Part 15

Captain Bligh discovered, when he came upon deck, several of the crew and most of the officers pinioned; and while he was thus contemplating their perilous state, the ship’s boat was let over her side, and all who were not on the part of the conspirators, to the number of nineteen besides the captain, were committed to the boat, and no other nourishment afforded to them than about 140 lbs. of bread, 30 lbs. of meat, one gallon and a half of rum, a like portion of wine, and a few gallons of water. A compass and quadrant were secured by one of these devoted victims as he was stepping into the boat; and thus abandoned, the mutineers, after giving them a cheer, stood away, as they said, for Otaheite.[17] The captain, in the dreadful situation, found his boatswain, carpenter, gunner, surgeon’s mate, with Mr. Daniel Nelson, the botanist, and a few inferior officers, amongst those who were likely to share his fate. After a short consultation, it was deemed expedient to put back to the Friendly Islands: and accordingly they landed on one of these, in hopes they might improve their small stock of provisions, on the 30th of April, but were driven off by the natives two days after, and pursued with such hostility that one man was killed and several wounded. It was then deliberated whether they should return to Otaheite and throw themselves on the clemency of the natives, but the apprehension of falling in with the _Bounty_ determined them with one assent to make the best of their way to Timor; and to effect this enterprise—astonishing to relate!—they calculated the distance, near 4,000 miles, and in order that their wretched supply of provisions might endure till they reached the place of destination, they agreed to apportion their food to one ounce of bread and one gill of water a day for each man. No other nourishment did they receive till the 5th or 6th of June, when they made the coast of New Holland, and collected a few shell-fish; and with this scanty relief they held on their course to Timor, which they reached on the 12th, after having been forty-six days in a crazy, open boat, too confined in dimensions to suffer any of them to lie down for repose, and without the least awning to protect them from the rain, which almost incessantly fell for forty days. A heavy sea and squally weather for great part of their course augmented their misery. The governor of this settlement, which belonged to the Dutch, afforded them every succour they required. They remained here to recruit their strength and spirits till the 20th of August, when they procured a vessel to carry them to Batavia. They reached Batavia on the 2nd of October, and from thence Captain Bligh and two of the crew embarked for the Cape of Good Hope, and the rest of the crew were prepared to follow as soon as a passage could be obtained. Captain Bligh reached the Cape about the middle of December, and soon after took his passage for England, which he reached on the evening of the 13th of March, and arrived in London on the 14th. Bligh’s published narrative of this wonderful escape, the result of his own indomitable courage and perseverance, is a work elegantly written and full of the deepest interest. It well deserves a place by the side of the great fiction “Robinson Crusoe” and the true voyages of Captain Cook. Bligh’s own account of the landing at Timor is so graphic, that I cannot refrain from giving it here:—

“I now,” he writes, “desired my people to come on shore, which was as much as some of them could do, being scarce able to walk; they, however, were helped to the house, and found tea, with bread-and-butter, provided for their breakfast.

“The abilities of a painter, perhaps, could seldom have been displayed to more advantage, than in the delineation of the two groups of figures, which at this time presented themselves to each other. An indifferent spectator would have been at a loss which most to admire—the eyes of famine sparkling at immediate relief, or the horror of their preservers at the sight of so many spectres, whose ghastly countenances, if the cause had been unknown, would rather have excited terror than pity. Our bodies were nothing but skin and bones, our limbs were full of sores, and we were clothed in rags. In this condition, with the tears of joy and gratitude flowing down our cheeks, the people of Timor beheld us with a mixture of horror, surprise, and pity. The governor, Mr. William Adrian Van Este, notwithstanding extreme ill-health, became so anxious about us, that I saw him before the appointed time. He received me with great affection, and gave me the fullest proofs that he was possessed of every feeling of a humane and good man. Sorry as he was, he said, that such a calamity could ever have happened to us, yet he considered it was the greatest blessing of his life that we had fallen under his protection; and, though his infirmity was so great that he could not do the office of a friend himself, he would give such orders as I might be certain would procure us every supply we wanted. A house should be immediately prepared for me, and, with respect to my people, he said that I might have room for them either at the hospital or on board of Captain Spikerman’s ship, which lay in the road; and he expressed much uneasiness that Coupang (the Dutch capital in Timor) could not afford them better accommodations, the house assigned to me being the only one uninhabited, and the situation of the few families that lived at this place such that they could not conveniently receive strangers. For the present, till matters could be properly regulated, he gave directions that victuals for my people should be dressed at his own house.

