Mutiny on the Bounty

by Peter Fitzsimons

  For his part, Hayward is anything but tacit, and actually falls to his knees and begs Christian to change his mind on the whole exercise.

  ‘Consider, Mr. Christian,’ he burbles, ‘what a dangerous step you have taken.’160

  Sensing the rising of Christian’s humanity, his realisation that it really would be akin to murder, Bligh presses his case, his voice not taunting this time, but almost reasonable …

  ‘Can there be no other method taken?’161 asks the deposed Captain.

  The question has been addressed, in an almost genteel manner, to Fletcher Christian – effectively, ‘Captain’ to ‘Captain’ – but Churchill, for one, refuses to recognise the protocol and has a sharp answer himself for Bligh’s query.

  ‘NO!’ he yells. ‘This is the best and only method!’162

  Snapping out of his momentary détente with Bligh, Christian agrees with Churchill. Putting Bligh and his Loyalists into the Cutter is the only way. Hoist the Cutter into the water, men. It can hold up to six men, so there will be plenty of room for Bligh and three Loyalists, together with whatever supplies they take. Certainly, they will not be able to go much beyond the nearest island in such a vessel, and will be marooned there, but that is surely the best thing. They will at least likely survive, and it may well be years before they are rescued, allowing the Mutineers plenty of time to make good their escape, resettle elsewhere, or do whatever it is they are going to do – that part of the plan has not yet been quite worked out.

  In the spirit of working much of it out as they go along, Cole, noting that the boat now in the water is bumping alongside the hull of the Bounty, orders Michael Byrn, the Blind Fiddler, to climb down into it and to make sure it does not thump against the ship too hard while other preparations are made. Byrn, highly confused as to what is going on, simply does as he is told. Meanwhile, Cole, with Purcell by his side, appeals to Fletcher directly.

  ‘Mr Christian, give us the Long Boat,’163 pleads Cole referring to the 23-foot Launch. Christian makes no reply.

  Us? Christian is shocked. These are good men. They know, and have acknowledged to him, what a brute Bligh is. And yet, instead of coming with him on the Bounty, they would choose to bob in the South Pacific with the bastard Bligh? It beggars belief. But it is true, Mr Cole and Mr Purcell will exit now with Bligh.

  ‘Mr Christian, give us the Long Boat,’ Cole says again. ‘Give us the long boat.’

  The words are repeated exactly, with intent, to emphasise the unspoken meaning behind these words.

  You are in our debt, Fletcher. We helped you last night. You must help us now.

  Still there is no reply. And yet Bligh can sense that Christian is wavering under Cole’s pleas, and implores him to go further. ‘For God’s sake, Mr Cole,’ Bligh booms. ‘Do all that lays in your power!’164

  ‘Mr Christian, give us the Long Boat,’165 Cole repeats yet one more time, and is quickly followed by Purcell.

  ‘Mr Christian, if you meant to turn us adrift in the boat,’ the Carpenter pleads, ‘let us have the Launch and not make a sacrifice of us.’166

  We will not be Mutineers. We wish to return to England, to our lives, our wives. Help us, Fletcher.

  All falls silent, as everyone waits on the decision by the man with the sweaty brow, Fletcher Christian.

  Drip, drip, drip …

  The sun beats down. The tension rises. The silence hangs heavier still.

  The fact that Christian has said nothing, the men know, means he is wavering. Purcell senses it, and now makes a cryptic comment that Bligh again notes, without understanding.

  ‘I have done nothing,’ Purcell says, ‘that I am ashamed or afraid of, I want to see my Native Country.’167

  Christian knows what he means: we helped you last night, to desert, not to mutiny. Now you must help us. We wish to see England once more.

  Finally, Christian makes his decision. He has begun this mutiny to defend his honour. And so, in the name of keeping that honour intact, he says in an almost defeated tone, ‘Hoist out the Launch, Mr Cole.’168

  He has decided to be generous, as he will later explain it, ‘not for Bligh’s sake, but for the safety of those that were going with him’.169

  Either way, it is done. The Loyalists, whoever they may be, have the Launch! It is possible, just possible, they will survive this, and return to England. Granted, the Launch is designed to hold just 13 men, and will provide them no shelter, but it has two masts for sails, and a rudder, and it is in much better condition than the Jolly Boat.

