JOHN JACOB TURNSTILE, prize fool. I’ll be damned if I know what came over me.
Although I’d had precious little time to consider my options, it had been my intention during the whole sorry mess to stay on board the Bounty and return to the island with the mutineers. It’s true I could barely stand any of them, and considered them a fine set of cowards and scoundrels to have behaved in such a fashion towards a man as decent as the captain, but I did not believe that I harboured sufficient loyalties to any man or cause to look after the well-being of a single creature other than John Jacob Turnstile himself. Throughout the prosecution of the whole palaver, I thought that once we were back on Otaheite I could fashion a craft of my own and set out, travelling island by island, in search of a better life and a happier world. And instead I cheeked Mr Christian, thumped Mr Heywood and ended up as a passenger of one of the Bounty‘s launches on a cold, dark night, certain of nothing other than the surety of my approaching demise.
There were nineteen of us, all told. Of the officers, only Mr Fryer, Mr Elphinstone and the captain himself were present. Surgeon Ledward was with us, and the botanist Mr Nelson. The quartermasters, John Norton and Peter Linkletter, had both seen fit to remain loyal to Mr Bligh, but as we had no lines to stow or cables to reel, their regular employments would be of little use. I noticed the cook, Mr Hall, sitting at the side with a panicked expression upon his face and wondered which of us he would fillet first. The butcher, Mr Lamb, was no great navigator. Nor was the carpenter, Mr Purcell. And nor, for that matter, was I. We did not have a single AB among our unhappy number; every one of those rough fellows was already on his way back to make merry with the women of Otaheite.
As we were cut free from the ship, the men who had once been afeared of the captain whistled at him and called him base names, and I felt my gorge rise with anger at the dirt of it. It was a low thing, a very low thing indeed, to set other Christian men off to their certain deaths in a boat in the middle of the night, but it was a worse thing to take a pleasure in it. The captain, for his part, seemed unperturbed and rose not to their taunts, for such was his dignified way. I watched him and he seemed oblivious to the whole thing, as if this was simply another part of the voyage home. His narrowed eyes were darting back and forth, staring into the black night as if he could espy a white line appearing through it that would lead us safely back to England, and I swear it was as if he was reading a map in the darkness of the night.
As our launch drifted away from the Bounty I heard a loud sound of splashing behind us and when I turned I could see by the fire-torches that the pirates were engaged in a commotion at the rear of the ship, pouring a discharge through the very portholes I had walked past a thousand times as I made my way towards the captain’s cabin. The discharge was accompanied by a heavy thudding sound and great cheers from the men on deck.
‘What are they doing?’ I asked Mr Nelson, the botanist, who rose to his feet a little and narrowed his eyes for a better observance. ‘It’s as if they’re throwing away the ship’s fine things.’
‘It’s more precious than that, Turnip,’ said he, shaking his head and locking his jaw in anger. ‘Can’t you see? It’s the breadfruit. Those dogs are drowning them in the sea.’
My mouth dropped open in surprise and I turned to face the captain, but the light had grown so low now that I could only make out the bulk of his person as he shifted in his seat and stared; his demeanour was hidden from me.
‘That’s a crime,’ I shouted, appalled by it. ‘A terrible crime after all we have been through. Why did we come here, after all, if it wasn’t for them? Why did we risk our lives, again and again? Why are we left out here in the middle of this blessed ocean if it wasn’t on account of them damnable breadfruit?’
A low, thunderous snorting sound emerged from Mr Nelson’s mouth and I swear that I had never seem him look so angered. He had always been a most mild-mannered fellow, happy to have his nose in a set of leaves. For him to see the plants that he had nurtured so carefully be thrown to their demise in such a careless fashion was enough to make him want to dive overboard, swim back to the ship, and have at every man there in hand-to-hand combat.
‘They’ll be hanged!’ I heard one man say from the other side of the launch; I knew not who.
‘Every one of them will face justice,’ said another.
‘We won’t see it if they do,’ came a low voice that I knew to be that of Mr Hall. ‘We’ll be at the bottom of the sea, a fine supper for the fish.’
‘That’s enough of that,’ said Mr Fryer, his voice uncertain now as he considered what lay ahead, but his very words were echoed by the captain who snapped them out, not so much in anger but in a desire to have our attention.
‘Hold your tongue, Mr Hall,’ said he. ‘Their punishment, and they will receive one, you can mark that, is not our concern for now. We have a calm night at the moment. We may not have many more ahead of us. Keep the launch steady while I think. I am still your captain. I will bring us to safety. You must have faith.’
The men said nothing, but in truth there was nothing for us to say; the waves were as placid as they had ever been and in that moment I began to think that perhaps we did not have as much to worry about as I had previously thought; and, believing that the next day would bring a solution to our problem and a quick return to civilization, I did the only thing that I could think of that would be of any use under the circumstances.
I lay back, closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep.