by John Boyne
‘Yes, sir,’ said Mr Fryer, an obvious tone of dissatisfaction in his voice. ‘As you say.’
‘As I say, indeed, sir,’ snapped Mr Bligh. ‘And you, Mr Christian, you will keep your men at the nursery on a tight leash from now on and see that every man pulls his weight, but there will be no more nocturnal fraternizing with . . . with . . .’
‘With whom, sir?’ asked Mr Christian.
‘With the savages,’ he replied.
At this his body bent over halfway with the pain of it and he was forced to run back to the hut again, leaving Mr Christian, Mr Fryer and me standing in his wake, filled with a mixture of amazement, dismay and wonder.
‘What say you to that?’ asked Mr Fryer.
Mr Christian sucked in his breath and shook his head. ‘Not easy to tell them,’ he replied. ‘There’ll be a lot of unhappy sailors, I can promise you that.’
‘Perhaps if we speak to him later? Or if you do, Fletcher. He listens to you.’
I knew that Mr Fryer was right, but knew even better that the chances of Mr Christian attempting to change the captain’s mind in order to improve the lot of the common sailing man was about as likely as wings appearing out of my shoulder-blades and my flying off to a land where there was plenty to eat and drink and Kaikala was by my side, hoping to pleasure me every hour on the hour from now until the Saviour called us home.
‘I don’t know, John,’ said Mr Christian. ‘Have you ever considered that—’ At this he turned and saw me standing there and hesitated. ‘Turnip, what the devil do you think you’re doing?’
‘I thought the captain was coming back, sir,’ said I, all innocence.
‘I think he’s gone for now,’ he replied. ‘Go after him. He might need your help.’
The last place I wanted to be was back in that hut, but I followed reluctantly and the captain was not in sight; he was locked in the privy again.
And that is the story of how a case of the squits led to an ill-considered decision, which in turn laid the first seeds of discontent for the mountain of trouble that was to follow. Had I known then what lay ahead, I would have mixed into the captain’s tea a little nutmeg and olive extract the night before, as everyone knows the good that does for the stomach and the manner in which it keeps the squits at bay.
30
THAT WAS THE START OF it. The captain’s personality began to alter something terrible during the weeks that followed and I started to suspect that the heat on the island was playing games with his mind, for the good-humoured and kindly man I had known on board the Bounty became irritable and prone to outbursts against all.
Mr Fryer, observing me having the head practically lifted from my shoulders over a small trifle one evening, took me aside and earned my eternal gratitude by asking after my well-being, a question that had barely been put to me once in my life, let alone since joining that shoddy crew.
‘I’m extremely well,’ said I, lying through my teeth. ‘Here I am, a lad on a tropical island with the sun on my face and my belly full. What should I have to complain about?’
Mr Fryer smiled and for a moment I was afraid that he was going to embrace me. ‘You’re a good lad, Master Turnstile,’ he replied. ‘You care a lot for the captain, do you not?’
I thought about it and considered my reply carefully. ‘He’s been good to me,’ I admitted. ‘You don’t know the kind of men I had to deal with before him.’
‘Then, let me encourage you not to take it to heart when he scolds you,’ he said. Scolding was a good word for it! A few minutes earlier I had brought him his tea and forgot the lemon and I swear that he was ready to reach for his cutlass. ‘The thing about men like Mr Bligh,’ continued Mr Fryer, ‘is that they are primarily sea-faring men. When the land beneath their feet is solid, when the tides do not surround them, when the smell of salt water is not in their nostrils, they become irritable and likely to abuse. It is both a rational and irrational fancy and I would encourage you to think nothing of it. What I’m saying, Turnip, is you would be wise not to take it personally.’
There was another possibility to it. There were only two men, as far as I could tell, from the crew of the Bounty who had yet to taste the offerings of the native women. One of them was Captain Bligh, who kept his portrait of Betsey close by at all times and who, unlike the other married men of the crew, even the quality ones as were officers, appeared to take as sanctity the vows he had made on his wedding day. I began to wonder whether a juicy dalliance or two would not improve his mood somewhat; I know it would have done wonders for mine. For I, of course, was the other person who remained untouched.
