Fletcher of the Bounty

by Graeme Lay

‘Yes, but they’re entertainers as well. They have great mana and are very privileged. They never marry. And if the females become pregnant, they bear the child then kill it at birth.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So they can continue their real role. Children would interfere with that.’

  ‘That is so callous. Killing one’s own children!’

  ‘Indeed. But some arioi, Maire told me, commit infanticide over and over again.’ He lay back on the sand. ‘But apart from that barbarity, this is a wonderful island. I’m happy here, Fletcher. Happier than I thought possible. Aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t want to leave.’ Lately the black fog had begun to hover on his horizon.

  ‘But we must. It’s our duty.’ When Fletcher made no reply Peter asked, ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘But what happens when duty and personal happiness conflict? Which wins?’

  ‘If one is a naval man, duty does.’

  ‘Yes.’ A longer pause. ‘But the thought of going back to sea for months . . . with that man . . .’

  ‘I thought you and he were friends.’

  ‘We were. But he has changed, and I don’t like what he’s become. He loves the adulation he gets from the Tahitian leaders. But it’s my belief that they only fete him because he gives them the things they cherish, the nails, the iron tools, the trinkets, the English clothing. And because of the lie that he’s Cook’s son.’

  Peter wiped beads of sweat from his brow. ‘You may well be right. I have the feeling that many of the Tahitians don’t really like him. Tu and Itia certainly do, though.’

  ‘And they are well rewarded for it.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He frowned. ‘But why have you changed your mind about the captain?’

  ‘Never mind. It’s not your problem.’ Fletcher picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. ‘But I have to say, Peter, I’m torn. Between Tahiti and the deep blue sea.’

  Peter nodded. ‘That I do understand. I’ve told Maire that I’ll come back here. And I will, somehow.’ He sat up. ‘I’m going to be tattooed tomorrow.’

  ‘Really? Where?’

  ‘Here.’ He touched his left breast. ‘With a star of St George. Like the Order of the Garter. Maire’s organising the tattooist. I’ve drawn a St George star for him, as a pattern.’

  ‘Well, if you get one, then I shall too. To prove how Tahitian I’ve become.’ Fletcher smiled. ‘We shall be the Knights of Tahiti.’

  From the direction of the lagoon came a shout. ‘Christian! Heywood!’

  They both stood up. Fletcher called out. ‘Who’s that? What is it?’

  ‘It’s Cole! You’re both to report to the ship, immediately. There’s an emergency.’

  The crew assembled on deck, barefooted and dishevelled. Their women had been sent back to the shore. Fletcher stood alongside William on the quarterdeck, Fryer on his other side. William’s face was puce.

  ‘This morning the watch relief, Martin, found the duty officer, Hayward, asleep at his post. For that he will be punished severely.’ He glowered at the crew. ‘And I have reason to believe there have been desertions.’ There was a collective intake of breath from the men. They looked at each other. Who was missing? ‘Cole will now take a roll call. Cole!’

  The boatswain read the list of names. As each was called, a hand went up, accompanied by an ‘Aye.’ Fryer ticked them all. Except for three: able seamen Millward and Muspratt, and master-at-arms Churchill.

  William’s eyes narrowed. ‘So, Millward, Muspratt and Churchill. All guilty of desertion. And Bounty’s cutter has gone with them.’ A tremor went through the assembly. ‘And eight muskets and ammunition.’ There was another shocked reaction. These were all hanging offences. A few, who had known of the deserters’ plan, stared down at the deck.

  William’s expression darkened. ‘All will pay heavily after they are captured. And they will be.’ He called down to Cole. ‘Take Hayward below and put him in irons. I’ll go ashore and speak with chief Tu. He’ll have informants who will seek rewards. They will know where the treacherous swine have gone!’

  Next day the cutter was found abandoned in Matavai Bay. After it was returned to the ship by some local men they reported that the deserters had gone in a canoe to the atoll of Tetiaroa, twenty miles north-east of Tahiti.

  Two of Tu’s most trusted men, Ariipaea and Moana, agreed to sail to the island and return with the deserters. This was a risky proposition, given that Churchill, Millward and Muspratt were known to be armed.

  Then the weather turned foul, with rain and gales, and it wasn’t until nine days later that Tu’s pair of vigilantes sailed off for Tetiaroa. But they did so determinedly, confident that Captain Parai would reward them for their work.