  Purcell takes it as a personal victory. If he makes it back home, it will be with a clean bill of health, at least from the point of view of treason.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ADRIFT ON THE HIGH SEAS

  If we fairly consider the different situations of a common sailor on board … and of a Tahitian on his island, we cannot blame the former if he attempted to rid himself of the numberless discomforts of a voyage around the world, and preferred an easy life, free from cares, in the happiest climate of the world, to the frequent vicissitudes which are entailed upon the mariner. The most favourable prospects of future success in England, which he might form an idea, could never be so flattering to his senses as the lowly hope of living like the meanest Tahitian … he must earn his subsistence in England, at the expense of labour, and by the sweat of his brow, when this oldest curse on mankind is scarcely felt at Tahiti.1

  German naturalist Johann Forster, who accompanied his father on James

  Cook’s second voyage, 1772–1775

  I can only conjecture that [the Mutineers] have ideally assured themselves of a more happy life among the Tahitians than they could possibly have in England, which joined to some female connection, has most likely been the leading cause of the whole business.2

  William Bligh, journal entry, 28 April 1789

  The gallant Chief within his cabin slept,

  Secure in those by whom the watch was kept:

  His dreams were of old England’s welcome shore,

  Of toils rewarded, and of danger o’er;

  …

  The worst was over, and the rest seemed sure,

  And why should not his slumber be secure?

  Alas! his deck was trod by unwilling feet,

  And wilder hands would hold the vessel’s sheet;

  Young hearts, which languished for some sunny isle,

  Where summer years and summer women smile;

  Men without country, who, too long estranged,

  Had found no native home, or found it changed,

  And, half uncivilised, preferred the cave

  Of some soft savage to the uncertain wave – 3

  Lord Byron, ‘The Island’

  Early morning, 28 April 1789, Bounty, A choice of deaths …

  After Bligh has been static under armed guard for well over an hour, all is now flurry, hurry and worry on what was once His Majesty’s Bounty, as the preparations continue for the Loyalists to depart on the Launch. Just who the Loyalists are, exactly, is still not quite clear – least of all to many of the men themselves, who must make the choice of their lives.

  And here is one such mystery man, Peter Heywood, who has only just been allowed up on deck. He turns numb with shock to see his Captain tightly bound and held at the end of Fletcher Christian’s glinting bayonet.

  It is like coming on deck and seeing a whale walking around, smoking a pipe and chatting with your grandmother – something so completely unbelievable, he can’t quite grasp it. But one thing is soon clear – he must choose between the Launch of Loyalists and HMS Mutiny.

  It is, he is certain, little more than ‘a choice of deaths’.4 Suddenly trembling, his mind turns homewards, to his cherished family; his sweet saintly mother, his dear sisters and brothers, all waiting for him. He is too young to die!

  All around him, others of the ship’s company who have not been involved with either side to this point must also make a snap decision. And there is no doubt which death is provin
g the more popular.

  The vast majority seek to go with … Bligh.

  To Christian’s equal amazement and crushing disappointment, all of Norton, Linkletter, Lebogue, Hall, Ledward, Simpson, Elphinstone, his fellow Master’s Mate, and more, are carrying their hastily packed, bulging kits up from their berths and pushing forward to the gangway – for there is a cluttered crowd there – to climb down the rope ladder one last time, and clamber into the Launch. Originally, Christian had planned on just four men leaving the Bounty – Bligh, Hayward, Hallett and Samuel. But now it seems nearly half the ship, and maybe over half, is prepared to leave the relative comfort and immediate safety of the Bounty to go with the infernal Bligh in the Launch.

  It is a slap in the face to Christian, and a strong one.

  And yet, the truth is, it is not personal.

  However high their regard for Christian as a man, however deep their disdain for Captain Bligh, there is no way around the fact that staying on the Bounty means never seeing England again, never getting back to home and hearth, never again seeing their wives, their children, their wider family and friends. And there is equally no doubt that to choose, and to be seen to choose, to stay with Christian means betraying the Admiralty, the Country, and King George III. It means they risk ending their lives early, and in disgrace, dangling from the end of a rope. Yes, by choosing to go in the Launch, they may perish – either at sea, or on an island – but at least they will go to their graves as men loyal to England and their families.

