand house.

  Silently, they wait.

  And there he is!

  From the house now comes the young King, clothed in fine white cloth, serene and silent, carried forth on the shoulders of a servant whose broad feet seem to glide over the ground. Bligh salutes the boy King, addressing him as Tinah has advised: ‘Too Earee Rahie,’ he calls, ‘I bring you gifts.’

  On the ground before him, Bligh lays out the finest shiny trinkets he has brought from England. The King looks at them from on high with delight.

  A messenger from the other side of the river soon arrives and kneels to collect the gifts in a piece of cloth. Following Tinah’s word-for-word instruction, Bligh tells the man in Tahitian: ‘It is for the Earee Rahie. I am his tyo. I hate thieves. I come from Britannia.’69

  The messenger departs.

  In a similar manner, but with different names, Bligh offers presents to the King’s two younger siblings.

  Still stunned by the exoticness of it all, Bligh strains to see the boy King more clearly and even asks Tinah if he might cross the river to get a better look.

  What?

  Cross the river?

  See the King from close?

  Bligh might as well have asked if he could be granted an audience.

  The answer is aima!

  NO.

  The land on that side of the river is sacred and he may not step upon it. So, at a distance, Bligh bids farewell to Tu and his two younger siblings, all living in this strange separate palace far from parental care.

  Bligh returns to the Bounty, quite amazed at the strange beliefs of this people.

  For himself, he is quite confident that a woman made out of a rib took an apple courtesy of the evil of a talking snake, and that is where all the trouble started.

  1 November 1788, Point Venus, bread of life

  On this very morning, Bligh and the botanist, Nelson, are off to inspect Point Venus – a flat, open area where the Transit of Venus was observed by Captain Cook in 1769 – which they have been told will provide the best land on the island to grow hundreds of bread-fruit plants. The landscape is flat, the soil more than usually fertile, even by Tahiti standards, and there is a stream running through it to provide plenty of fresh water.

  One look, and Bligh is convinced it is indeed perfect for his purposes.

  Captain Bligh’s schedule will now be dictated by the growth of the plants.

  Nelson’s central idea is to transplant the precious bread-fruit root suckers – he selects promising-looking shoots growing from the roots of existing, healthy plants and carefully excises them, along with some of the root, before transplanting them – in a thousand pots filled with rich soil to Point Venus, the whole lot cared for in a large tent made from canvas and sails, a ‘greenhouse’ to protect them from the elements. Only when the tiny trees have achieved a little hardy maturity – something that should take several months – will they be taken in their pots to the Bounty.

  Who to put in charge of this important operation? Nelson will provide the horticultural know-how, but has no authority, no rank, to give orders to the Bounty men, nor stature to command the Tahitians.

  Of course, there can only be one man to do it, Fletcher Christian, who has admittedly been scarce of late. Since meeting Isabella, he has spent every hour he can with her, which has meant only spasmodically, and seemingly reluctantly, returning to the ship. A puzzled Bligh believes that giving Fletcher an important task like this will surely be good for him, refocus this fine young man on the fact that they actually have an important mission to fulfil, and he is to be put at the pointy end of seeing it done. And, of course, Christian could not be more enthusiastic about accepting his new assignment. It means he will live on the island, work on the island, sleep on the island, be with Isabella on the island the whole time. He can ask no better than that. And yes, look after the bread-fruit, Captain, very good, Captain. Yes, and of course he also picks his dear friend, Peter Heywood, who has also been enjoying himself more than somewhat in Tahiti and is eager for the task for the same reasons as Fletcher. They will be free Young Gentlemen on this glorious isle, free from the envious eye and caustic tongue of Bligh.

  Filling out the shore party is William Peckover – who, with his grasp of the language and customs, is invaluable – the two botanists, David Nelson and Billy Brown, and a rotation of four armed sailors.

  And so it begins.

  At dawn – a week after arriving at Tahiti – Christian, with his selected group, is dispatched to Point Venus, where they must begin by erecting a tent, both as a nursery for the plants, and as a place for the shore party of sailors to sleep. By the time that Bligh himself arrives, in the company of Tinah, and his fellow Chiefs of Matavai, Moannah and Poeeno, the tent is up. With the consent now of the Tahitian Royals, Bligh marches out the boundary of their new plantation, which soon has ropes and stakes put around it, and the Chiefs comply with Bligh by giving an order that none of the Natives ‘are to enter without leave’.70

  Bligh could not be more pleased with the beginning made and his own cleverness.

  ‘I had now, instead of appearing to receive a favour, brought the chiefs to believe that I was doing them a kindness in carrying the plants as a present from them to the Earee Rahie no Pretanie [The King of England].’71

  That evening, men of the Bounty sleep in the tent, few of them unaccompanied, and least of all Christian, who is able to be with Isabella here far more comfortably than he had been on the ship.

  After such a good beginning, Bligh invites Tinah to return to the Bounty with him that evening to dine. And it goes well, bar one thing.

  Without his attendants, there is only one person who can bring the food and wine to Tinah’s mouth – that is, Captain William Bligh. It does not sit easily, but Tinah insists – he has never done it himself, and it is not right that he should do so.

  So, even as Christian dines with the delectable Isabella in his spacious Point Venus tent, Bligh must feed and water – as to a baby – a grown man on the Bounty.

  And yet, after dinner, things become more interesting as, at Tinah’s insistence, Bligh returns to the shore once more and is taken to visit another sacred, and rarely seen, institution of Tahiti. In a large compound, situated at Tautira, he meets the elite, revered society of the ‘Arreoys’, the Tahitian warrior class – instantly identifiable by their notably muscular form, and for the tata’u, tattoo of a star, on their left breast – who in wartime must fight all battles, while in peacetime may enjoy all the sensual spoils that their fair islands, and fairer still maidens, can offer. They have no work to do at all, bar prepare for battle. When those battles take place, usually with other tribes, o
n matters of territorial disputes, they are expected to sacrifice their lives, if necessary, to achieve victory. They are to battles what priests are to religion. Their entire lives are consumed by it.

  The Arreoys are highly respected and … the society is chiefly composed of men distinguished by their valour or some other merit … Great trust and confidence is reposed in them … The Arreoys are allowed great latitude in their amours except in times of danger. Then as they are almost all fighting men (tata toa) they are restricted that they may not weaken or enervate themselves.72

  Tinah explains something of their lives, and one practice in particular horrifies Bligh – just as it had shocked Sir Joseph Banks. Yes, Tinah says, matter-of-factly, all of the newborn babies of the Arreoys are strangled at birth. No heirs for them, no child to take their mantle, nothing to distract them from their duty to be ready to fight.

  In his private journal – for Bligh vows to himself that this grisly practice shall remain secret, he has little doubt that the British public will have no stomach for such a horror – Bligh adds more grisly specifics:

  The Infant is strangled by the person who receives it the moment it is born, and from their representing the Act, it appears to me they break its Neck by a twist as is the common way of killing a Fowl.73

  Bligh’s revulsion for certain Tahitian ways does not stop there. One that runs institutionalised infanticide close is the brewing of their alcoholic drink, kava. ‘The operation of making it,’ he records, ‘is as filthy as the use of it is pernicious. This kava is made from a Strong pungent root which few Chiefs ever go without – it is chewed by their servants in large mouthfuls at a time, which when it has collected a sufficiency of saliva is taken and put into a Cocoa nut shell. This is repeated until there is enough chewed – it is then squeezed and given to the principal Men, each of them taking nearly a pint wine measure.’