CHAPTER EIGHT.
DIVISION OF THE ISLAND--MORALISINGS, MISGIVINGS, AND A GREAT EVENT.
There was no difficulty in apportioning the new possessions to which themutineers had served themselves heirs. In that free-and-easy mode inwhich men in power sometimes arrange matters for their own specialbehoof, they divided the island into nine equal parts, of which eachappropriated one part. The six native men were not only ignored in thisarrangement, but they were soon given to understand, by at least severalof their captors, that they were to be regarded as slaves and treated assuch.
It is, however, but just to Edward Young to say that he invariablytreated the natives well and was much liked by them, from which it is tobe supposed that he did not quite fall in with the views of hisassociates, although he made no objection to the unjust distribution ofthe land. John Adams, being an amiable and kindly man, also treated thenatives well, and so did Fletcher Christian; but the others were more orless tyrannical, and those kindred spirits, Matthew Quintal and WilliamMcCoy, treated them with great severity, sometimes with excessivecruelty.
At first, however, things went well. The novelty and romance of theirsituation kept them all in good spirits. The necessity for constantactivity in laying out their gardens, clearing the land around the placeof settlement, and erecting good log-houses,--all this, with fresh airand abundance of good food, kept them in excellent health and spirits,so that even the worst among them were for a time amiably disposed; andit seemed as if those nine men had, by their act of mutiny, reallyintroduced themselves into a terrestrial paradise.
And so they had, as far as nature was concerned, but the seeds of evilin themselves began ere long to grow and bear fruit.
The fear of the avenger in the form of a man-of-war was constantlybefore their minds. We have said that the _Bounty_ had been burnt, andher charred remnants sunk to remove all traces of their presence on theisland. For the same end a fringe of trees was left standing on theseaward side of their clearing, and no erection of any kind was allowedupon the seaward cliffs or inland heights.
One afternoon, Christian, who had been labouring in his garden, threwdown his tools, and taking up the musket which he seldom left far fromhis hand, betook himself to the hills. He was fond of going there, andoften spent many hours in solitary watching in the cave near theprecipitous mountain-peak.
On his way up he had to pass the hut of William McCoy. The others,conforming to the natural tendency of mankind to congregate together,had built their houses round the cleared space on the table-land aboveBounty Bay, from which central point they were wont to sally forth eachmorning to their farms or gardens, which were scattered wide apart inseparate valleys. McCoy, however, aspired to higher heights and grandersolitudes. His dwelling, a substantial log-hut, was perched upon aknoll overlooking the particular valley which he cultivated with the aidof his Otaheitan wife and one of the native men.
"You are getting on well," said Christian to McCoy, who was felling atree when he came up to him.
"Ay, slowly, but I'd get on a deal faster if that lazy brown-skin Ohoowould work harder. Just look at him. He digs up that bit o' ground asif he was paid by the number o' minutes he took to do it. I had to givehim a taste of a rope's end this morning, but it don't seem to have donehim much good."
"It didn't seem to do much good to you when you got it on board the_Bounty_," said Christian, gravely.
"P'r'aps not; but we're not on board the _Bounty_, now," returned McCoy,somewhat angrily.
"Depend on it, McCoy," said Christian, softening his tone, "that the catnever made any man work well. It can only force a scoundrel toobedience, nothing more."
"H'm, I b'lieve you're not far wrong, sir," returned the other, resuminghis work.
Giving a friendly nod to Ohoo as he passed, and a cheerful"good-morning" to Mrs McCoy, who was busy inside the hut, Christianpassed slowly on through the luxuriant herbage with which that part ofthe hillside was covered.
At first he walked in the shade of many-stemmed banyans andfeathery-topped palms, while the leaves of tall and graceful fernsbrushed his cheeks, and numerous luxuriant flowering plants perfumed theair. Then he came to a clump of bushes, into which darted one of thegoats that had by this time become almost wild. The goat's rushdisturbed a huge sow with a litter of quite new pigs, the gruntings andsqueakings of which gave liveliness to an otherwise quiet and peacefulscene.
