Mutiny on the Bounty

by Peter Fitzsimons

  The most amazing thing?

  The Women treat him as one of their sex, and he observed every restriction that they do, and is equally respected and esteemed.38

  16 January 1789, Matavai Bay, blast the Master

  There is news!

  Captain Bligh is fussing about the bread-fruit plants on shore when he receives a message from Mr Fryer: The person who carried the deserters off to Tethuroa is on board. Should I detain him?39

  Let’s think.

  YES. As if Captain Bligh would ever give any other answer.

  But it is too late.

  For, as Bligh writes in his contemptuous hand, ‘while the Messenger was absent, which was about 10 minutes, he suffered this Offender to jump overboard and escape’. The damn fool Fryer has thus ensured that ‘I now lost an opportunity of securing the return of the deserters.’40

  Bligh, of course, does not miss the opportunity to impart to Mr Fryer exactly what he thinks of him.

  But the depths of Captain Bligh’s rage at Mr Fryer grow yet deeper the next day, when the skipper orders all the sails to be taken out of the Sail Room and on to the shore, in order to be aired. Now, Mr Fryer has previously assured Captain Bligh many times that the sails – quite important to a sailing vessel, in the scheme of things – have been well looked after, as part of his responsibilities, and are ‘in good Order’.41

  And yet, this proves not to be the case! In fact … ‘the New Fore Topsail and Fore sail, Main Topmt. Stay sail & Main Staysail were found very much mildewed and rotten in many places.’42

  Yes, that’s it. Mildewed. Rotten. Bligh is stunned and enraged in equal measure. Despite Mr Fryer’s constant assurances that the sails have been looked after, it is now clear that he was lying and, worse, Captain Bligh realises to his horror that during their whole stay on Tahiti ‘these New Sails were never brought out, nor is it certain whether they have been out since we left England’.43

  Blast the Master! Liar! Dullard! Idiot! Sluggard!

  Unable to trust Fryer, Captain Bligh personally oversees the sails being dunked into the sea and hung on shore to dry, ready to be repaired. Sail-maker Lawrence Lebogue will be kept very busy indeed.

  If only, Captain Bligh confides to his Log, he could do what he truly wants to do.

  If I had any Officers to supersede the Master and the Bosun, or was capable of doing without them, considering them as common Seamen, they should no longer occupy their respective Stations.44

  But Bligh has no officers to supersede anybody, he barely has anyone capable of anything. What he has is a scurvy bunch of low-life sailors, obsessed with fornicating with their Tahitian mistresses, and only ever reluctantly attending to their duties. None of them is a sailor born, as he was, none of them is capable of doing every job on the ship as Bligh himself has done ever since he was eight years old.

  Somehow, on this oh so important mission, needing competent men who understand that importance and behave accordingly, he finds himself awash with wastrels, rogues, rascals, fools, liars and deserters, most of whom deserve to be lashed.

  Captain Bligh is not pleased, and, as ever, expresses his discontent with much the same passion, and even much the same noise, as an exploding volcano.

  23 January 1789, the bread-fruit camp at Oparre, it was a dark and stormy night

  Hetee-Hetee comes to find his former shipmate Bligh and tells him, in his thick accent, that he has news. The deserters have returned to Tahiti in a native canoe and he knows where they are!

  Where?

  ‘The upper part of Tettahah, about six miles to the westward.’45

  It is late in the afternoon, with just an hour of daylight left. A storm is gathering. The obvious thing for Bligh to do is to garner his resources and set out after the deserters at first light the following morning. But Captain Bligh is not a man for the obvious.

  He is a man for action, and he wishes to pursue them immediately.

