“I came naked upon the Quarter Deck with only my Trowsers on,” replied Peckover.
One by one, the court now went through the names of the defendants:
“Did you on that Day see Joseph Coleman?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing when you saw him?”
“Looking over the Stern.”
“Did you see Peter Heywood, Midshipman on that Day?”
“No.”
“. . . In the former part of your Evidence in Conversation with Mr. Nelson the Botanist he said to you that you knew whose fault it was, or Words to that effect—do you apprehend that Mr. Nelson alluded to any of the Prisoners?”
“No,” Peckover replied. He himself had of course been alluding to Bligh; but now, having successfully directed the court’s attention to this conversation Peckover backpedaled, adding, unconvincingly, “It is impossible to judge what he meant.”
“Those Men who remained in the Ship did you believe them to be of Mr. Christian’s Party, except Coleman Norman McIntosh and Byrn?”
“We had every reason to suppose so,” Peckover replied. The point-by-point examination of who had been seen where, who was under arms, was ultimately beside the point. No, Peckover had not seen anyone under arms apart from those he had named; but, yes—he believed that, with the noted exceptions, everyone who had remained with the ship was “of Mr. Christian’s Party.”
The final question put to Peckover revealed how far the court still stood from grasping the reality of conditions on board the Bounty.
“Were there any Centinels usually placed on board the ‘Bounty’ in any part of the Ship at Sea?” Commanders of 74-gun ships, these naval judges were accustomed to the services of divisions of marines and hundreds of seamen. Bligh, with his sparse company divided into three watches for their healthful repose, had scarce men enough to spare for sentinels, a role normally assumed by marines, so conspicuously absent from the Bounty. In any case, so confident had Bligh been of the security of his small ship that he had slept with his cabin door open.
“No,” was Peckover’s simple answer to this uncomprehending question.
The day was still young when William Purcell, the carpenter and one of Bligh’s most stubborn adversaries, was summoned by the court. Pasley had complacently deemed his account “favorable” to Heywood, but now the Heywoods would discover what Bligh had long ago learned to his great cost—namely, just how independent this bloody-minded and fearless seaman could be. Until Purcell’s performance, things had drifted along promisingly for Peter Heywood, with few mentions of his name to snag the attention of the listening judges. But Purcell’s electrifying testimony would turn all this on its head.
His account began with the now familiar images: the sudden announcement that the ship was taken, Bligh with his hands lashed behind him and Christian brandishing his naked bayonet.
“Mr. Christian has the Command—the Captain is confined all resistance will be in vain, if you attempt it you are a Dead Man,” as Matthew Quintal had informed him. Purcell had been in his quarters in the fore hold, with Cole and Lebogue, when he learned the news. On going up the companionway ladder, he passed the midshipmen’s quarters and saw Heywood and Stewart “in their Birth abreast of the Main Hatchway on the Larboard Side.” Sentinels posted at the hatchway entrances controlled who came and went by way of the ladders.
After arguing with Christian about which boat was to be given to Bligh, Purcell went straight to work on preparing the more seaworthy launch. Of all the people who claimed responsibility for obtaining the bigger, safer boat, Purcell was the most likely really to have done so. Without immediately saying as much, he had, it seems, determined to join Bligh from the outset.
“I asked Mr. Christian if he meant to turn us adrift in the Boat, to let us have the Launch and not make a Sacrifice of us,” he now told the court. Purcell’s facing down Christian caused the mutineer to flinch. He had done nothing, he told Christian, “to be either ashamed or afraid of,” and he wished to see his native land.
In his workmanlike way, Purcell had gone about procuring “such Things as I thought would be useful”—a bucket of nails, saws, a looking glass and clothes. He then approached Christian and asked for his tool chest, “[w]hich after much Altercation he granted.” By “Altercation,” one gathers Purcell stood toe-to-toe with Christian and fearlessly argued with him, naked bayonet notwithstanding. Fryer now came on deck and, addressing the men under arms, begged them “in the Name of God to lay down their Arms,” asking them what they were about and “if the Captain had done anything to confine him.”
“No, Damn you,” Churchill had growled in reply, “you ought to have done that Months ago.”
During this exchange, Purcell went into the boat and was busy stowing the considerable supplies he had managed to gather. Suddenly, Isaac Martin—a thirty-year-old able seaman from Philadelphia, and one of the mutineers who had been under arms—appeared in the boat with a bag of possessions and told Purcell he was coming along.
“I replied if ever we get to England, I’ll endeavour to hang you myself,” Purcell responded. Hearing him, two of the mutineers “presented their Pieces” at Martin and ordered him out of the boat; the sailor reluctantly complied. More ominously, other mutineers began to harangue Christian to order Purcell out of the boat as well, claiming that if the carpenter was allowed to leave with his tool chest, Bligh’s party would “have another Vessel in a month.” Like Coleman, the armorer, Purcell was highly valued for his skills. Christian, however, may have reflected upon the undesirability of having the uncompromising carpenter along as a reluctant passenger, for when the boat finally cast off from the Bounty, Purcell was in her.
“When the Boat left the Ship,” Purcell told the court, “she had about 7½ Inches amidships above water.”