Coming out on the shoulder of the mountain just above the woods, heturned round to look back. It was a splendid panorama of tropicalvegetation, rounded knolls, picturesque mounds, green patches, andrugged cliffs, extending downwards to Bounty Bay with its fringe ofsurf, and beyond--all round--the sleeping sea.
Two or three little brown, sparrow-like birds twittered in the bushesnear, and looked askance, as if they would question the man's right towalk there. One or two active lizards ran across his path, pausing nowand then, and glancing upwards as if in great surprise.
Christian smiled sadly as he looked at them, then turned to breast thehill.
It was a rugged climb. Towards the top, where he diverged to the cave,every step became more difficult.
Reaching the hole where Isaac Martin had come by his misadventure,Christian descended by means of a rude ladder which he had constructedand let down into it. Entering the cave, he rested his musket againstthe wall of rock, and sat down on a ledge near the opening towards thesea. It was a giddy height. As he sat there with hands clasped overone knee and eyes fixed wistfully on the horizon, his right foot, thrusta little beyond the edge of the rock, overhung a tremendous precipice,many hundred feet deep.
For a long time he gazed so steadfastly and remained so motionless as toseem a portion of the rock itself. Then he heaved a sigh that relievedthe pent-up feelings of an overburdened soul.
"So early!" he muttered, in a scarcely audible voice. "At the verybeginning of life, just when hope, health, manhood, and opportunity wereat the flood."
He stopped, and again remained motionless for a long time. Then,continuing in the same low, sad tone, but without altering his positionor his wistful gaze.
"And _now_, an outlaw, an outcast, doomed, if taken, to a felon's death!Comrades seduced to their ruin! The brand of Cain not more terriblethan mine! Self-exiled for life! Never, _never_ more to see friends,country, kindred, sisters--mother! God help me!"
He laid his face in his hands and groaned aloud. Again he was silent,and remained without motion for nearly an hour.
"_Can_ it be true?" he cried in a voice of suppressed agony, looking upas if expecting an answer from heaven. "Shall I never, never, _never_awake from this hideous dream!"
The conscience-smitten young man laid strong constraint upon himself andbecame calmer. When the sun began to approach the horizon he rose, andwith an air of stern resolution, set about making various arrangementsin the cave.
From the first Fletcher Christian had fixed on this cavern as a retreat,in case his place of refuge should be discovered. His hope was that, ifa man-of-war should come at last and search the island, he and hiscomrades might escape detection in such a sequestered and well-concealedcavern. If not, they could hold out to the last and sell their livesdearly. Already he had conveyed to it, by degrees, a considerablesupply of ammunition, some of the arms and a quantity of such provisionsas would not readily spoil with time. Among other things, he carried tothat elevated outlook Carteret's book of voyages and some other works,which had formed the very small library of the _Bounty_, including aBible and a Church of England Prayer-book.
When not gazing on the horizon, expecting yet fearing the appearance ofa sail, he passed much of his time in reading.
On the evening of which we write he had beguiled some time withCarteret, when a slight sound was heard outside the cavern.
Starting up with the nervous susceptibility induced by a guiltyconscience, he seized his musket and cocked it. As quickly he set itdown again, and smiled at his weakness. Next moment he heard a voiceshoutin
g. It drew nearer.
"Hallo, sir! Mr Christian!" cried John Adams, stooping down at theentrance.
"Come down, Adams, come down; there's no occasion to keep shouting upthere."
"True, sir; but do you come up. You're wanted immediately."
There was something in the man's voice which alarmed Christian.Grasping his musket, he sprang up the ladder and stood beside hiscomrade.
"Well?"
"It's--it's all right, sir," said Adams, panting with his exertions inclimbing the hill; "it's--it's a _boy_!"
Without a word of reply Christian shouldered his weapon, and hurrieddown the mountain-side in the direction of home.
The Lonely Island: The Refuge of the Mutineers Page 8
