by John Boyne
‘Turnstile,’ said the captain. ‘You must decide.’
I looked at him and at Mr Christian, who I despised with all my heart now. But the truth of it was in my soul. I did not wish to return to England and to my fate at the hands of Mr Lewis. And I did not wish to die at sea in the launch, my body eaten by fish, my bones scattered about the foot of the sea. Should I stay with the Bounty, then I might return to the island, to paradise, perhaps to a reconciliation with Kaikala. Mr Lewis would never find me. I would have a happy life. It was not a difficult choice.
I stepped over to Mr Bligh, shook his hand and smiled at him. ‘You’ve been very kind to me, sir,’ I said. ‘And I will be eternally grateful for it.’
I thought I could see his whole body collapse slightly in sorrow as he nodded his head, but nevertheless he did not take his hand away instantly. When he did, he patted my shoulder, turned away and walked to the launch. I watched him descend, and then turned round to face Mr Christian.
‘This has been a most unexpected experience,’ I said with a smile on my face, before turning to Mr Heywood, pulling back my right arm into a fist, and hitting the scut so hard on the jaw that he fell backwards, arse over tea-kettle, and lay sprawled on the deck in a daze. The men, and Mr Christian, stared at him and then back at me.
‘I’m with the captain,’ I said then in a steady voice, before turning round, climbing over the side of the Bounty, and stepping down into the launch and into an uncertain future.
Part IV
The Tub
28 APRIL – 14 JUNE 1789
41
Day 1:28 April
JOHN JACOB TURNSTILE, PRIZE FOOL. I’ll be damned if I know what came over me.
Although I’d had precious little time to consider my options, it had been my intention during the whole sorry mess to stay on board the Bounty and return to the island with the mutineers. It’s true I could barely stand any of them, and considered them a fine set of cowards and scoundrels to have behaved in such a fashion towards a man as decent as the captain, but I did not believe that I harboured sufficient loyalties to any man or cause to look after the well-being of a single creature other than John Jacob Turnstile himself. Throughout the prosecution of the whole palaver, I thought that once we were back on Otaheite I could fashion a craft of my own and set out, travelling island by island, in search of a better life and a happier world. And instead I cheeked Mr Christian, thumped Mr Heywood and ended up as a passenger of one of the Bounty‘s launches on a cold, dark night, certain of nothing other than the surety of my approaching demise.
There were nineteen of us, all told. Of the officers, only Mr Fryer, Mr Elphinstone and the captain himself were present. Surgeon Ledward was with us, and the botanist Mr Nelson. The quartermasters, John Norton and Peter Linkletter, had both seen fit to remain loyal to Mr Bligh, but as we had no lines to stow or cables to reel, their regular employments would be of little use. I noticed the cook, Mr Hall, sitting at the side with a panicked expression upon his face and wondered which of us he would fillet first. The butcher, Mr Lamb, was no great navigator. Nor was the carpenter, Mr Purcell. And nor, for that matter, was I. We did not have a single AB among our unhappy number; every one of those rough fellows was already on his way back to make merry with the women of Otaheite.
As we were cut free from the ship, the men who had once been afeared of the captain whistled at him and called him base names, and I felt my gorge rise with anger at the dirt of it. It was a low thing, a very low thing indeed, to set other Christian men off to their certain deaths in a boat in the middle of the night, but it was a worse thing to take a pleasure in it. The captain, for his part, seemed unperturbed and rose not to their taunts, for such was his dignified way. I watched him and he seemed oblivious to the whole thing, as if this was simply another part of the voyage home. His narrowed eyes were darting back and forth, staring into the black night as if he could espy a white line appearing through it that would lead us safely back to England, and I swear it was as if he was reading a map in the darkness of the night.
As our launch drifted away from the Bounty I heard a loud sound of splashing behind us and when I turned I could see by the fire-torches that the pirates were engaged in a commotion at the rear of the ship, pouring a discharge through the very portholes I had walked past a thousand times as I made my way towards the captain’s cabin. The discharge was accompanied by a heavy thudding sound and great cheers from the men on deck.
