Mutiny on the Bounty

by Peter Fitzsimons

  ‘Consider yourself still a prisoner!’14

  At Point Venus, Fletcher Christian and his party have no time to worry about the Bounty, as they too are engulfed in the huge waves that have burst into the usually tranquil bay. Like madmen, up to their knees in surging water, they scramble to get all the bread-fruit plants high enough that they are away from the salt water, which would kill them.

  It is a close-run thing.

  On the Bounty, Bligh is alarmed to see, paddling through the huge surf to get to them, King Tinah, Queen Iddeah, and an old Chief of Matavai by the name of Moannah … His alarm, however, is no match for their relief as they climb onto the ship and see that the Captain is still safe, as they take turns to embrace him, each crying and praying, thanking their Gods that he is unhurt. Tinah refuses to leave Bligh, and stays throughout the day, as does the ferocious storm.

  It rages on through the long night and Bligh realises he must change their base of operations, so that both the ship and the plants can be assured of safety during the monsoon season, which, he is assured, can deliver far worse storms than the one they have endured this night.

  When the weather clears, 30 hours later, a new harbour is found close by at Oparre – just three miles to the south-west of their previous anchorage – which is greeted with great relief by all, as their women remain nearby. Captain Bligh announces that they will move there at the end of the month.

  And at least Chief Poeeno is reassuring about what might happen if another storm damages the Bounty.

  ‘You shall live with me if the ship is lost,’ he tells Captain Bligh, ‘and we will cut down trees to build another to carry you to Pretanie.’15

  How very amusing. Cut down trees from this island and craft a vessel sturdy enough to sail to England? Bligh laughs heartily at the notion, for even he would find such a task impossible.

  In the meantime, a ten-year-old Tahitian lad is helping the sailors haul the storm-battered Launch onto the beach to be repaired when he slips and falls under it, and is crushed.

  Quickly, get the ship’s Surgeon! Where is Dr Huggan?

  Alas, alas …

  The Surgeon … was found incapable, from being drunk.16

  Bligh sends for Huggan’s assistant, Thomas Ledward, who delivers the good news that the lad will make a complete recovery. The same, however, cannot be said for Huggan, who continues on a long spiral downwards.

  In the last few weeks, he has barely stirred from his cabin, refusing Tom Ledward’s offer of coconut milk and accepting only liquor.

  Captain Bligh orders that he at least be removed from his cabin to get fresh air.

  It is done, but it is too late. For within an hour of being carried up on deck, Dr Huggan shuffles off his mortal coil.

  Bligh, while publicly mournful, at least the best he can muster, is privately scathing.

  This unfortunate man died owing to drunkenness and indolence …17

  When the news becomes known to the Natives the next day, there is a gasp of complete non-surprise from all. The Chiefs, particularly, on their visits to the Bounty, had seen enough of this shambling wreck of a man to give an instant summation that he had died due to ‘not working and drinking too much Ava no Pretanie’18, too much British grog.

  Dr Huggan is at least given a Christian burial in the afternoon, with Captain Bligh ministering, after which Tom Ledward is appointed Surgeon.

  The unspoken truth is that the death of the hopeless Huggan – whose only contribution was to drain the cellar – makes them stronger, not weaker.

  •

  No-one is more relieved than Fletcher Christian that the new safe harbour is only three miles from the first. Though he has only been with her for a short time, the thought of parting from Isabella is anathema. At least now, they should be able to have several more months together. And then?

  They will work that out when they get there.

  •

  As the hot, wet December days pass by, resentment against Captain Bligh from the ship’s company grows. The man has no feeling!

  Well, Charley Churchill has feeling, it is towards Captain Bligh and it is all bad. How long can he stand this …?

  What other Captain, in the history of the Royal Navy, has ever cancelled Christmas?

  Ever?!

  But that is what Captain Bligh does. Christmas, he decrees, will be celebrated on Sunday 28 December instead!

  Of course, it is all to do with his precious bread-fruit – shifting from Matavai Bay to Oparre is far more important than the birth of our Lord and Saviour. Every plant must be loaded onto the Bounty, and then, in the company of King Tinah, Queen Iddeah and various important Chiefs eager to experience the thrill of sailing in a British ship, the ship itself will move.

