DESPITE THE FACT that I had spent eighteen months in company with the ship’s master, Mr Fryer, I had enjoyed little conversation with him. He had been welcoming of me on my first arrival on the Bounty – indeed, after Mr Hall, who I had considered a weaselly thing, he was the first member of the ship’s crew I had chanced upon, outside the captain’s cabin on that fine day before Christmas 1787 – but since then had rarely so much as acknowledged my presence, so caught up was he with his duties on board the ship and his attempts to keep a civil relationship with Mr Bligh.
I was most surprised, then, to wake this day after an afternoon snooze to find my head using his knees as a pillow and he not in the least offended by it.
‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ I said, sitting up in a mortification and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. ‘I don’t know how that came about. A man will do strange things in his sleep, that’s for sure.’
‘Think nothing of it, lad,’ he replied with a shrug, as if the matter meant not a jot to him. ‘You got some sleep and revived your energies, that’s what counts.’
‘Aye, sir,’ I said, pulling myself together and stretching my body as much as I could as I lay my back against the side of the tub beside him. I looked forward at the faces of William Cole and David Nelson as they rowed the launch; I swear I could see a translucence to their skin and their eyes had never looked more haunted or black.
‘Who is this Mr Lewis, might I ask?’ said Mr Fryer after a few moments had passed.
I confess I could have jumped overboard in surprise. ‘Mr Lewis?’ I said, quite forgetting my place. ‘What do you know of him?’
‘Nothing at all,’ he replied. ‘But you spoke of him in your sleep, that’s all.’
I narrowed my eyes and felt a slight pain in my stomach, but as that part of my body had been in a constant spasm of agony for more than a month I gave it scarce consideration. ‘I spoke of Mr Lewis?’ I asked. ‘And what did I say?’
‘Nothing intelligible,’ he said. ‘Was he just a fancy of your dream? You cried out for him to unhand you, that was all. You said you would never go back.’
I nodded my head and stayed silent, considering it. I could recall nothing of my reverie. ‘Aye,’ I said finally. ‘He was just a fancy, nothing more. I was unaware that I spoke in my sleep.’
‘We all do from time to time,’ he replied. ‘I remember my dear wife Mary telling me that I had a tendency to talk about owls at the darkest part of the night.’
‘Owls, sir?’
‘Yes. It’s a curious thing as I have no interest in owls whatsoever. But there we are. It’s part of the games that the mind plays on us.’
I agreed that it was and looked out at the sea, smothering a yawn that might have sent me back to my reveries had we not been engaged in conversation. I threw Mr Fryer a look and noted how his beard had become red at the edges but grey at the tip. I was unsure how old he was – in his late thirties, I would have suggested – but our time at sea had done him no favours, as he appeared to be ageing before my very eyes.
‘Sir,’ I said after a long silence, a question that I had long wanted to ask him coming into my head. ‘Sir, might I ask you something?’
‘You might,’ he said, turning towards me.
‘It’s just that I don’t know whether you’ll be pleased with the question, that’s all. But I have a mind to know the answer.’
He gave me a smile and indicated the wide expanse of ocean that surrounded us. ‘Turnstile,’ he said, ‘we maintain the farce of rank aboard a vessel like this in order that we might reach our destination safely. But looking around, don’t you feel a certain equality of status with your fellow sailors? We might drown together at any moment and, if we do, we each of us will end up in the same place.’
‘Aye, sir,’ I replied, for there was no denying that true remark. ‘Then, I shall ask it. I have wondered how it is that you came to be here.’
‘Here, on this launch?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Have you lost your senses, boy? We were put here by the traitors—’
‘No,’ I said, interrupting him and shaking my head. ‘You misunderstand me, sir. I mean how is it that you joined the captain in the tub and didn’t stay with Mr Christian? Otaheite was a fine place, sir, we all know that. And there were great delights to be had there. And if you don’t mind my saying so, Mr Fryer, it has always seemed to me that you and the captain were not exactly brothers-at-arms.’
He laughed a little at this phrase and I smiled too, pleased that he was not angered with me for the sauce of it, but finally he gave a little shrug and lowered his voice as he answered me.
‘You might well ask it,’ he said. ‘I dare say many of the men wonder at it. And you’re right in thinking that the captain and I have had our … disagreements during the voyage.’
‘I’m a great admirer of the captain, sir,’ said I quickly. ‘As I hope you know. And I’d never say a word against him. But I did think at times he treated you fierce hard.’
‘Thank you, Turnstile,’ he said, acknowledging this. ‘It’s thoughtful of you to say, especially since your loyalties are so clearly with Mr Bligh. Your devotion to him is well known by every man on board this tub and every man on Otaheite.’
I was surprised by this; I had never expected that others saw me as such a loyal character or even thought of it. Still, it gave me a warm sensation inside and I was glad of it.
‘The truth of it is,’ he continued, ‘that I have not always been as well disposed towards the captain as I might have been. I have considered him cantankerous and rude, pig-headed and even simple-minded at times.’
‘Mr Fryer!’
‘We are talking as equals, are we not? We may speak as we find?’
‘Aye, sir, but to say such a thing—’
‘Is simply the truth of my feeling towards him. I have observed a man so weighed down by bitterness at his lack of rank – I refer of course to his lack of status as captain and his actual insignia as lieutenant – that he has allowed it to cloud his judgement at times. This sense of inferiority was well played upon by Mr Christian throughout our voyage. I could see that, but there was little I could do to resolve it. The captain envied Mr Christian’s birth, his status, his privilege. Even, perhaps, his prettiness.’
My mouth fell open in surprise. I had never heard any man on board speak so freely.
‘I will admit that I never saw the mutiny coming, but I do think the captain at times behaved in ways that incited the men un-necessarily. Insisting that they sleep on board the ship towards the end of our stay on the island, for example, was low of him. There was no call for it and it only made the men realize what they would be missing when they left. They had formed friendships and love affairs; to rip them away from that without consideration was ill-judged. I expected a great deal of trouble on our homeward trip, but not this.’ He gestured around us both. ‘Not this, Turnstile, never this.’
‘Then, why …?’ I asked, hesitating as I tried to choose my words carefully. ‘Then, why did you come with us?’ I continued. ‘Why did you not stay with the mutineers?’
‘Because they were scoundrels, that’s why,’ he explained. ‘And I took an oath of allegiance to the king when I joined the navy, as well as an oath to uphold the orders of my commanding officer. For the last eighteen months Mr William Bligh has been my commanding officer and, that being the case, I will obey him until the last drop of blood has left my body and the last breath has left my soul. It is called duty, John Jacob Turnstile. Duty, loyalty and good service. It is the best traditions of the English navy, the traditions in which my father and his father before him and his father before him served. It is the tradition in which I would want my own son to serve. There is nothing that Mr Bligh could have said or done to turn me agin’ him. He is in charge, he is the king’s man. It’s as simple as that.’
I nodded, satisfied with the reply. It was not what I had expected of him, but it gave me a clearer idea of who the man was.
‘And besides,’ he said a few moments later, ‘I wanted to go home and see my wife again. Duty, loyalty and good service are one thing, lad, but love is another. Perhaps you’ll discover that for yourself one day.’
I smiled and took on the reddenings at the idea of it. I wondered whether these were traits I could hope for in my own future, whatever that may hold, however long or short it might be. Duty, loyalty and good service.
And love.