‘What are they doing?’ I asked Mr Nelson, the botanist, who rose to his feet a little and narrowed his eyes for a better observance. ‘It’s as if they’re throwing away the ship’s fine things.’
‘It’s more precious than that, Turnip,’ said he, shaking his head and locking his jaw in anger. ‘Can’t you see? It’s the breadfruit. Those dogs are drowning them in the sea.’
My mouth dropped open in surprise and I turned to face the captain, but the light had grown so low now that I could only make out the bulk of his person as he shifted in his seat and stared; his demeanour was hidden from me.
‘That’s a crime,’ I shouted, appalled by it. ‘A terrible crime after all we have been through. Why did we come here, after all, if it wasn’t for them? Why did we risk our lives, again and again? Why are we left out here in the middle of this blessed ocean if it wasn’t on account of them damnable breadfruit?’
A low, thunderous snorting sound emerged from Mr Nelson’s mouth and I swear that I had never seem him look so angered. He had always been a most mild-mannered fellow, happy to have his nose in a set of leaves. For him to see the plants that he had nurtured so carefully be thrown to their demise in such a careless fashion was enough to make him want to dive overboard, swim back to the ship, and have at every man there in hand-to-hand combat.
‘They’ll be hanged!’ I heard one man say from the other side of the launch; I knew not who.
‘Every one of them will face justice,’ said another.
‘We won’t see it if they do,’ came a low voice that I knew to be that of Mr Hall. ‘We’ll be at the bottom of the sea, a fine supper for the fish.’
‘That’s enough of that,’ said Mr Fryer, his voice uncertain now as he considered what lay ahead, but his very words were echoed by the captain who snapped them out, not so much in anger but in a desire to have our attention.
‘Hold your tongue, Mr Hall,’ said he. ‘Their punishment, and they will receive one, you can mark that, is not our concern for now. We have a calm night at the moment. We may not have many more ahead of us. Keep the launch steady while I think. I am still your captain. I will bring us to safety. You must have faith.’
The men said nothing, but in truth there was nothing for us to say; the waves were as placid as they had ever been and in that moment I began to think that perhaps we did not have as much to worry about as I had previously thought; and, believing that the next day would bring a solution to our problem and a quick return to civilization, I did the only thing that I could think of that would be of any use under the circumstances.
I lay back, closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep.
42
Day 2: 29 April
WHEN DAYLIGHT CAME ON THE second day I was able to take full account of the predicament that we found ourselves in. The launch being no more than twenty-three feet in length and with nineteen loyalists on board, we were put together in a most intimate and unpleasant fashion. The captain was seated at the fore, engaged in consultations with the quartermaster John Norton and Mr Fryer, while two of the men sailed the vessel without a great deal of enthusiasm and the rest tried to sleep. We were pointed in the direction of the island of Tofoa, which the captain said was not a great distance for us to travel, and where we might land our small craft and send a party ashore in search of provisions for the journey ahead. I confess that I was not filled with the trepidations at this time; indeed, I felt almost cheerful that we were all gathered together in such confinement with little work to do, save the task of keeping ourselves a
live. For I had been sailing alongside Mr Bligh for long enough – aye, and alongside Mr Fryer too – that I felt a confidence in their abilities to see us to safety.
‘This was a foolish thing,’ I heard the second quartermaster, Mr Linkletter, whisper to his mate, Mr Simpson. ‘What possibility is there of survival, I ask you that? We know not where we are and we have few provisions. We shall be dead before the day is out.’
‘You shouldn’t say such a thing,’ came the braver reply. ‘The captain knows what he’s about, don’t he? How quickly you give up!’
This was confidence all right, but it was only the second day. None of us knew what the weeks ahead held in store for us.