  In preparation, on Christmas Eve, Mr Fryer is dispatched to determine the depth of the passage. Several hours later, he returns with a favourable report: ‘16 and 17 fathoms Water and a good bottom all the way.’19

  Perfect! That gives 90 feet of safety below the Bounty’s keel. Still, Captain Bligh takes extra precautions and places Mr Christian as skipper of the Launch, to proceed just a hundred yards ahead of the Bounty and slowly guide it along Fryer’s course.

  As a final precaution, Mr Fryer is posted at the fore yard, an elevated position up the front mast of the Bounty, so that he may keep an eye out for any unforeseen dangers.

  A short time after they have weighed anchor on Christmas Day, and Captain Bligh has given the order to proceed slowly under topsails only, Mr Christian in the Launch, ‘instead of keeping ahead’, makes an unforgivable error and lets the Bounty get between him and the wind, which has, literally, ‘taken the wind out of his sails’, and seen him becalmed.

  ‘Reef the sails!’ roars Captain Bligh. ‘Drop the anchor!’20

  Sure enough, the Bounty suddenly comes to a stop. But not quite the one intended …

  For up runs Mr Fryer shouting that the ship has run aground! Bligh’s face turns that deep shade of purple the men easily recognise as pure rage.

  Somehow, in this simplest of exercises, with no less than the Tahitian Royals on board, he has run his boat aground, all because he has trusted his officers. Damn Mr Christian and his stationary Launch, damn Mr Fryer and his damn 17 fathoms. Captain Bligh is surrounded by fools and incompetent amateurs pretending to be sailors.

  The only thing that saves Mr Fryer and Mr Christian from vicious censure for the moment is the presence of honoured guests.

  And is that not the final humiliation?

  To get their Bounty off the coral, the once mighty Englishmen are reduced to having the Tahitians help them, hauling on the capstan after another anchor is suitably placed. After no little struggle, and luckily minimal damage, the Bounty is at last able to move into its new position, with the bread-fruit once more brought on shore into new premises, safe from the scorching sun and at a safe distance from the ocean’s roaring waves. And this time, to ensure there is no chance of the Bounty drifting onto the rocks – the Captain has had his fill – Bligh insists that the ship is held in place by a strong cable from each end being tethered to two strong trees on shore.

  Nothing, however, will save Mr Christian and Mr Fryer from Captain Bligh’s scorching tongue, as he excoriates them in front of the crew. The ship is saved, but the same cannot be said for the relationship between Bligh and his two key officers. And yet, while Mr Fryer takes it stoically enough – the lashing is fodder for his naturally lugubrious nature, just another thing that has gone wrong in a lifetime of things going wrong – the same cannot be said for Fletcher Christian. Yes, there had been an error, and yes, it may even have been his fault. But few men are without errors, and here is Captain Bligh publicly humiliating him? Christian can barely contain his rage.

  The Natives are not long in noting that where once the sounds coming from the Bounty visitors were music and laughter in the day, and much groaning in the night, there are now many raised voices, or rather one raised voice many times, that of Captain Bli
gh, who now finds fault with seemingly everything Titriano does.

  Alarmed, some of the Chiefs quietly say to Christian, ‘Titriano, Bry worrite beha’, Christian, Bligh is perhaps angry with you.

  ‘No, no,’21 Christian steadfastly maintains. Just a small misunderstanding.

  Later, however, in the otherwise quiet of the evening, with the likes of Peter Heywood and other officers, Fletcher Christian’s bitterness flows forth in full stream.

  ‘I would not regard the Captain’s cruelty in abusing me,’ says he, his brow slick with sweat, ‘if he would only do it in private, instead of doing it before the people of this country!’22

  As 1788 creeps towards 1789, Bligh’s public cruelty towards Christian intensifies. The Natives become ever more concerned for their friend, and confused. There is no doubt that Titriano is the most loved man on these islands, a favourite with Kings, with Chiefs, most certainly with the women, with men and children.

