LAND APPEARED BEFORE US once again today and as usual we all felt a great start of joy at the possibility of leaving the tub and enjoying rest and sustenance. All four rowers automatically began to turn their oars in the direction of the island, but immediately sensing the turn the captain gave a great holler and told them in no uncertain terms to maintain their course.
‘But, Captain,’ said William Cole in exasperation, pointing eastwards in the direction of the land. ‘Haven’t you seen the island?’
‘Of course I’ve seen it, Mr Cole,’ snapped the captain. ‘I have two eyes in my head and I haven’t gone blind, you know. But we must be wary. Let us take a tour around the coastline first before venturing further in.’
Our spirits sank a little, but Mr Bligh had to be obeyed, so the rowers turned again and set about circling the island, which lay a good distance from us yet.
‘Where are we, Mr Bligh?’ asked George Simpson. ‘Have you visited here before?’
‘I believe these are the Feejee Islands,’ he proclaimed. ‘And, yes, I was here once before with the captain.’ His reference was to Captain Cook, of course, as all such references were. ‘But we must take care. There are friendly natives of Feejee and some not so friendly ones. Cannibals and the like.’
My heart gave a jump at the sound of that word and it put me in mind of what Mr Lamb had told me before about the ways of the people at this area of the world. I had travelled a long way from Portsmouth and been through many adventures in sixteen months and I was damned if I was going to end up as a luncheon feast for a group of savages. As much as I wanted to lie on the beach and exercise my limbs once again, I started to wonder whether we were not much safer staying in our little craft.
‘Captain,’ said Mr Elphinstone, ‘look yonder.’
We each of us looked in the direction that he had indicated and what did we see, only a group of natives taking canoes to the shoreline, pushing them into the water and setting out in our direction.
‘Ah,’ said the captain, frowning. ‘I was afraid of this.’
‘What’s happening, Mr Bligh?’ I shouted. ‘Are they a welcoming party?’
‘None that we would like to meet, I would warrant,’ he replied. ‘Oarsmen, turn again, we continue on our travels.’
A great cry went up among those men who were willing to risk their lives for a chance to land the boat. I looked back at the shore and two canoes were rowing towards us, each filled with four men, a lesser number than our cargo.
‘There’s only nine of them, sir,’ said I. ‘We are eighteen.’
‘There’s eight of them, Turnip, you young fool,’ said Mr Elphinstone. ‘Don’t you know your two times tables?’
‘Eight, then,’ I said, irritated by his pedantry, for after all it only made my point more valid. ‘Less than a third of our number!’
‘Less than a third!’ snapped Mr Elphinstone again and was about to say more, only he was interrupted by the captain.
‘Where there are eight there will be eighty more,’ he said. ‘Row fast, men. We continue on our voyage. They will stop giving chase soon enough.’
He was right on that, for within a very few minutes the two canoes slowed down until they were simply bobbing along in the water and four of the men, the central parties on either canoe, stood up and waved spears at us, spears that might have been intended to hold us on a skewer over an open fire.
‘Don’t look so downhearted, men,’ said the captain. ‘We shall find somewhere safe. We have done well so far, have we not?’
‘But when, sir?’ asked Surgeon Ledward, a great strain entering his voice now, as if he was a child who had been denied his rattle. ‘Do we even know the direction we are heading? We have no maps, after all.’
‘Our maps are up here, Surgeon,’ replied the captain, tapping his bonce. ‘My memory is all we need. You forget to whom you are speaking.’
‘I forget nothing, sir, and I meant no disrespect. I only say that we cannot sail like this indefinitely.’
A low murmur went up among the crew and the captain peered round at all of us with a certain look of displeasure on his face. It wasn’t that he was fearing another mutiny – after all there was no way to mutiny now, short of throwing him overboard, and that would hardly be helpful to our cause – but that he knew low spirits were the greatest enemy we could have. Savages, cannibals, murderers, they were one thing. A lack of belief that we would survive was something else entirely.
‘We continue westward,’ said the captain. ‘And on to the New Hebrides islands. I can picture them in my mind, men. They are there before us. I know they are. And from there we aim for the Endeavour Strait at the tip of Northern Australia. An isolated place, yes, but we can regroup there before making the final sailing to Timor. We will find friends in Timor and a safe passage home. I can picture the waters as clear as I can picture the face of my wife and children, men. And the thought of seeing them again is what spurs me on. But I need you with me, sailors. Are you with me?’
‘Aye, Captain,’ we all cried halfheartedly.
‘I said are you with me, men?’
‘Aye!’ we roared, more happily, and to our delight the heavens opened at that moment and a great rain fell that allowed us to refill our flagons and open our mouths to the heavens until we were hydrated once again. It felt for a moment as if the Saviour himself was on our side.