  Bligh smiles in satisfaction to see the shock, the disappointment, on Christian’s face as, one by one, the Loyalists step forward and ask permission to climb down into the Launch – each departure a further rebuke to the leading Mutineer, and his hasty mutiny.

  Fletcher Christian is deeply affected.

  ‘Something more than fear,’ he would recount, ‘had possessed them to suffer themselves to be sent away in such a manner.’5

  •

  It is not as if all the Mutineers are altogether unreasonable.

  When Fryer makes the point to the two guarding him that, as he is being guarded in any case, he may as well be guarded in the cockpit, where Peckover and Nelson are now being held prisoner, they agree!

  In the cockpit, Fryer finds Nelson fretting.

  ‘Mr. Fryer,’ says the botanist, ‘what have we brought on ourselves?’6

  For his part, Peckover, the saltiest man on board, is more disposed to action than reflection.

  ‘What is best to be done, Mr. Fryer?’7

  ‘What do you mean to do for the best?’8 replies Fryer.

  ‘I wish to get home if I possibly can,’9 replies Peckover. It is his way of saying, he does not wish to stay on the Bounty, as it is clear to him, just as it is to the Loyalists climbing down into the Launch, that under Christian it can be bound for England no more.

  Take heart, gentlemen. Quietly, ever stoical, Fryer confides to them the conversation he has had with Captain Bligh, and his own plans to stay on the ship, seize back control when the opportunity arises and find the marooned Bligh.

  ‘I flatter myself,’ Fryer says confidently, ‘that we shall recover the Ship in a short time.’10

  Peckover furrows his greying brow with concern:

  ‘[Surely] by staying behind we should be reckoned as Pirates, if we should ever be taken.’11

  ‘No,’ Fryer reassures him, ‘I will answer for you and everyone that will join with me.’12

  Nearby, in the bread-room, Mutineer Henry Hillbrant is fetching some bread to put in the boat – mutineers, not murderers – when he happens to … hear every word Fryer and Peckover utter. A rebellion in the midst of the rebellion! Forgetting the bread, he rushes up on deck and, breathless, repeats the conversation to Christian in his heavy German accent. Within seconds, Fryer is being escorted back to his cabin by his armed guard, and they have news for him.

  ‘Christian,’ they tell him, ‘has consented to give Captain Bligh the Launch, not for his sake but the safety of those who are going with him.’13

  ‘Do you know who is going into the Boat with Captain Bligh?’14 Fryer asks the guard.

  ‘No, but I believe a great many,’15 is the reply.

  A ‘great many’? Only an hour ago, there had only been three men due to go with Bligh. But now the numbers have swelled enormously. That is a good sign. He hopes.

  Or is it?

  How many can the Launch hold exactly?

  •

  As Bligh’s servant John Smith appears on deck bearing a bottle of rum from his Captain’s cabin as ordered, Captain Fletcher Christian is the first to take a deep swig. Christian orders John Smith to offer a dram to all Mutineers. Well, this will be interesting. Bligh observes closely all those who take this criminal communion, deciding to devote all his energies from this point forth to surviving long enough to see each man who drinks with the Devil hanged.

  You, Billy McCoy, drink hearty while you may, for you will hang, as will you, John Williams, Thomas Burkett and John Millward and yes, even young Monkey Ellison – perhaps the cruellest cut of all. Oh how busy is John Smith, now the rum steward to traitors, as he continues to serve drams hither and yon, finally ending up near the small Cutter where Morrison is collecting up yams to be handed down to the Launch.

  (The irony is more excruciating than exquisite. The very yams designated by Bligh as punishment for his officers are now being gathered up to be put in the Launch as Bligh’s new staple diet. Let him eat yams!)

  Sweating profusely, exhausted by the events of the morning, Morrison looks longingly at the rum, and licks his parched lips.