  Shortly after the Tahitians left in their canoe, Fletcher was summoned to meet William in his cabin. He knocked, then entered.

  ‘Ah, Mr Christian.’

  Fletcher blinked. Mr Christian? William was holding a sheet of paper. He waved it. ‘This was found after I searched Churchill’s chest this morning.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a list. Of the men who have been ashore.’

  ‘Oh. What of it?’

  ‘What of it? Your name is on it.’ He looked down. ‘Along with Heywood, Young, Peckover, Stewart and Martin.’ He paused. ‘And the deserters, Churchill, Millward and Muspratt.’

  Fletcher nodded. ‘Yes, we’ve all been staying ashore.’

  ‘Then why are the deserters’ names on this list?’

  ‘Because they’ve been onshore as well. As I’m sure you know.’

  Fletcher felt sweat starting to pour from his face and hands. The implications were obvious. As well as the names of those who had deserted, the others on Churchill’s list could be construed as potential deserters. The other thing the men had in common was that they had all received a tattoo on the island, the St George star on the left breast. So Churchill’s list comprised a kind of brotherhood. But Fletcher had no idea why he had written the names down.

  William waved the list, looking at Fletcher sceptically, an expression which suggested that Fletcher and the others on it had collaborated in the trio’s desertion.

  Fletcher decided not to mention the tattooed brotherhood. It would only heighten the captain’s suspicions. He simply said, ‘I’ve had nothing to do with the list. I didn’t know it existed.’

  William kept staring at him. ‘And you have no idea why those names are on it?’

  ‘No. It is meaningless to me.’

  William maintained his stare. Then he said, ‘Well, I shall keep Churchill’s list. And memorise the names that are on it.’

  ‘That is your prerogative.’

  ‘Yes.’ William turned away. ‘I need detain you no longer. Go.’ Then he turned back. ‘Oh yes, one other thing. That money I advanced you in Cape Town. You will be charged interest on the repayment.’

  They all watched in silence as the deserters were brought aboard in irons. Their story had already been circulated: after Tetiaroa the trio had tried to sail to Moorea in their canoe, to seek sanctuary there with Tu’s foe. But they had missed the island and had instead landed back on Tahiti, at Fa’a, a few miles west of Pare. Their ammunition was useless, as it had become saturated, Tu’s informants reported. The captain and four armed sailors had gone in the launch to arrest the deserters and return them to the ship.

  ‘From the Articles of War. “Every person in or belonging to the fleet, who shall desert or entice others to do so, shall suffer death, or such other punishment as the circumstances of the offence shall deserve, and a court martial shall judge fit.”’

  Standing before the assembled company, Bligh set his commander’s handbook aside. Churchill, Millward and Muspratt, shackled at the wrists and ankles, stood below him on the mid-deck, guarded by Cole and Morrison. An abject Hayward, hands together in front of him, stood to one side.

  Bligh thrust back his shoulders, as if trying to make himself taller. �
��The men you see before you have brought shame on His Majesty’s Navy. Thomas Hayward slept on watch and so allowed these three scum to steal a boat, muskets and ammunition, and desert our ship. Were their labour not essential to our return voyage, they would already be hanging from the yardarm.’ He stared up at the spar in question, then back at the company. ‘Instead, until we return to England and they appear before a court martial, they will each be given two dozen lashes. They will be kept in irons for a fortnight, then given another two dozen.’ He raised his chin. ‘As for Hayward, he will be taken below and shackled again. Then sent before the mast.’

  Those watching looked down, some with closed eyes. The guilty trio stared ahead impassively. Hayward looked close to tears.

  Fletcher stood in silence, his eyes drifting in the direction of the shore, where he knew Mauatua would be waiting. He yearned to be off the ship again. He well understood why the trio had run. In his heart he was sorry they had been recaptured. He too longed to be free from this wooden prison, this place of brutality and incarceration. During these last weeks he had been living a completely different way of life, a freer, gentler, more loving one. The knowledge that he would soon have to leave it all behind was unbearable. He belonged on Tahiti now, not on a vermin-infested ship commanded by a vain, foul-mouthed, perverted dwarf.