  There are none he can trust for such an important task, and so he resolves to do it himself, quickly commanding four men to accompany him, along with Hetee-Hetee. Just to get to the shore at Tettahah requires ‘a difficult navigation through the reefs’,46 and although the sea is indeed rough, and the night more than dark, a combination of Bligh’s preternatural seamanship and Hetee-Hetee’s knowledge of the island shore, means they are able to land on the beach ‘at a convenient place for the Boat, but some distance from where the Deserters were’.47

  In a half-strangled combination of yelling and whispering – making himself heard above the storm, while not wanting to alert those not huddled around him – Bligh tells his sailors to bring the Launch safely around the island to where the deserters are thought to have secreted themselves, while he and Hetee-Hetee land and take a cross-country shortcut through the jungle, beneath a stormy sky. And yet, a new problem quickly emerges. Although they find some brigands … they’re not British. A group of Tahitians are following them closely, and in whispered hisses, Hetee-Hetee makes it clear to the Captain that he knows what they want: everything Bligh has.

  Still the Natives close in, until something has to give.

  It proves to be Bligh’s temper.

  ‘I will destroy you!’48 he barks, firing his guns over their head.

  The beachside brigands scatter like startled chooks, but they are not the only ones who are now terrified.

  Hetee-Hetee’s fears were so great on the occasion, that I could scarce get him on, and as I scolded him for leading me into such a scrape, it was some time before he got the better of it.49

  At least better-behaved Natives are nearby, including a Chief, Teppahoo, and his wife, who greet them warmly and confirm that the deserters are indeed in a hut nearby.

  With the reluctant Hetee-Hetee in tow, assisted by some of Teppahoo’s men, Bligh heads off into the night, confident he is close to securing the wretched deserters with ease.

  Hetee-Hetee clearly – judging by the way he dawdles, the way his eyes dart around like trapped sparrows in a snare – does not share his confidence. What has he done, bringing this report to Captain Bligh, which has seen him now in lock-step with this madman in the middle of this stormy night. What has he done? Onwards they go.

  Through the flashes of sheet lightning, they can see in the suddenly glimmered gloom, just ahead, the hut! A lesser man than Bligh, or at least a more cautious one, might now position his men around the hut, or work out a way to minimise the risk to himself. But Bligh cannot bear it a moment longer.

  Taking his pistol in hand and cocking it, he strides forward, calling on the cursed brigands to give themselves up!

  Inside the hut, the voice of the hated Captain appears to paralyse what last little bit of fight the deserters have left in them. For now, all of Mr Churchill, Mr Muspratt and Mr Millward run out, their empty hands in the air.

  Bligh glares at them, the flashing sky giving his cocked pistol an even more sinister edge than usual.

  Keeping the muzzle trained on the traitors, Bligh convinces one of the reluctant Natives, a good swimmer, to go and find the men he has left in the Launch, now bobbing a hundred yards offshore of the nearby beach, and tell them to return to their last landing spot. With copious threats of death and sundry insults, the Captain leads the three deserters away from the hut and along the beach at gunpoint, until he finally reunites with the rest of his sodden crew, who bring their own arms to bear. Judging it unwise to take them in the Launch during the storm, Bligh arranges for the deserters to be secured in a nearby hut. Of course, it is Bligh himself, not daring to trust anyone else, who sits sentry through the long raging night, his musket trained upon them at all times, allowing his men to sleep.

  When morning breaks, so too does the rain, and Bligh is able to make a triumphant return to the Bounty with his prisoners in tow – a sure demonstration of his powers to all those who might be thinking of following the deserters’ lead. The lesson must be learnt – if you desert the Bounty, then Captain Bligh himself, alone, will hunt you down, and
bring you to justice.

  An even greater reason for would-be deserters to do their duty and stay loyal soon becomes apparent, as the story of the deserters comes out. While it had been one thing to imagine they could live easily on Tahiti and surrounding islands for the rest of their days, their experience, once on their own, had been grim. Not only had their canoe overturned on their way to Tettahah, which had seen them nearly drowned, but in the process they had lost ‘One Musquet two Bayonets and some scabbards’, with all their powder ruined. Like half-drowned rats, they had washed up on the shores near where they had been found, and got by since, but barely.

  The truth is, Bligh’s two pocket pistols had been more than enough to overwhelm their remaining arsenal of useless weapons, and it had practically been a relief to be recaptured.