  ‘You may as well have a drop, Morrison,’ says Smith. ‘Though I am ordered to serve none but the sentinels.’16

  Taking the cup, Morrison throws a slug of restorative rum down his throat, unaware that Bligh, from this point forth, has marked him down on his list of those deserving Eternal Damnation.

  Now walking out of Bligh’s sight, towards the windlass, Smith comes across young Peter Heywood, his back turned, hands in pockets, staring out at the distant horizon.

  ‘Rum, Mr Heywood?’

  ‘I refuse,’17 Heywood replies firmly, his decision now taken, albeit unseen and unheard by Captain Bligh who simply presumes that, as Heywood is the best friend of his fellow Manxman, Fletcher Christian, he must have been in on the plot all along.

  For, now that Bligh thinks of it (and his mind will think of little else for some time to come), just whose names were on that list of Churchill’s when he deserted? He can see it now:

  Fletcher Christian, Peter Heywood …

  How foolish he had been not to see the truth then and there. Christian, Churchill and Heywood were in cahoots from the beginning! No doubt it was they who slashed the cable, in an attempt to cast the ship adrift, back in Tahiti, with their purpose of remaining there, ‘effectually answered, without danger, if the ship had been driven on shore’.18 All those signs, and he has missed them all. Damnation, he has been humbugged!

  •

  Like a mini water-spout, Purcell, that most unlikely of Loyalists, moves all over the Bounty, picking up whatever he can, whatever may prove to be of any use to a group of sailors floating in a little tub in the middle of the ocean, as well as giving out orders.

  ‘McIntosh, Norman,’ he says, ‘fill a bucket of nails of different sizes, and hand a crosscut and whip saw out of the storeroom.’19

  Yes, Mr Purcell.

  Heading to his own cabin next, he gathers a looking glass and some trinkets which he puts in his wooden clothes chest. He lugs the chest awkwardly up the ladder and onto the deck, then hands it down to the men already in the Launch.

  Still there is more. Mr Purcell also lowers down ‘Boats’ Sails, a lower Studding Sail, Twine, Remnants of Canvas’,20 before getting to the most precious thing of all. That, of course, is his precious tool chest. He begins to lower it … eeeasy, lads, slooowly … only to be stopped by the rough and chomping Quintal.

  ‘Damn me, if
we let them have those things they will build a Vessel in a month!’21 he says to his fellow Mutineers.

  Churchill both roughly agrees, and agrees roughly – viciously barking that Purcell’s tool chest must be returned on deck, or there will be trouble. In an instant it is returned and Churchill quickly opens it, rifling through and removing the best of the tools. Purcell, as fiercely territorial as ever defending the privileges and property of the Carpenter, himself – Mutiny or no mutiny, these tools are mine and anybody who tries to lay even a finger on them, will answer to me, even if he is carrying a loaded musket – grows red with rage.

  •

  Meanwhile, Bligh’s clerk, Samuel, is securing as many of the Captain’s instruments, charts and papers as he can. Dropping the first bundle on the deck, he heads back to Bligh’s cabin to collect more when Christian barks at him: ‘You are forbidden, on pain of death, to touch either map, ephemeris, book of astronomical observations, sextant, time-keeper, or any surveys or drawings.’22

  Overhearing, Bligh reels, ashen-faced. In a day of infamy, this is one of the cruellest cuts of all. To not have his precious charts, the very ones he had drawn so carefully on Captain Cook’s last voyage of the South Pacific, as well as his latest from this voyage – they are no less than the better part of his life’s work – is an unimaginable horror, an irrecoverable loss. As to the loss of instruments, they will render him little more than a blind man on the oceans.

  Of course Bligh remonstrates, providing a distraction that allows Samuel to rush below. Rifling through Bligh’s various papers, he finds gold. On the reckoning that Fletcher Christian made no mention of the current Log, he tucks it into the bundle and goes on deck once more. Bligh sighs with relief just to see the Log poking out the side of the roughly wrapped parcel – without it, he has no precious documentary proof of what he has done.

  ‘My honour and character might have been suspected,’ he would later write, ‘without my possessing a proper document to have defended them.’23

  There are a few other things in the parcel, though, that the dutiful Samuel does not manage to slip past the guard-dogs on deck.