  On the horizon in his mind, the black fog was looming. He shut his eyes tightly, desperate to rid himself of it. And as soon as he could, he returned to shore.

  Mauatua’s family had a fare in the hills above Point Venus where they went to stay when the weather on the coast was oppressively humid. As it was now. When she suggested they spend a night there, Fletcher was only too pleased to agree. The further away from Bounty the better, he told her.

  They walked up through the forest, along the same trail that led to the waterfall pool. There they stopped and swam in its cool water and Mauatua washed her hair under the cascade. Aroused by her nakedness, Fletcher led her to the side of the pool, where they made love.

  Afterwards they lay there, bound by an afterglow. She took a tiare bloom from her garland and slipped it behind his left ear. ‘Titereano, mauruuru roa. You are a nice man.’

  ‘And you are so lovely. Ua here vau ia oe.’

  ‘Ua here vau ia oe. I love you, too.’ She touched his left breast, where the tattooed star was starting to heal. ‘Does it still hurt?’

  ‘Not as much.’ He sat up. ‘Shall we go on now?’

  The trail led up a valley, then rose to a ridge. Mist clung about the mountain peaks and parakeets, doves and petrels flittered about the forest. Fletcher carried a pack containing some cooked pork and tuna, bananas and drinking nuts.

  As the afternoon sun grew stronger the mist melted away. The fare was in a clearing atop the ridge. The foliage had been cleared on the side that faced the sea, giving views across the coast below. Forest giants grew over the rest of the clearing: puarata, tamanu and uru. The globular breadfruit were beginning to mature now.

  They sat on the lip of the clearing, staring down at the coast below. Mauatua pointed and recited the names of the districts she knew, from east to west. ‘Papenoo, Mahina, Pare, Atehuru . . .’ Point Venus protruded into the lagoon like a sprocket. Inland from it the knoll that Captain Wallis had named ‘One Tree Hill’ also stood out. They could see Bounty at her mooring, resembling a child’s model boat afloat on a village pond.

  Mauatua pointed to the north-east. ‘There, Tetiaroa.’ The atoll was just visible on the horizon, a bracelet of green, palm-covered islets, enclosing their cerulean lagoon.

  To the north-west was Moorea, its jagged profile now backlit by the sinking sun. The shadowed side of the island was purple; a few gauzy clouds clung to its peaks. Between the two islands the sea had a pearly sheen. Fletcher wondered, could there be a lovelier sight in all the world?

  His arm around Mauatua, he asked, ‘Have you been there? To Moorea.’

  ‘No. Enemies of my people live on the other side of that island.’

  ‘But from here it is very beautiful.’

  ‘Ae. Very beautiful. To see, but not to go.’

  They stayed watching until the sun slipped below the horizon. Then the sky began to flare, suffused with different colours: red, pink, orange, vermilion. The display of brilliant light lasted only a few minutes, then the colours faded. Minutes later darkness fell, and from the forest came the din of shrieking insects. Away to the east, a rising crescent moon glowed through the velvet blackness and a few pinpricks of starlight began to appear. But to them it seemed that the world beyond the fare had ceased to exist.

  Using his flint, Fletcher lit the candlenuts Mauatua had collected on the way up. Then, lying on the fare mats, they ate by their light.

  Mauatua said, ‘It is good to eat with a man. Before you, I never ate with a man.’

  ‘Because it is ra’a?’

  ‘Ae.’ She took another mouthful of pork. ‘It is good to share food with you, Titereano.’

  Fletcher smiled. ‘And I prefer to eat with you, rather than the crew. They are pigs. Pigs who eat pigs.’

  They talked well into the night. He asked why the Tahitians had such a love for nails. ‘Because iron is special. So strong,’ she said. ‘And we never had it.’ She told him about the people from Hitia, on Tahiti’s east coast. After Bougainville’s men traded nails for their cunnies, the women planted the nails in the ground, thinking a tree would grow from them, bearing nails. She looked scornful. ‘Hitia people are very stupid.’

  She was still curious about him, his family, and Peretane. ‘Where does King George live?’

  ‘In London. In a very, very big fare.’

  ‘How many wives does he have?’

  ‘Only one. Queen Charlotte.’

  ‘Do they have children?’

  ‘Yes. Twelve, at the last count.’

  ‘What is London like?’

  ‘Very big. Many houses, many people. Beside a wide river.’