  They even claim to a disbelieving Bligh that, ‘It was our intention to return to the ship.’50

  24 January 1789, the Bounty moored off Oparre, the cat yowls

  For the deserters, it is time to pay the piper.

  The crew assemble on the foredeck, the officers wear full naval uniform, and even King Tinah’s brother, an unusually sober Prince Whydooah, is here to witness the ceremonies, taking his place just off Bligh’s right shoulder as the Captain gravely reads out the Articles of War before getting to the punishments.

  And yet, Bligh and all the crew remain oblivious that the person most in danger right now is the Captain himself. For yes, Prince Whydooah, having heard that there are to be lashings this morning, is concerned that his own tyo, Thomas Hayward – the officer on the watch when the deserters had got away – will be one of those lashed. And he will not have it.

  ‘If Mr. Hayward,’ the Prince had secretly vowed to his tribesmen, ‘is punished with Churchill, Muspratt, and Millward, I will kill Bry …’51

  And he means it!

  ‘Soon as I see Mr. Hayward receive the first blow, I intend to level Bry and escape by jumping overboard, and diving till I reach the shore.’52

  Which is the explanation for the position of Prince Whydooah right now, hovering behind Bligh, seemingly holding his club impassively, but in fact gripping it, ready to swing, the instant his tyo Hayward is threatened.

  As Bligh begins to announce his verdicts, the punishments each man is to receive, Whydooah’s hand further tightens on his club.

  Mr Millward is to receive 24 lashes. As is Mr Muspratt. Mr Churchill, strangely, is only to receive a dozen lashes.

  Thomas Hayward is to be … confined below in chains.

  Whydooah relaxes. Bligh lives.

  And yet, these lashings Captain Bligh has decided upon are merely the first half of what they are about to receive. After being lashed this time, they will be held below in chains for ten days – right beside Thomas Hayward – until they are strong enough for a second helping, may the Lord have mercy on their souls.

  It goes as expected, the attendant sailors wincing as Morrison’s lash draws blood, then flesh, then, in the case of Muspratt and Millward, exposes bones. Once Morrison has unleashed his lash for the sixtieth time, and Churchill is cut down, it is time for Captain Bligh to unleash a verbal lashing, aimed at young Mr Hayward in particular.

  ‘This affair,’ begins Bligh in grave tones, ‘was solely caused by the neglect of the officers who had the watch. However exempt you are at present from the like punishment, yet you are equally subject by the Articles of War …’53

  Bligh’s meaning is clear.

  True justice would see the officers who let these men escape on their watch whipped every bit as hard as the men themselves.

  As to the deserters, it is possible, just possible, they have learnt their lesson. Such at least is their plea, in a letter they soon send Captain Bligh, from one of the previously empty storerooms below, where they are kept in irons.

  January 26th, 1789.

  SIR,

  We should think ourselves wholly inexcusable if we omitted taking this earliest opportunity of returning our thanks for your goodness in delivering us from a trial by Court-Martial, the fatal consequences of which are obvious; and although we cannot possibly lay any claim to so great a favour, yet we humbly beg you will be pleased to remit any further punishment, and we trust our future conduct will fully demonstrate our deep sense of your clemency, and our steadfast resolution to behave better hereafter.

  We are Sir,

  Your most obedient, most humble servants,

  C. CHURCHILL,

  WM. MUSPRATT,

  JOHN MILLWARD.54

  Allow them mercy, then, and give them no more lashes?

  That is an easy one to decide.

  Request denied. As a matter of fact, only a few days before their second flogging takes place, another seaman, Isaac Martin – a native of Philadelphia – is also given ‘nineteen lashes for striking an Indian … though great intercession was made by some of the chiefs’.55

  Bligh is now intent on his course, every bit as much as he had been in trying to get around Cape Horn, come what may – if the men will not behave of their own accord, he will beat the discipline into them.

  And all three deserters, plus Martin, can consider themselves lucky that, after their lashes, they are released from their irons. Not so Thomas Hayward, who remains below, with the irons around his ankles and wrists. Unable to flog him, Bligh has decided his only recourse is to keep him chained for weeks, perhaps months, he is not yet sure.

