Part 15

“No man lives too long, who lives to do with spirit, and suffer with resignation, what Providence pleases to command, or inflict; but, indeed, they are sharp incommodities which beset old age. It was but the other day that, on putting in order some things which had been brought here on my taking leave of London for ever, I looked over a number of fine portraits, most of them of persons now dead, but whose society, in my better days, made this (Beaconsfield) a proud and happy place. Among these was the picture of Lord Keppel. It was painted by an artist worthy of the subject (Sir Joshua Reynolds), the excellent friend of that excellent man from their earliest youth, and a common friend of us both, with whom we lived for many years without a moment of coldness, of peevishness, of jealousy, or of jar, to the day of our final separation. I ever looked on Lord Keppel as one of the greatest and best men of his age; and I loved and cultivated him accordingly. He was much in my heart, and I believe I was in his, to the very last beat. It was at his trial at Portsmouth that he gave me this picture. With what zeal and anxious affection I attended him through that his agony of glory, what part my son took in the early flush and enthusiasm of his virtue, and the pious passion with which he attached himself to all my connections; with what prodigality we both squandered ourselves in courting almost every sort of enmity for his sake, I believe he felt, just as I should have felt such friendship on such an occasion. I partook, indeed, of this honour, with several of the first, and best, and ablest in the kingdom, but I was behindhand with none of them; and I am sure that if, to the eternal disgrace of this nation, and to the total annihilation of every trace of honour and virtue in it, things had taken a different turn from what they did, I should have attended him to the quarterdeck with no less good will and more pride, though with far other feelings, than I partook in the general flow of national joy that attended the justice that was done to his virtue. Pardon, my lord, the feeble garrulity of age, which loves to diffuse itself in discourse of the departed great. At my years we live in retrospect alone; and, wholly unfitted for the society of vigorous life, we enjoy, the best balm to all wounds, the consolation of friendship, in those only whom we have lost for ever.”

THE MUTINY OF THE “BOUNTY.”

The outrageous act of insubordination on open sea, known as “The Mutiny of the _Bounty_,” has proved, from the lasting interest it has excited, and from its extraordinary results, one of the most wonderful events in the annals of our navy. The memory of the foul crime has flourished, not only in tales, dramas, and poetry, but in the very good that Providence worked out of it. Pitcairn’s Island, where the mutineers and their descendants settled, and Norfolk Island, whither the latter have removed, are models of civilisation to the whole Polynesian world. In poetry, the Mutiny has been done the highest, and, indeed, the unfairest honour. Lord Byron’s magnificent production, “The Island; or, Christian and his Comrades,” has converted the guilty mutineers into a band of heroes; and his lordship, with a morbid taste for criminals of the corsair stamp, has thrown a glow of chivalry over deeds which deserved only the whipping post and the gallows. He, too, passes over, in a very few impressive lines, the great and real heroism of the whole affair—a heroism that deserved an Odyssey for its record. I allude to the conduct of Captain, afterwards Admiral, William Bligh, a seaman, illustrious in consequence, who, when his mutinous crew cast him and nineteen others adrift in an open boat, guided and cheered his associates with undaunted energy and perseverance, through a sail of more than 3,500 miles, until they arrived safe at the Dutch settlement, in the island of Timor, without losing more than one man. Lord Byron wrongfully compares with the Spartans of Thermopylæ, Christian and his comrades, who, with one or two exceptions, as they afterwards turned out, were murderous vagabonds merely. A far juster comparison would have been that of William Bligh and his companions in the open boat, with the unconquered spirits that defended the pass of Thermopylæ. The British navy ought well to be proud of the memory of Captain Bligh. Before proceeding to a summary of the mutiny, a word or two may be said biographically of the principal actors in the terrible transaction.

To begin with Bligh, a giant spirit in difficulty. He was a scion of the family to which belong the Earls of Darnley, and he was the grandson of Richard Bligh, Esq., of Tinten, near Bodmin, in Cornwall, and the son of William Bligh, Esq., by Jane, his wife. He was born at Bodmin in 1753, and received a home education. He went very early in life into the royal navy, and was soon remarked for his aptness and his steady and sensible performance of his duty. After passing his examination as lieutenant, he, on the understanding that his promotion should go on, went as sailing master, under Captain Cook, and was for four years with that great navigator, in the _Resolution_. In Cook’s history of his researches in the Southern Pacific, Bligh’s name frequently occurs. Bligh was a lieutenant when he was appointed to command the _Bounty_. He was a strict disciplinarian, but by no means a harsh or unamiable man. He would have his orders obeyed, but he, at the same time, was always studious of the comfort and happiness of the men under him. By his own family and by all his associates in his profession he was thoroughly beloved and respected.

Fletcher Christian, master’s mate on board the _Bounty_, and the chief and worst mutineer, was a man of good family and education, and had actually owed his advancement in the service to Captain Bligh. He was the brother of Professor Christian, Chief Justice of Ely, the well-known editor of “Blackstone’s Commentaries.”