We arrived in sight of Tofoa by midday and it gave each of us a terrific boost to see the craggy rocks and stone aspect of that godforsaken island, as if it was the smooth-walled harbour of Portsmouth herself that was coming into sight. I was at the rear of the launch, but the captain sat at the foremost part, watching directly ahead, occasionally staring bleakly into the waters below before shouting orders to the sailing men behind him in such a tone that we might have all been back on board the Bounty and not stuck on that miserable craft.
‘Ho there, men,’ he cried, raising an arm. ‘Keep her steady a moment.’
The launch came to rest and the men looked overboard. Through the blue waters we could see a long range of stone beneath us, ready to break our small craft into pieces should we venture across it. The land was still too far away for us to anchor and it was fierce miserable to be stuck at such a distance when a landing would have brought great hope to us all.
‘Turn her around,’ roared the captain. ‘Nor’ by nor’west.’
The launch turned and we sailed slowly and carefully, rounding the pointed tip of Tofoa until we came to a darker stretch of water, which indicated that an easier passage to shore might be available to us. Mr Fryer gave the order to make for the land and we did so, stopping only when the waters changed again and it became clear that to risk further ingress was to risk our own transport and, by extension, our lives.
‘Mr Samuel,’ said the captain, selecting the ship’s clerk at random. ‘You and Mr Purcell and Mr Elphinstone. Into the waters with you and over to shore. See what provisions you might find there and report back as soon as you can.’
‘Aye, sir,’ said the three men, plunging out and swimming for the island, not a great distance away, if truth be told. They were walking with the water lapping their waists in only a minute or two. As they did so, I moved my position near to the fore of the launch to be closer to the captain; it was the position I preferred for most of the voyage to come.
‘What say you, Mr Fryer?’ asked the captain quietly of his first officer. ‘Not the most helpful of islands, I suspect.’
‘Perhaps not, sir,’ acknowledged the master. ‘We may be forced to sail on and take a care with what provisions we have in the meantime.’
‘Oh, we shall take care of them, sir,’ said the captain with a half-laugh. ‘I can promise you that.’ I glanced to his left where a small crate lay, filled with bread and a few pieces of fruit, the only nourishment that our erstwhile shipmates had deemed necessary to provide us with. ‘It might surprise you how little a man needs in his belly to survive.’
‘Yes, it might,’ said Mr Fryer flatly before turning away and I thought it a curious reply.
We sat there for several hours, bobbing up and down in the water, each man considering how he had found himself in this unhappy position. Very few words were spoken, but if spirits dipped, then the man in question would look to port, espy the rocky island of Tofoa and take solace. The reason why is hard to know. Perhaps any sort of solid ground seemed comforting.
Our three fellows swam back to us as the sun started to fall and their reply was an unhappy one. There was nothing there, they stated. Nothing to eat. No fruit trees. No natural vegetables. One tame spring that had provided only two flagons of water, which they brought with them and which the captain took quickly out of their hands. We were each of us possessed by a terrible thirst at that point and there was little question in my mind that Mr Elphinstone, Mr Samuel and Mr Purcell had drunk several quantities of these flagons themselves before rejoining us, but there was naught that could be done about that. They settled back into their seats and we all looked to the captain to know what might come next.
‘We sail on, then,’ he said after a few moments, answering our unspoken question. ‘And if there is a man aboard who doubts that we can do it, then he may keep his infamous thoughts to himself, for we have difficult days ahead and only a positive outlook will be permitted or, I swear, I shall feed you all to the fish myself. Mr Fryer, hand me that loaf.’
The master reached into the crate and removed one of the larger loaves and I stared at it in horror, for although it was bigger than its fellows, there was scarcely enough in the captain’s hands to satisfy three men, let alone more than six times that number. And then, to my surprise, Mr Bligh tore the loaf in two, and then in two again, replaced three of those worthy quarters in their crated home and held the fourth aloft for all of us to see. The men stared at it wordlessly, appalled that this morsel was to be divided between nineteen of us – it seemed impossible that such a feat could be achieved – but before too long each of us held a few crumbs in our hands and were swallowing them quickly, teasing our appetites so cruelly that they cried out in complaint.