Of the prisoners before the court, Purcell had seen Ellison, Burkett and Millward under arms, but he repeated the incident described by Cole when Millward expressed his fear that he would be compelled to join the mutineers on account of the “former foolish Affair.”
“When you came upon Deck did you see any one of the Prisoners?” the court asked Purcell.
“I did,” he replied.
“Did you see Mr. Heywood?”
“No.”
“Had you any Conversation with him?”
“Not at that time.”
It was this vaguely qualified response that prompted a fatal query: “At any other time?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see Mr. Heywood standing upon the Booms?” This was following up on Cole’s recollection that Heywood had helped launch the boat.
“Yes,” said Purcell.
“Had he a Cutlass in his Hand?” This startling question from the court came from nowhere—no hint of such a thing had been given in any of the other evidence.
“He was leaning the Flat part of his Hand on a Cutlass on the Booms,” said Purcell, “when I exclaimed, ‘In the Name of God Peter what do you do with that?’ when he instantly dropped it. One or two of the People had previous to that laid down their Cutlasses, being Armed with Cutlasses and Pistols to assist in hoisting the Launch out.”
Under the ensuing intense cross-examination from the court, Purcell attempted to undo some of the obvious damage wrought by his almost offhand statement: He had looked upon Mr. Heywood, he now explained, “as a person confused and that he did not know that he had the Weapon in his Hand, or his Hand being on it, for it was not in his Hand.” Probably Heywood had gone below “to collect some of his Things to put into the Boat.”
“How long was it after the Launch was hoisted out before she went from the Ship?”
“I think it must be near two Hours.”
“Do you think then,” came the skeptical query from one of the court, “that Mr. Heywood was so long employed in collecting his Things as you have before supposed?” And Purcell, whose characteristic blunt clarity was becoming ever more fuzzy, backtracked to say that Heywood had not afte
r all left immediately, but had stayed to help other people with their things, and then only gone below “but a very short time, ten Minutes or a Quarter of an hour,” before the launch pulled away from the ship.
For the next fifteen minutes, the court hammered away at the cutlass. Where was the arms chest in relation to Heywood’s berth? Did he drop the cutlass accidentally or on purpose? Did others do the same? Were the mutineers aware of Heywood’s having a cutlass? Would they have permitted him or any other “well disposed Person to the Captain” to have touched a weapon? Were they so careless of the arms as to leave them unattended for anyone to pick up? Had Heywood expressed “any Desire or Inclination to follow his Commander?”
Previous to Purcell’s testimony, it had appeared that all of the defendants were more or less accounted for in terms of where they had physically stood during the approximately two and a half hours the events unfolded. But now, here was Peter Heywood wandering at will around the deck when the clear loyalists had been confined or guarded; here was a loose bayonet that had not been used in defense of the ship; here was Peter dawdling on the booms after the launch had been lowered into the water—dawdling for close to two hours, by Purcell’s own reluctant arithmetic.
Others significantly affected by the carpenter’s testimony were Morrison and Muspratt; Morrison had desired Purcell “to take Notice in the face of the whole of the Mutineers that he was prevented from coming into the Boat.” This Purcell stated with some vigor. On the other hand, he had not seen Muspratt under arms but had seen him handing “some Liquor up to the Ship’s Company.”
Michael Byrn, as was his wont, used his right of cross-examination to pepper Purcell with questions that did nothing to advance his cause; he appeared not to comprehend that things were going well enough for him as they were. As always, his cross-examination seemed only to irritate the witness from whom he was beseeching support.
“Do you recollect my saying, ‘Mr. Purcell, if you live to go home, I hope you will go to my Friends and let them know, I know nothing of this Transaction, nor had any hand in it?’ ” he now asked, in what appears to have been a shameless mimic of Coleman’s parting plea to seek out his friend in Greenwich.
“No,” said Purcell. All of Byrn’s questions were similarly dismissed. Perhaps cowed by this example, if not stunned by the new turn the testimony had taken, none of the other defendants were inclined to raise their voices, and the court was adjourned until the morrow.
The testimony of the warrant officers completed, the Bounty’s midshipmen were now introduced. Of all the Bounty’s young gentlemen, only Thomas Hayward and John Hallett had officially been midshipmen. Captain Pasley had indicated to Peter Heywood that he intended to speak to these young men, but there is no evidence that he had actually done so. Although the socially inferior warrant officers had been found, in his view and presumably Aaron Graham’s, to be “favorable,” both Hayward and Hallett had sent very clear advance messages that they thought Peter culpable. It had been Thomas Hayward’s father who advised Nessy to seek all “interest” she possibly could on her brother’s behalf. Similarly, John Hallett had informed Nessy that notwithstanding his former friendship to Peter, he would if called upon “be strictly bound by Oath to adhere to Truth.”
One of the most striking facts to emerge from the evidence given thus far was that from the very outset the mutineers had planned to put Hayward and Hallett in the boat with Bligh and his clerk, Samuel. Every witness testified that he had learned of Bligh’s intended fate in the same breath he learned of that of the two midshipmen. Perhaps no other circumstance so clearly betrayed that the actions of Christian and his fellows had been purely personal, and had little to do with professional complaints against their commander.