  Indeed, as James Morrison will observe, ‘They adored the very ground he trod on.’23

  Yet, for some reason, Bry now seems to hate Titriano, and is determined to humiliate him all the time. The worst of it? Bligh insults Christian behind his back, too, as the Acting Lieutenant now finds out.

  For one day in late December, Christian is approached by none other than Isabella’s father, a man who had been proud to be his tyo – bosom friend – because, like the Chief, Christian was an obviously powerful man. So close had they been that they had even exchanged names in the Tahitian custom.

  But now, no more!

  The Chief is disgusted with Christian for having tricked him into thinking he was a man of power. Tricked him into being tyo with a lowly servant! And his own daughter has lain with Christian!

  Fletcher Christian is confused. What on earth is the Chief talking about?

  The Chief explains.

  ‘I have dined today with Captain Bligh, and was told by him you are only his towtow, or servant.’

  Though mortified, Christian explains it away, telling the Chief that all of them, including ‘Captain Bligh, and all the officers, were towtows of the King of Pretanie.’24

  The Chief and Mr Christian are tyos again, but Captain Bligh and Mr Christian are more estranged than ever. Deeply angered by this needless humiliation, Christian still bites his tongue. But he will be damned if any man thinks him Bligh’s towtow.

  As it happens, Fletcher is merely one of the Bounty men who Bligh now seems to have a set against. In the last days of the year, both Able Seaman William Muspratt and cook Robert Lamb receive a dozen lashes, both for trifles.

  Oh, tread lightly, lads, for the Captain is watching us, judging us, looking for a reason to let the cat out of the bag – the cat o’ nine tails.

  5 January 1789, Matavai Bay, fugitives in the night

  It is time.

  ‘My watch, Mr Hayward,’ says John Fryer.

  ‘Your watch, Mr Fryer,’ the outgoing watch-keeper replies, before gratefully heading below deck to sleep.

  John Fryer does his usual circuit of the Bounty to ensure all is in order … when he discovers, it is not.

  The Cutter is missing from its usual spot on deck!

  After some frantic searching around the ship, as well as wild scanning around the moonlit water, the awful truth dawns. The Cutter has been stolen. With great reluctance, John Fryer rouses Captain Bligh who is up and on deck in a flash, supervising a roll call to quickly establish if any of his crew are missing.

  And they are.

  There is no sign of Charley Churchill, the ship’s Master-at-Arms, and two of the seamen, Muspratt and Millward. It is soon discovered that eight muskets, eight bayonets and eight cartridge boxes are also missing. Beyond that, nothing is known.

  Bligh asks the obvious question, first. Who was the Officer of the Watch when these men disappeared, and why did he not prevent it?

  The answers shock him. For it is Midshipman Thomas Hayward, and he had fallen asleep on duty.

  Hayward! Normally so dedicated, and so reliable – and yet it has happened on his watch. Bligh has no choice, and sharply orders him to be demoted to a mere Able Seaman and taken below and put in irons, until such times as the deserters are captured and brought back, whereupon they can take his place.

  But it is not just Hayward that Bligh is disgusted with. In his current disposition, it is his firm view that all of his ‘officers’ should be before the mast, as they are useless:

  Such neglectful and worthless Petty Officers I believe never was in a Ship as are in this – No Orders for a few hours together are obeyed by them, and their conduct in general is so bad, that no confidence or trust can be reposed in them – in short they have drove me to everything but Corporal punishment and that must follow if they do not improve.25

  As ever, to do what needs to be done, Bligh feels he has no choice but to do it himself. He goes to shore to consult with the Chiefs, sure that they will know the whereabouts of these rogues gone rogue.

  And of course, they do. The boat has been beached at Matavai, they tell him, near where the Bounty was previously anchored, and the fleeing crew-members were last seen in a sailing canoe, heading for the island of Tethuroa, some 30 miles to the north. As it turns out, even before Bligh can send men to the shore to retrieve the Cutter, five of the Natives bring it back to the ship. Now, for the men …

  From the first, Bligh makes his intentions clear to Tinah and the other assembled Chiefs.