“On returning to Captain Spikerman’s house, I found that every kind relief had been given to my people. The surgeon had dressed their sores, and the cleaning of their persons had not been less attended to, several friendly gifts of apparel having been presented to them. I desired to be shown to the house that was intended for me, which I found ready, with servants to attend. It consisted of a hall, with a room at each end, and a loft over-head, and was surrounded by a piazza, with an outer apartment in one corner, and a communication at the back part of the house to the street. I therefore determined, instead of separating from my people, to lodge them all with me, and I divided the house as follows:—One room I took to myself, the other I allotted to the master-surgeon, Mr. Nelson, and the gunner; the loft to the other officers, and the outer apartment to the men. The hall was common to the officers, and the men had the back piazza. Of this disposition I informed the governor, and he sent down chairs, tables, and benches, with bedding and other necessaries for the use of every one.

“The governor, when I took my leave, had desired me to acquaint him with everything of which I stood in need; but it was only at particular times that he had a few moments of ease, or could attend to anything, being in a dying state with an incurable disease. On this account I transacted whatever business I had with Mr. Timotheus Wanjon, the second of this place, who was the governor’s son-in-law, and who also contributed everything in his power to make our situation comfortable. I had been, therefore, misinformed by the seaman, who told me that Captain Spikerman was the next person in command to the governor.

“At noon a dinner was brought to the house, sufficiently good to make persons, more accustomed to plenty, eat too much. Yet, I believe, few in such a condition would have observed more moderation than my people did. My greatest apprehension was, that they would eat too much fruit, of which there was great variety in season at this time.

“Having seen every one enjoy this meal of plenty, I dined myself with Mr. Wanjon; but I felt no extraordinary inclination to eat or drink. Rest and quiet I considered as more necessary to the re-establishment of my health, and, therefore, retired soon to my room, which I found furnished with every convenience. But, instead of rest, my mind was disposed to reflect on our late sufferings, and on the failure of the expedition; but, above all, on the thanks due to Almighty God, who had given us power to support and bear such heavy calamities, and had enabled me at last to be the means of saving eighteen lives.”

All, however, did not live to reach England. David Nelson, the botanist, died at Coupang, of fever, brought on by fatigue. Elphinstone, the master’s mate, and two seamen, Hull and Linkletter, died at Batavia; Robert Lamb and Mr. Ledward, the surgeon, were lost on the return passage. “Thus,” concludes Bligh, “of nineteen who were forced by the mutineers into the launch, it has pleased God that twelve should surmount the difficulties and dangers of the voyage, and live to revisit their native country.”

To now return to the mutineers.

They, to the number of twenty-five, after getting rid of the captain and his adherents, sailed back, in the _Bounty_, to Otaheite, but on landing there, Christian and eight of his comrades, in dread of the offended majesty of the British Admiralty, sought a safer refuge in the neighbouring Pacific Island of Pitcairn. From what ensued, the names of Christian’s eight followers should be recorded. They were Edward Young, midshipman; John Mills, gunner’s mate; Matthew Quintal, seaman; William McCoy, seaman; ALEXANDER SMITH, otherwise JOHN ADAMS, seaman; John Williams, seaman; Isaac Martin, seaman; and William Brown, gardener. When the _Bounty_ reached Pitcairn’s Island she had on board these nine of the crew, with nine Otaheitan women; six Otaheitan men, three of whom had wives; and a little girl, who afterwards became the wife of Charles Christian, of the family of Fletcher. They burnt the _Bounty_ after arriving at Pitcairn’s Island.

They had not, writes the Rev. Mr. Murray, in his admirable account of Pitcairn, long set foot on the island, ere it became a stage for the display of every evil passion. They were “hateful, and hating one another.” During the frightful period of domestic warfare between the Europeans and the blacks, in which the former often adopted the tremendously simple rule of might against right, the blacks made common cause together; and having planned the murder of their imperious masters, they went, from time to time, into the woods to practise shooting at a mark, and thus became tolerably good marksmen. Their murderous plot reached the ears of the wives of the mutineers; and the females are said to have disclosed it to their husbands, just before the time appointed for the massacre, by adding to one of their songs these words, “Why does black man sharpen axe? To kill white man.”

In the course of the deadly struggles occurring between the several parties, Christian, Mills, Williams, Martin, and Brown, were murdered in the year 1793, by the Otaheitan men, whom they had brought to the island with them. Christian was the first to fall a victim to their revenge. Mills was the next. Adams was shot, the ball entering at his shoulder and coming out at his neck. He fell; but suddenly sprang up and ran. They caught him; and a blow was aimed at his head with the butt-end of a musket. This he warded off with his hand, having his finger broken by the blow. On his again escaping, he ran down the rocks toward the sea; but his pursuers called out to him, that if he would return, he should not be hurt. He returned accordingly, and they troubled him no more. All the Otaheitan men were killed in the same year, one of them having been destroyed by Young’s wife, with an axe. As soon as she had killed the last survivor but one of the Otaheitans, she gave a signal to her husband to fire upon the remaining black, which was done with fatal precision. This woman, Susannah, who afterwards married Thursday October Christian, Fletcher Christian’s son, died at an advanced age, in the year 1850. She was the last survivor of the _Bounty_.