I heeded Mr Fryer’s advice, nevertheless, and appreciated his offering of it. A year before, when we had first met, I had often thought him a difficult fellow to get to know. He had a way about him, mostly in the mutton of his chops and that long horse-like face of his, that made a fellow want to avoid him. But he was a kindly soul. Thoughtful to the men and attentive to his duties. And I liked him for it. Unlike that prancing popinjay Mr Christian, who spent more time addressing his own features in a glass than considering the men who toiled around him.
When I returned to the captain’s hut from Mr Fryer’s talk, he invited me to inform all the crew, officers and men alike, that they were to gather on board the Bounty that evening as he wished to address them as a group and in private. I had half a notion to ask him to take me into his confidence in advance to ascertain what it was he wished to discuss with us, but I feared that to do so would have seen me scalped and skinned before I even reached the end of my sentence.
And so I did as he asked and at seven bells that evening the entire complement of the Bounty were gathered on deck once more. Seeing the men together as one for the first time since we had reached the island gave me time to consider how they had changed in the weeks since we had got here. They looked a healthier lot, that was for sure. Their complexions were ruddy, the bags that had drooped from under their eyes had vanished, and they had a fairly cheerful air to them, although I could tell that the unexpected proximity of all being on the boat again gave them a certain air of nervousness. They were already in dread of the day that the captain gave the order to up anchor.
The officers stood at the front, Mr Fryer and Mr Elphinstone dressed appropriately, while Mr Christian and Mr Heywood appeared in a pair of slip-trousers and a chemise open at the collar. I add this for the clarity of the record: I believe that Mr Heywood was inebriated.
I had had the good fortune not to see much of either of these two while on Otaheite, as Mr Christian was in charge of the nursery and, with Mr Heywood as his second-in-command, they lived and spent most of their time there. The captain visited every day, of course, and seemed pleased upon his return by what he had seen, but it was while he was gone that I took my opportunity to clean his lodgings and wash his dirty vestments. But I had heard gossip, of course, that following the work that prospered during the day there was a level of bacchanal enduring through the night that would have put the Greeks and Romans to shame. I saw none of it – yet – but that was because I was not of their number and was too closely associated with the captain to be invited to join their sport. But what I did know was that almost every other man from the crew was finding his way there at the dead of night and making friendly with the island women, and as ne’er a one of them was a Christian lady they had no qualms about allowing them congress.
The captain appeared on deck in full uniform and breathed in deeply through his nose as he observed each and every one of his charges. I recalled what Mr Fryer had said about the captain needing the smell of sea water in his nostrils and wondered whether he wasn’t stocking up for later and filling his lungs with enough that he might ration it out for himself as the night wore on. He glanced at his officers and frowned when he saw the outfits that Mr Christian and Mr Heywood had appeared in but looked away for the time being, shaking his head slowly.
‘Men,’ he declared, silencing the low murmurs with a word, ‘I brought you here
tonight as it has been some time since we gathered together as a crew. I wanted to . . .’ He hesitated here, searching for the appropriate word and seemed loathe to offer it, ‘thank you for all the hard work you are undertaking on the island. Having consulted with Mr Christian at the nursery earlier today and the botanist, Mr Nelson, I can confirm that our work is going according to plan and the success of our mission, should we continue at our current pace, is guaranteed.
‘However, there are one or two things I should mention to you as we still have at least a month left on this island and I want to ensure that things continue to go as smoothly as they have so far. The following are a list of . . . not rules, exactly; I think our company is a cheerful enough one without that. Consider them more a list of recommendations that I would like you all to keep in mind as the weeks follow.’
There was a murmuring among the men again at this, but as there was no suggestion that we were preparing to stay on the ship and sail away to England, it was not a nervous one.