  ‘I expect you will get the deserters brought back,’ Bligh remarks calmly but ominously. ‘I am determined not to leave Tahiti without them.’ Outou ite? You understand?

  Tinah assures Bligh all will be done: ‘Oreepyah and Moannah shall depart in the morning for Tethuroa.’26

  But Bligh senses something is not being done, that some knowledge is being hidden and he is quick to anger and accusation. He wants his MEN, dammit.

  ‘As you have always been my friends,’ he tells Tinah and the assembled Chiefs, ‘I expect you to show it in this instance. But unless you do I shall proceed with such violence as to make you repent it.’27

  Bry Waureddey! Bry Mow Etey! Matow! Bligh is angry! Bligh seizes pistol! Be afraid!

  The Chiefs promise to do their best, but still have one pertinent fear. Might Captain Bligh do to them what Toote did to Chief Tootaha, keeping him a prisoner on board until such time as the deserters are recovered?

  However they laughed when they asked this question, and I showed them they had no reason to fear … 28

  (Another lesson from Cook: trying to imprison Chiefs can end very badly indeed.)

  •

  Returning to the ship, Bligh orders a search of the absconders’ personal effects, which immediately turns up something very interesting indeed. For inside Churchill’s chest, a piece of paper is found on which is written Churchill’s own name, together with the names of three of the men in the shore party … including those of … Fletcher Christian and Peter Heywood.

  What on earth can the list be?

  Perhaps it is of those in the shore party who Churchill had thought might flee with them? But no, that could not be right, because the list includes the name of Fletcher Christian, and that is so out of the question as to be laughable. As a matter of fact, he and his second-in-command do have a laugh about it – a rare occurrence these days – when Captain Bligh visits the shore party that afternoon.

  Yes, Bligh upbraids some of those stationed on shore: ‘Are you in league with Churchill and intending to desert, too?!’29 he barks at them.

  But the Captain never seriously considers Fletcher Christian as being part of it, nor Peter Heywood. That is clearly some mistake. In any case, as James Morrison documents, when it comes to the shore party being confronted by Bligh’s charges, ‘They persisted in their innocence and denied it so firmly that he was inclined from circumstances to believe them and said no more to them about it.’30

  For the moment, they must wait to see if the Natives succeed in finding the deserters.
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  In the meantime, Bligh’s education in the ways of the Tahitians continues apace. Arriving on an unannounced visit to Tinah and Queen Iddeah on this morning, ‘I found [Iddeah] with a person, who although I was certain was a man, had great marks of effeminacy about him and created in me certain notions which I wished to find out if there were any foundation for.’31

  Delicately inquiring of Iddeah who, and what, this person is, Iddeah tells him the figure is from ‘a class of people common in Tahiti called Mahoo’.

  Do tell?

  Though the Mahoo is, genetically, a man, ‘the Men have frequent connections with him and he lives, observes the same ceremonies, and eats as the Women do’.32

  Bligh is fascinated.

  With such effeminacy, surely he is castrated? And is it that, in terms of these ‘connections’, he is … sodomised?

  So curious is he that Tinah quickly calls for a dozen Natives, including the Mahoo, to provide answers.

  The answers are shocking.

  ‘I was … mistaken in all my conjectures [about sodomy],’ Bligh records, ‘except that things equally disgusting were committed.’33

  How to put this?

  Well, it is not just the Mahoo who does these ‘equally disgusting’ things.

  ‘It is strange that in so prolific a country as this, Men should be led into such sensual and beastly acts of gratification, but perhaps no place in the world are they so common or so extraordinary as in this island. Even the mouths of women are not exempt from the pollution, and many other as uncommon ways have they of gratifying their beastly inclinations.’34

  Mahoo, Tinah explains, are selected at a young age and ‘kept with the women solely for the caresses of the men’.35

  Would Bligh like to look at Mahoo’s ‘connection’.36

  The offer evinces, aye, a Bligh sigh … but … yes … he would.

  He had the appearance of a woman, his Yard & Testicles being so drawn in under him, having the Art from custom of keeping them in this position; those who are connected with him have their beastly pleasures gratified between his thighs, but are no farther Sodomites as they all positively deny the Crime.37