But other horrors remained behind. In 1798, M‘Coy, in a fit of _delirium tremens_, brought on by drunkenness, having thrown himself from the rocks into the sea, was drowned. Quintal, a violent and headstrong man, after threatening the lives of his companions, was killed by Young and Adams, who, in 1799, took away his life with an axe, in self-defence. Thus, six of the mutineers were murdered, and one committed suicide. Edward Young died of asthma, in 1800. Adams, as has been seen, was severely wounded in one of the contests that took place, but had recovered. Only two of the fifteen men who had landed from the _Bounty_ (Young and Adams) died a natural death. The news of the mutiny and the sufferings of Bligh excited a great sensation in England. Bligh was at once made a commander; and Captain Edwards was forthwith dispatched to Otaheite, in Her Majesty’s ship _Pandora_, to search for the _Bounty_, and to arrest and bring back to England the mutinous crew. The _Pandora_ reached Otaheite the 23rd March, 1791, and before the vessel anchored, Coleman, the armourer of the _Bounty_, came in a canoe, and gave himself up. Two days afterwards the whole of the crew of the _Bounty_, who had stayed at Otaheite, surrendered themselves, with the exception of two, who fled to the mountains, and were murdered by the natives.

After a tempestuous voyage and a shipwreck, in which four of his prisoners perished, Captain Edwards succeeded in bringing ten of the mutineers to England. These were tried by court-martial.

By the 15th article of war, statute 22 George II., cap. 33, every person in, or belonging to, the fleet, who shall run away with any of His Majesty’s ships or vessels of war, shall, on being convicted of such offence, by the sentence of the court-martial, suffer death; and by the 16th article of war of the same statute, 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: and by the 19th article of war of the same statute, if any person in, or belonging to, the fleet, shall make, or endeavour to make, any mutinous assembly, upon any pretence whatever, every person offending herein, and being convicted thereof by the sentence of the court-martial, shall suffer death.

The court-martial in this case was held at Portsmouth, on board His Majesty’s ship _Duke_, on the 12th September, 1792. Vice-Admiral Lord Hood was the President. The officers who sat at the trial were Captains Sir A. S. Hamond, Bart., John Colpoys, Sir George Montagu, Sir Roger Curtis, John Bazeley, Sir Andrew S. Douglas, John T. Duckworth, John N. Inglefield, John Knight, Albemarle Bertie, (afterwards Admiral of the White, K.B., and a Baronet), and R. G. Keats.

The names of the ten prisoners, capitally charged with mutiny and piracy, were Peter Heywood, James Morrison, Thomas Ellison, Thomas Burkitt, John Millward, William Muspratt, Charles Norman, Joseph Coleman, Thomas M^cIntosh, and Michael Byrne.

The trial was concluded on the sixth day, the 18th of September, when the prisoners were brought in. The court having agreed that the charges of running away with the ship and deserting His Majesty’s service had been proved against six of the prisoners, they found Heywood, Morrison, Ellison, Burkitt, Millward, and Muspratt _guilty_, and adjudged them to suffer death by being hanged by the neck on board one of His Majesty’s ships-of-war. The court acquitted Norman, Coleman, McIntosh, and Byrne, and recommended Peter Heywood and James Morrison to His Majesty’s mercy.

On the 24th of October, 1792, the royal warrant was dispatched, granting a free pardon to Heywood (he died a captain, R.N., the 10th of February, 1831) and to Morrison, with a respite for Muspratt. At the same time was sent a warrant for executing Burkitt, Ellison, and Millward. Muspratt was afterwards pardoned. Millward and Muspratt, with Churchill, were the men who had been deserters at Otaheite, and who had been forgiven by Bligh for that offence. Burkitt had been forward in the mutiny on board the _Bounty_. Ellison was a mere boy on the occasion of that act of violence; he is thus described in the list forwarded from Batavia in October, 1789:—“Thomas Ellison, seaman, aged seventeen years, five feet three inches high, fair complexion, dark hair, strong made; has got his name tattooed on his right arm, and dated October 25, 1788.”

Morrison, before his connection with the _Bounty_, had served in the navy as a midshipman, and, after his pardon, had been appointed gunner of the _Blenheim_, in which he perished with Admiral Sir Thomas Troubridge. In a violent gale on the 1st of February, 1807, that vessel was lost, with all the passengers and crew on her way from Madras to the Cape of Good Hope.