‘Firstly,’ continued the captain, ‘as you are no doubt aware, the natives on the island believe that Captain Cook is alive and well and residing in Belgravia. In reality, of course, this heroic man was murdered by savages on nearby islands some years ago. I wish the lie, if you can call it such, to be continued. It is in our interests to maintain the deceit that a friendship continues between the late captain and our host, Tynah, who naturally looks up to him with the respect and adulation that such an Englishman deserves. I will take most seriously the actions of any man who violates this lie.
‘Secondly, I am aware that there is a certain amount of . . . friendliness between you men and the island women. This is not an uncommon thing and of course the ladies here, and I use the term liberally, have none of the decencies that our wives and sweethearts have at home, so do with them as you will but I urge you to treat them kindly and take a care for your own health as you do so.’
There was raucous laughter that greeted this remark and a series of bawdy shouts from the men that I won’t repeat here, for they’re beneath me. After a few moments had passed, the captain raised his hand, the men calmed, and he spoke again.
‘As you know, we have taken many items from the ship to the shore to assist us in our endeavours, and King Tynah has been kind enough to offer us the use of knives and cutting implements to assist us too. Every man should take care of them and see that nothing is lost or stolen. The value of any lost items shall be charged against their protector’s wages at a later date.’
I can assure you that the men didn’t care for that last remark and made it clear, but it seemed only decent to me. If a chap can’t be trusted to take care of items, then he’s not worth his salt.
‘I am sure,’ continued the captain, ‘that no man is engaged in the act of what I suggest next, but it has happened on previous voyages, on other ships, so I merely bring it to your attention. All ship items, everything we collect on the island, any part of our stores, is not yours, nor mine, but the king’s, and any man who embezzles any of it for the purposes of trading or bartering will be guilty of the most serious breach of standing orders and be dealt with accordingly.’
I looked round and saw some guilty-looking faces. It happened regularly, we all knew that – even the captain knew that – but this was his way of attempting to put a stop to it.
‘I shall appoint one of the officers to be placed in charge of regular trade between the island and the ship as part of an act of commerce and if any man here wishes to purchase something from the island he shall apply directly to this officer for permission. Mr Christian,’ he said, turning to the first officer, ‘I had intended offering this position to you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ he replied, practically rubbing his hands together in glee, for it was obvious that such a position held the right to earn more money than any other job on board. ‘I shall be glad to—’
‘Only, I note, sir, that you think it appropriate to stand on deck, facing the men, with your collar exposed.’
Mr Christian’s mouth opened a little in surprise and his face reddened; he was not accustomed to being chastised in front of any of us. ‘Sir?’ he asked nervously.
‘You think your garb appropriate, do you, sir?’ asked the captain. ‘And you, Mr Heywood, if Mr Christian was to drink his own bath water would you follow suit, sir?’
Mr Heywood glared at him but answer had he none.
‘Discipline is falling apart here, gentlemen,’ stated the captain in a serious tone, but not as serious as it was to become in the following weeks. ‘I would ask you not to present yourself during your official duties in such a naked fashion. Mr Fryer, perhaps you would be good enough to take over the trade duties.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Mr Fryer, displaying no emotion on his face, and I must admit I thought it a fair thing indeed to see him rewarded for once, rather than damned.
‘Then, that’s an end to the lecture, men,’ said the captain with a tone of forced jollity. ‘I believe I will sleep on board tonight. Mr Christian, you will lead your nursery men back to the island. The rest shall stay on the Bounty.’
And that was how we left things that night, a set of rules before us, a warranted officer chastised in front of us, and a feeling among us all that the good times we had been enjoying might shortly be due to end.
Quicker than any of us expected.