  ‘Captain Tute brought horses with him to Tahiti. We had never seen such a creature. It was huge. We called it pua’a horo henua. Did you have a horse?’

  ‘Yes, on the Isle of Man I rode a horse. To the top of the island.’

  ‘Does Captain Parai live with his father, Tute, in Peretane?’

  ‘No. Parai is not Tute’s son, Mauatua. And Tute is dead. He was killed on Owhyhee.’

  This shocked her. ‘Aayaa. Not Tute’s son? And Tute is killed? So Parai has told lies?’

  ‘Yes. Parai is a liar.’

  ‘Oh. That is not good.’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ But he was pleased that now one Tahitian knew the truth.

  After they had again made love, as she lay in his arms he said: ‘You call me by a Tahitian name, now I shall give you an English name.’

  ‘Which name?’

  ‘Isabella.’

  ‘Izz-a-pella.’ She laid her head on his chest. ‘Why that name?’

  ‘Because it’s lovely. Like you.’

  He did not add, because it was also the name of my first love.

  On 6 March Fletcher and the others living ashore were summoned back to Bounty. Fryer and Cole were present, along with the midshipmen. Assembled on the quarterdeck, they were addressed by an irate William Bligh.

  ‘This morning I ordered the men bring up and lay out the spare sails. After they did, I found them to be mildewed. Some were even rotten.’ He stared at Fryer. ‘Why did you not air the sails properly?’

  ‘I was not instructed to.’ Fryer’s voice was icy.

  ‘Huh? Must I instruct you to do everything? Do you have no awareness of your responsibilities as master of this ship?’ His blazing eyes alighted on Cole. ‘Furthermore, I also inspected the cutter. There is rot in its keel. There is also rot in the stock of the bower anchor. Why did you not note that, Mr Cole? And take steps to remedy these faults?’

  ‘I was unaware of the rot, Captain.’

  ‘Holy fucking shit, man, there’s far too much unawareness on this ship! I doubt i
f any commander in naval history has had to put up with so much damnable unawareness.’ He glared at them. ‘The slackness you’ve all shown on this ship is shameful. You are all — and I include you midshipmen — guilty of dereliction of duty.’ He paused to regain his breath. ‘I have recorded every instance of it, and it will be reported fully, upon our return to England.

  ‘Contrasting with your negligence, the work of Nelson and Brown has been splendid. We have more than a thousand breadfruit plants, as well as other living botanical specimens which will shortly be taken aboard. So our work here is almost done. From the first day of April we will prepare the ship for sailing, and be at sea as soon after that as possible.

  ‘Fryer, instruct Lebogue to dry and repair the rotting sails. Cole, get Purcell to attend to defects in the cutter and the bower anchor. Fryer, oversee that work.’ He flicked his hand dismissively. ‘Now, all of you, leave, and attend to your duties. Properly.’

  As they went below, Peter muttered to Fletcher, ‘What about his own negligence? All he’s done these last weeks is toady to Tu and his fat missus, and visit the other chiefs like a potentate. The biggest slacker on Bounty is its commander. Bugger the duties, I’m going back ashore. Coming?’

  ‘I am,’ said Fletcher.

  The first day of April. Fool’s day. The thought of departure sickened him. The dark fog was rolling in.

  Bounty’s decks were scrubbed; more repairs were made to the sails and awnings. Provisions were bartered for by Peckover and taken aboard: green plantains, breadfruit and many coconuts. These were stowed below or piled about the decks. Pigs were butchered and the pork salted down. Two dozen live pigs and seventeen goats were brought aboard and penned mid-deck. Water casks were repaired and filled.

  One thousand and fifteen flourishing breadfruit plants were stowed in the Great Cabin, in pots on the racks and in tubs and boxes on the quarterdeck. Bounty took on the appearance of a floating Kew Gardens. Nelson continued to fuss over the plants like a new parent with his babies: watering them, nurturing them and putting them to bed. But Brown, who had made a special taio on the island, had lost his enthusiasm for gardening.

  As the word spread that Tute’s son and the Bounty would soon be leaving, hundreds of Tahitians descended on Pare. Many came aboard, where they sang, chanted, danced, drummed and feasted on the produce they had brought with them. But there was also an overlying air of sadness as the departure impended.