  31 January 1789, Bounty, for the sake of the bread-fruit, not the men

  Captain Bligh is insistent.

  The ship, top to bottom, must be cleared of the cockroaches that infest it.

  And for good reason.

  ‘We were constantly obliged to be at great pains to keep the ship clear of vermin,’ Bligh notes in his journal, ‘on account of the plants.’56

  But it is not easy. For these vermin have not survived for millennia without being cunning themselves. To escape the clod-hoppers of the sailors, as James Morrison records, ‘the cables appeared alive with them, and … they flew to the rigging and mastheads and returned as before’.57

  Ultimately, despite all their efforts and all the vinegar sloshed and swabbed about, the cockroaches appear ‘as plentiful as ever in two or three days’.58

  6 February 1789, Matavai Bay, things drift further

  Captain Bligh, come quickly! After a blowy night, as the sun has come up, one of the sailors on shore has noticed something extraordinary, and highly dangerous.

  See there, Captain?

  The cable by which the ship rode had been cut near the water’s edge in such a manner that only one strand remained whole.59

  Sabotage!

  If the cable had broken in that wind, the Bounty would have certainly been swept on the rocks, and likely holed. It would have delayed their departure for months! Mercifully, no damage has been done, and the ship is quickly secured with extra ropes, but it is less certain whether the rapport between the visitors and the hosts will escape equally unscathed.

  For, as Bligh notes, the event ‘tended greatly to diminish the confidence and good understanding which had hitherto been constantly preserved between us and the natives’.60

  In fact, when Tinah arrives only shortly after the discovery, Bligh, though convinced that his friend is ‘perfectly innocent’,61 still speaks to him sharply, insisting that the perpetrator of this criminal act be found and brought forth for punishment.

  Alas, when it emerges two days later that Tinah has had no luck in finding the guilty party, Bligh does not believe him – Liars, liars all! – and gives full fire to his ire, which is no small thing.

  ‘King Tinah, I will destroy you if the ship touches the shore!’ Bligh thunders.

  ‘I revile you, your people and Tahiti!’62 he goes on. At this remark the Captain can see the Tahitians buckle with inner distress, and many even begin to cry.

  Yes, Bligh’s stormy tongue can reduce a King and his subjects to a flood of tears. Taken aback by his own success, Bligh is quick to feel guilt
at the pain he has caused, perhaps without cause.

  Their tears soften Bligh, and his words soften too. He reveals that his anger was but a test, a trick if you will, to see if any secret was kept hidden around this crime. ‘I can no longer keep you people under an idea that I mistrust you,’ says the solemn Captain before invoking one King to another. ‘I only make a particular request, as you value the King of England’s friendship, so use your utmost endeavours to find out the offenders and send them to me!’

  By humbug and hook, Bligh wants his crook. King Tinah replies, ‘I most sacredly promise’,63 and the pair reconcile over a noontime meal on the Bounty.

  Very quietly?

  While it never occurs to Captain Bligh that the cable had been slashed by a non-Native, some among the ship’s company are not so sure.

  ‘It was the private opinion of men as well as officers,’ James Morrison chronicles, ‘that no native had been so bold as to attempt it …’64

  Which leaves, of course, someone in the ship’s company. Those with the best opportunity would be the men in the shore party, like Fletcher Christian or Peter Heywood, but that, too, is unthinkable.

  Isn’t it?

  11 February 1789, Matavai Bay, the puppetry Heiva

  Another evening, another Heiva for Captain Bligh.

  This one, however, has a difference – and not only because it involves just four men and two maidens, going wild to a particularly driving drum-beat. Nor because the sole part of the maidens is to come very close to Bligh, before pulling a string, at which point they sway voluptuously before him ‘as a present’65 before walking away …

  No, this one stands out because of what the men now do. For yes, Bligh has seen many things in his 34 years on this earth, but never has he beheld anything as ‘uncommon and detestable’66 as this.