Peter Heywood, a midshipman on board the _Bounty_, who joined the mutiny, and who, after being convicted and pardoned for it, redeemed his character and became a captain in the royal navy, was of a very respectable family, and was grandson of Mr. Heywood, Chief Justice of the Isle of Man. Peter Heywood was, no doubt, the Torquil of Lord Byron’s poem.

Edward Young, a midshipman, and another mutineer, was nephew of Admiral Sir George Young, Bart.

Alexander Smith, _alias_ John Adams, the most remarkable of the mutineers, and afterwards the famous patriarch of Pitcairn’s Island, was a sailor of the ordinary class.

David Nelson, the botanist, a credit to his great name, who sailed with and shared the perils of Bligh, was a man of much scientific knowledge. He had been in Captain Cook’s last voyage, and was appointed to the _Bounty_ on the recommendation of Sir Joseph Banks.

The circumstances of the mutiny were as follow:—

His Majesty’s ship _Bounty_, an armed vessel, was fitted out under the express desire of King George III., and sailed from England in the winter of 1787, commanded by Lieutenant Bligh, on a voyage to the Society Islands to gather bread-fruit trees, and to bring them for transplantation to the British West India settlements, in which climate, it was the opinion of Sir Joseph Banks, they might be successfully cultivated, and prove a succeedaneum for other provisions in times of scarcity.

The _Bounty_ actually departed on its voyage from Spithead on the 23rd December, 1787, and after having to change its first intended course by Cape Horn for the Cape of Good Hope, arrived at Otaheite, the chief of the Society Islands, on the 25th October, 1788. Here Bligh and his crew were received in the most friendly way by the gentle inhabitants of the island, and here they passed a delightful but too enervating period of five months and a half. The worst of it was, the charms of the place proved too strong a temptation for the seamen of the _Bounty_. The women of Otaheite had fascinated them to a degree that deprived them of all sense of right or duty. Well might a locality in the island be termed “Point Venus.” The whole territory seemed a Paphos, for in no savage land had there before ever been found women so beautiful, so agreeable, and so affectionate. I have it from one of Captain Bligh’s descendants, that the captain always attributed the mutiny solely to the irresistible desire of the crew to return to the society of the Otaheite women.

Byron, in his poem, agrees with Bligh in this view, and thus depicts Otaheite:—

“The gentle island, and the genial soil, The friendly hearts, the feasts without a toil, The courteous manners but from Nature caught, The wealth unhoarded, and the love unbought; Could these have charms for rudest sea-boys, driven Before the mast by every wind of heaven? And now, even now prepared with others’ woes To earn mild Virtue’s vain desire, repose?”

Byron’s description of the Otaheite girl, Neuha, gives a fair idea of the charms of the female population of Otaheite:—

“There sat the gentle savage of the wild, In growth a woman, though in years a child, As childhood dates within our colder clime, Where nought is ripen’d rapidly save crime; The infant of an infant world, as pure From Nature—lovely, warm, and premature, Dusky like night, but night with all her stars; Or cavern sparkling with its native spars; With eyes that were a language and a spell, A form like Aphrodite’s in her shell, With all her loves around her on the deep, Voluptuous as the first approach of sleep; Yet full of life—for through her tropic cheek The blush would make its way, and all but speak; The sun-born blood suffused her neck, and threw O’er her clear nut-brown skin a lucid hue, Like coral reddening through the darken’d wave, Which draws the diver to the crimson cave.”

A slight sign of a mutinous intention was shown at one time during the stay on the island. Charles Churchill, the ship’s corporal, and two seamen, William Musprat and John Millward, temporarily deserted; but, after some days’ search for them, they surrendered, and threw themselves on Bligh’s mercy. He generously, but not wisely, as it turned out, forgave them. Bligh had made good, however, the object of his voyage, so far as to have received on board a great number of the bread-fruit trees in various stages of growth, and there was every prospect of their being capable of preservation. The ship, thus laden, quitted Otaheite on the 4th of April, 1789, and continued her course in a westerly direction, touching at one more island, and then meditating her progress through the Pacific Ocean towards the Moluccas. The ship lost sight of the Friendly Islands on the 27th of that month, and everything like good order was supposed to prevail on board—even the mid-watch was relieved without the least apparent disorder; but at daybreak on the 28th, the cabin of Captain Bligh, who commanded the _Bounty_, was forcibly entered by the officer of the watch, Fletcher Christian, assisted by Churchill, Mills, and Burkitt, who dragged him instantly on the deck, menacing his life if he attempted to speak. His endeavour to exhort and bring back the conspirators to their duty proved of no avail. Each of the desperadoes was armed with a drawn cutlass or a fixed bayonet, and all their muskets were avowed to be charged.

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.”