‘Where to now, sir?’ asked Mr Fryer, settling the sailors on either side of the launch, awaiting directions.
‘Isn’t it obvious, Mr Fryer?’ asked the captain, half-smiling. ‘Homeward, sir. Point us homeward.’
43
Day 3: 30 April
TOWARDS HOME WE MAY HAVE been aiming, but towards home we did not yet advance, for a series of islands were lying to the north-east of Tofoa and Mr Bligh determined that it would be a sensible thing for us to rest at another of these on this day and discover whether there might be something edible to be discovered on their terrain. The island that he selected was chosen on account of the fact that there was an easy inlet through which we could land close to the rock-face of the atoll itself and also because there was a row of thick, long-lying vines strung from the top of that same rock to the ground below, left there no doubt by natives of these islands who had used them to find their way to the top.
‘I shall venture up myself, I believe,’ said the captain, surprising each one of us by the decision, for it would be no mean feat to scale that sheer face; it would require monkey-powers.
‘You, Captain?’ asked Mr Fryer in surprise. ‘Would it not be more sensible to send one of the men?’
‘I am a man, Mr Fryer,’ came the saucy reply. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, His Majesty places his best men in command of his ships, so why should I not ascend? Mr Nelson, sir, you will join me?’
All heads turned at once to stare at the botanist, Mr Nelson, who appeared at that moment to be engaged in the fine art of scratching his bollix, for his hand was tucked within his breeches and was finding quick purchase there. He had not perhaps been listening to the conversation between the two officers but, becoming aware of our sudden interest in him, he removed his hand from his nether regions without an ounce of shame, sniffed at it for a moment, pulled an appreciative face as if he was mightily pleased with what it offered him, and then looked towards the assembled audience, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘Can a man not scratch himself without charging a penny for viewing-rights?’
‘Mr Nelson, you have not heard me, sir,’ shouted the captain from the fore, straining to keep a note of jollity in his tone. ‘I plan to scale the rock-face we see before us by means of the vines that lie along them to determine whether there is aught to be found at the top. Will you join me?’
Mr Nelson frowned for a moment and looked at the sight ahead of him and shook his head as if he was actually considering it. ‘My legs are a little weak this morning, sir,’ he said. ‘And my arms too.
I don’t know if I have the strength for it.’
‘Nonsense,’ said the captain cheerfully, standing to his feet and beckoning the botanist to do the same. ‘On your feet, man. The exercise will do you good. Between the two of us, I say that the second man to reach the top is a dandy.’
Mr Nelson gave a deep sigh but stood up, aware that the captain’s request was no request at all, but an order, and one that must be obeyed, even if the boatswain did not have the tools of his trade alongside him to punish the mischievous. The rest of us, I recall, shrank back in our places, eager that the captain and his chosen companion would be on their way and that none of us would be enjoined to accompany them.
‘Captain,’ said Mr Elphinstone, helping Mr Bligh out of the boat, whereupon he was immediately submerged waist high in water but had no more than twenty feet to walk to where the vines hung. ‘Do you think this is sensible?’
‘I think it is a mighty sensible thing to discover whether there might be food atop those cliffs,’ said the captain. ‘I don’t know about the condition of your belly, Mr Elphinstone, but mine wants filling.’
‘I only ask, sir,’ he replied, ‘because it is a dangerous climb, and a difficult one, and if there is naught at the top of interest, then it will have been a wasted one as well.’
The captain nodded for a moment and looked over at the vines and then upwards to the top of the cliff, whose bounty was hidden to us from this vantage point. ‘I would ask you this, Mr Elphinstone,’ said the captain eventually, as if he was explaining an obvious matter to a simpleton child: ‘why would the natives of these islands put so much effort into creating these floral ladders were there not something of interest to be discovered at the top of them? Can you think of a reason for it, sir?’