Burkitt, Ellison and Millward were executed, pursuant to their sentence, on the 26th of October, 1792, on board the ship _Brunswick_, in Portsmouth Harbour. Captain Hammond reported that the criminals had behaved with great penitence and decorum, had acknowledged the justice of their sentence, and exhorted their fellow-sailors to take warning by their untimely fate, enjoining them, whatever might be their hardships, never to forget their obedience to their officers, but to remember the duty which they owed to their king and country. The captain said that a party from each ship in the harbour, and at Spithead, had attended the execution; and that from the accounts he had received, the example seems to have made a salutary impression on the minds of all the ships’ companies present.

More than sixteen years elapsed after that act of justice before aught more was heard of the remaining mutineers of the _Bounty_, when, in 1808, the captain of an American schooner, by chance wintering at Pitcairn’s Island, made the wonderful discovery thus narrated by himself:—

“We left the friendly Marquesans on the 2nd of September, and were proceeding on our voyage, to regain the port of Valparaiso, steering a course which ought, according to the charts, and every other authority, to have carried us nearly three degrees of longitude to the eastward of Pitcairn’s Island, our surprise was greatly excited by its sudden appearance; it was in the second watch that we made it. At daylight we proceeded to a more close examination, and soon perceived huts, cultivation, and people; of the latter, some were making signs, others launching their little canoes through the surf, into which they threw themselves with great dexterity, and pulled towards us.

“At this moment, I believe, neither Captain Bligh (of the _Bounty_) nor Christian had entered any of our thoughts; and in waiting the approach of strangers, we prepared to ask them some questions in the language of those people we had so recently left. They approached us; and for me to picture the wonder which was conspicuous in every countenance at being hailed in perfect English, ‘What was the name of the ship, and who commanded her?’ would be impossible; our surprise can alone be conceived. The captain answered, and now a regular conversation commenced. He requested them to come alongside, and the reply was, ‘We have no boat-hook to hold on by.’ ‘I will throw you a rope.’ ‘If you do we have nothing to make it fast to.’ was the answer. However, they at length came on board, exemplifying not the least fear, but their astonishment was unbounded. After the friendly salutation of ‘Good morrow, sir,’ from the first man who entered, Mackay, for that was his name, said, ‘Do you know one William Bligh in England?’ This question threw a new light on the subject, and he was immediately asked ‘If he knew one Christian?’ and the reply was given with so much natural simplicity, that I shall here use his own words: ‘Oh, yes,’ said he, ‘very well; his son is in the boat there, coming up; his name is Friday Fletcher October Christian; his father is dead now—he was shot by a black fellow.’ Several of them had now reached the ship, and the scene was become exceedingly interesting; every one betrayed the greatest anxiety to know the ultimate fate of that misled young man, of whose end so many vague reports had been in circulation, and those who did not ask questions, devoured with avidity every word which led to an elucidation of the mysterious termination of the unfortunate _Bounty_.

“Christian was shot by a black fellow—it was supposed through a jealousy which was known to exist between the people of Otaheite and the English; he was shot while at work in the yam plantation; the man who shot Christian was afterwards shot by an Englishman. A further dispute arose between the Otaheitans and English after the death of Christian, when the blacks rose and shot two Englishmen and wounded John Adams, the only surviving man of the mutineers, who saved himself from being murdered by hiding himself in the wood; and the same night the women, enraged by the murder of the English, to whom they were more partial than their countrymen, rose and put every Otaheitan to death in his sleep. This saved Adams. His wounds were soon healed; and, although old, he enjoys good health. Christian brought with him from Otaheite, in the _Bounty_, nine white men, six blacks, and eleven women; and at that time there were forty-eight persons on the island. Adams had told them he had been on the island about twenty-five years; that the _Bounty_ was run on shore, and everything useful taken out of her, and then set fire to and burnt. Christian was shot about two years after he came to the island, his wife having died soon after the birth of his son; and he taking by force the wife of one of the blacks to supply her place, was the chief cause of his being shot; and his son, Friday Fletcher October Christian, was the oldest person on the island, except John Adams. They were allowed to marry at the age of nineteen or twenty, but not to have more than one wife, as it was considered wicked to have more; and being asked if they had been taught any religion, they answered, ‘A very good religion,’ and to their credit they went through the whole of the Belief, and said that John Adams had taught it them by order of F. Christian; and he caused a prayer to be said every day at noon: ‘I will arise and go to my father, and say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son,’ which they continued to say every day, and never neglected it.

“John Adams was a fine-looking old man, approaching to sixty years of age. We conversed with him a long time relative to the mutiny of the _Bounty_ and the ultimate fate of Christian; he denied being accessary to, or having the least knowledge of, the conspiracy.