31
HERE’S HOW WE DID THINGS. Every afternoon, around four bells, the captain went to his tent for his afternoon nap. He was always an early riser, was Captain Bligh, and if he didn’t get to sleep for a few hours before his eve ning meal he could be a real tartar. Before he drifted off, I made sure to leave a bowl of fresh water by his bedside so that he could splash himself back to life when he woke up if I hadn’t yet returned. And then I left.
I ran southwards from the camp into an overgrown area of trees and bushes, the type of flora I had never encountered in my life before, but I saw little of it as I hurried along, eager for my destination. I was not there for a sightseeing exercise, nor was I interested in pretty garlands; I had a finer prize awaiting me. I continued running and took a left here, a right there, a leap over some rocks that would appear before me by surprise, a circle round a mound of trees that gathered together in a circle as if protecting some creature in its home within. And then I came out into a clearing where the island fauna scurried around with a sense of great importance; I paid them as little heed as they did me.
By now I would be able to hear the gentle lapping of the water in the streams and the fall of the water slipping into the lake below and I would know that I was close, and when that happened I’d get the motions, knowing what lay ahead for me. There were more trees then, and a sudden burst of sunlight, and before very many more minutes had passed I was greeted with the sight I had been longing since our last parting: Kaikala.
She was the same age as me, I think, maybe a year older. Perhaps two at a stretch. Probably three, if I’m to be entirely honest. And when she smiled at me she made me feel that no one in my life had ever thought as highly of me as she did, or considered me quite such a dashing chap, an assessment that was probably a fair one. She couldn’t get her mouth around the name John, and had no ability whatsoever for Turnstile. Fortunately, having never seen a turnip in her life, she had no intention of calling me by that blasted name either and I believe it would have brought tears from my eyes had some miscreant told her of it and she had found it amusing. And so she settled on my middle name, Jacob, which she pronounced to sound like Yay-Ko, and in this way the two of us, Kaikala and Yay-Ko, formed our alliance.
It was common knowledge that every man on the island had sought companionship with the womenfolk – every man with the exception of Captain Bligh, that is, whose heart belonged to Betsey back home in London. These were not affairs of the heart, for the most part, but some of the younger fellows, such as myself, less accustomed to the affections and intimacies of women than our elder colleagues, perhaps mistook these sign
s of warmth for something more than they truly were. Kaikala had made it clear from the day that we had first met that I belonged to her and that I was to be her willing slave, ready to go where she wanted, when she wanted, and to do whatever she bade me. This was a role I accepted with willingness and delight. The more she asked of me, the happier I was to fulfil her desires; I was no longer Mr Bligh’s servant-lad, I was hers. As we lay by the lake together, touching each other gently, my fingers able to explore her titties now as freely as I might have shaken the captain’s hand, she asked me about my life back home in England.
‘My home is in London,’ I told her, playing the toff even though I had never been north of Portsmouth in my life. ‘I have a charming house just off Piccadilly Circus. The floors are marble and the banisters are made of gold, although the sheen has come off them a little so I left instructions with my servants to have them buffed and shined for my eventual return. I summer at the country house, however, in Dorset. London is a frightful bore in the summer, don’t you think?’
‘You are a rich man?’ she asked me, eyes opening wide.
‘Well, the thing you have to remember is that it’s vulgar to say that you are,’ I explained, stroking my chin sagely. ‘So let us just say that I am comfortable. Very, very comfortable.’
‘I wish to be comfortable,’ she said. ‘You have many friends in England?’
‘Oh, but of course,’ said I. ‘We are heady members of society, my family and I. Why, only last year my sister Elizabeth had her coming-out ball and within ten days she had received four proposals of marriage and a rabbit of unusual colour from an admirer. A maiden aunt has taken her for a companion in the meantime as she completes a walking tour of Europe, where I dare say she will engage herself in any number of romantic misunderstandings and alliances, and she can recite her numbers in French, German and Spanish.’
She smiled and looked away and I could see that she liked the idea of this. She had an air about her of someone who knew nothing of the world outside her own, but who was aware nonetheless that there was one out there, a better one, and she wanted some of it.