Hayward and Hallett had hardly been favorites of Bligh. It was Hayward who had been on watch when the Tahitian prisoner held for theft had made his escape; he was subsequently turned before the mast and confined in irons for a full month by way of punishment. No other officer, not even Purcell, had been treated so harshly. Bligh referred in the notes to “Mr Hallett’s contumacy” and, even more pointedly, commented to his wife that Hallett “has turned out a worthless impudent scoundrel.” There had been no clique around Bligh—or if there had been, Hayward and Hallett had manifestly not been part of it.
But the two young men stood sharply apart from the other young gentlemen in one important respect: they were both young professionals who had gone to sea by choice. Sons of prosperous middle-class families, they had other careers open to them. Christian and Heywood, on the other hand, were the sons of bankrupts under the shadow of debtor’s prison, while Edward Young was the illegitimate son of a noble family. A career at sea was the only way out for these men, whether or not this had been the path of choice.
Whatever his reasons, Christian had not got along with his middle-class colleagues and, as the day’s testimony would show, neither had other of the defendants. The mutineers’ decision to dump these three officers—Bligh, Hayward and Hallett—into one small boat seems to have had no basis except that the three men were individually not liked.
These considerations must have weighed somewhat heavily on the minds, if not the consciences, of the ten defendants as they were ferried in their own small boat from the Hector back to the Duke on the third day of their trial. The court called Lieutenant Hayward, “late 3rd Lieut. of His Majesty’s ship ‘Pandora,’ and formerly Midshipman belonging to His Majesty’s Armed Vessel the ‘Bounty.’ ” Uniquely, Thomas Hayward could bear witness to the events of both sagas for the prosecution.
On the morning of April 28, 1789, Hayward said, he had been on Christian’s watch and actually spoke with him only moments before the mutiny. Christian had relieved the previous watch at four in the morning, as was usual; an hour later, “after giving Orders to prepare for Washing Decks,” he ordered Hayward to take the lookout “while he went down to lash his Hammock up.” Minutes later, while Hayward was watching a shark following in the wake of the ship, he had looked up to see, “to his unutterable Surprize,” Fletcher Christian and eight others coming aft, “[a]rmed with Musquets and Bayonets”; of these men, only Thomas Burkett was among the prisoners.
“On my going forward to prevent their Proceedings I asked Fletcher Christian the Cause of such an Act, he told me to hold my Tongue instantly.” Ordering Isaac Martin to stand sentry, Christian had gone below to Bligh’s cabin.
“At the time that this happened the People on Deck were Mr. John Hallett, myself, Robert Lamb, Butcher, Thomas Ellison (the Prisoner) at the Helm; and John Mills at the Conn.” Mills claimed total ignorance of all that had happened—although he later gleefully joined with the mutineers—but Ellison left the helm and took up a bayonet.
“The Ship’s Decks now began to be thronged with Men,” Hayward told the listening court, among whom were the prisoners John Millward and William Muspratt, both under arms.
“Peter Heywood one of the Prisoners, George Stewart and James Morrison one of the Prisoners, [were] unarmed on the Booms.”
“Murder!” came Bligh’s voice from his cabin, and shortly afterward he was led with hands bound on deck, where he was quickly, menacingly, surrounded by most of the men. Some of the other officers, such as Purcell and Fryer, now also came up as Christian gave the order to prepare the cutter.
“We remonstrated against it,” Hayward recalled, “she being too small and very leaky to contain us, and he gave us the Launch.” As soon as the launch was readied, Christian “order’d Mr. John Samuel, the Clerk, Mr. John Hallett, Midshipman, and myself into her.” After asking permission to collect some clothes, Hayward and Hallett were allowed down to their berths one last time. With sentinels placed around the hatchway and another below standing guard over the arms chest, the two midshipmen had made their way with some difficulty. Passing through Bligh’s small dining area, they had arrived at their own berths, where they had found “Peter Heywood the Prisoner in his Birth”: apparently he too had returned below.
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Hayward told the court, “I told him to go into the Boat, but in my hurry do not remember to have received any Answer.”
“Mr. Hayward ask’d me what I intended to do,” Peter had written to his mother from Batavia of this same moment. He had already, as he told her, mulled over the fact that if he went onshore he risked death at the hands of natives. “I told him to remain in the Ship.”
Hayward bundled a few clothes into a bag and went back on deck. His request to take his instruments and charts—proof to his patron, William Wales, of his diligence as a navigator—was “positively refused” by Christian.
Bligh, brought to the gangway by Christian, was then surrounded by a sizable, rambunctious crowd.
“Damn him, I will be Centry over him,” Ellison had sworn, brandishing a bayonet. Apparently swept up by the mounting hysteria and confusion, Ellison was transformed from dutiful helmsman to enthusiastic mutineer within the space of two hours.
Once in the boat, the mutineers told Bligh they would give him a tow toward land, but the situation on board the Bounty was swiftly deteriorating. A jeering crowd gathered on the taffrail, or stern rail, the better to watch the small boat’s humiliating and precarious progress.
The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty Page 29
