CHAPTER SIX

Tahiti, 1788

Seduction in paradise

Had the propagation of the breadfruit plant been better understood by Bligh and his botanists, they would have known before arriving in Tahiti that they were destined for a long stay. But the fruit was new to the British, so there was no real knowledge of it – except that it grew prolifically in the tropics and provided exceptional sustenance. As it turned out, Bounty could not have dropped anchor in Matavai Bay at a worse time for this venture. In late October, near the start of the southern hemisphere summer, the breadfruit trees were in fruit, which meant any juvenile saplings were not strong enough to be transplanted. The wet season, which started in January, was best, so that meant a stay of at least five months.

This news certainly didn’t disappoint the crew, who were finding it extremely easy to settle into a warm and carefree South Pacific way of life. They were surrounded by magnificent tropical island scenery, starting with the azure waters that were surging in fine and long ribbons of white onto the black sand. These palm-fringed beaches were at the front line of a gently sloping coastal strip that swept up to breathtakingly lush and rugged volcanic peaks.

More interesting for the crew, though, were their immediate surrounds: they were overwhelmed by the entrancing natural beauty of so many of the Tahitian women. Suddenly all the hardship and pain from the attempts to round Cape Horn were forgotten; within days of their arrival it appeared that almost every one of them had acquired a tyo, a female friend.

Initially Bligh was welcomed to Tahiti by a number of subordinate chiefs, but he sought contact with Otoo, the chief of the region around Matavai Bay, whom he knew from having been to the island with Captain Cook aboard Resolution in 1777 – ‘63 moons’ earlier, according to the Tahitian calendar. The captain was told that the chief was on another part of the island, but messengers had been sent to advise him that a ship carrying friends had arrived. Two days later Otoo and his wife, Iddeeah, arrived. When the chief came aboard Bounty, he welcomed the Englishmen, but advised Bligh that he had changed his name to Tynah, something that was customary on a number of occasions during a chief’s life. He was a man of huge stature, around 6 feet 4 inches tall and proportionately robust.

As a symbol of friendship the islanders had brought to the ship a painting of Captain Cook done by John Webber when Resolution was there. However, the wooden frame had been damaged over the years, so they asked if it could be repaired. The master of another ship that had been there some months prior had informed the locals of Cook’s death but not the cause, so Tynah pressed Bligh for information regarding the man they called Toote Earee no Tahiti – Cook, chief of Tahiti – but Bligh would not confirm Cook’s passing. He had ordered his crew to do likewise for fear it might cause unnecessary disturbance among the Tahitians.

Bligh had also decided it was not prudent so soon after arriving to tell Tynah that the procurement of breadfruit plants was the purpose behind the visit. He thought it better to establish a relationship with the islanders, then plan an appropriate strategy. Regardless, he did send his botanist, David Nelson, and the latter’s assistant, William Brown, to look for suitable plants around the bay, and they returned to report that it appeared their mission would be accomplished with relative ease.

Even so, Bligh decided to extend his search for breadfruit to Oparre, a thirty-minute sail to the west of where Bounty was anchored, on the pretext that he wanted to visit Tynah’s young son, Otoo, who was the earee rahie – the chief – of the village. During the short passage aboard Bounty’s cutter, Bligh told Tynah that he intended visiting other islands while in Tahiti. He also enquired as to what had happened to the cattle, sheep and other animals Cook had brought to the island. Tynah revealed that most had been slaughtered after a successful attack on Oparre by other islanders, adding that it had been hoped that Toote (which was how they pronounced Captain Cook’s name) would return with a ‘great ship’ to avenge the loss. Bligh immediately saw an opportunity to raise the subject of breadfruit diplomatically: ‘I told him that not only Toote but King George would be very angry at it [the slaughter of the animals], that he had many good friends in England, and when ships came again to Tahiti he would have other presents and good things sent to him. He was much pleased and satisfied.’ Bligh then suggested that since King George III had sent many presents to Tynah, he should send something in return: ‘he readily complied, enumerating the different articles he had, among which was the breadfruit … I made a proper use of it, and [after] telling him the breadfruit was very good and that King George would like it, he said a great deal should be put on board.’

The deal was done. Bligh had his host, Tynah, at the point he wanted – they would get all the breadfruit plants they needed with the support of the locals. At this stage of the project, Bligh was understandably quite satisfied with its progress: ‘I had now, instead of appearing to receive a favour, brought the chiefs to believe that I was doing them a kindness in carrying the plants, as a present from them to the Earee Rahie no Britannee.’

With the ship anchored in the superbly scenic situation in Matavai Bay, after his visit to Oparre, Bligh revealed he too was overwhelmed by the natural beauty surrounding him: ‘These two places are certainly the paradise of the world and if happiness could result from situation and convenience, here it is to be found in the highest perfection. I have seen many parts of the world, but Tahiti is capable of being preferable to them all, and certainly is so considering it in its natural state.’ Ironically, the profound beauty of this paradise would be one of the elements underpinning the collapse of his expedition months later when some of his men mutinied.

Eight days after Bounty’s arrival, Bligh ordered Fletcher Christian and a party ashore to erect a tent that would become the assembly point for the breadfruit plants before they were transferred to the ship. The crew knew the islanders were uncommonly accomplished thieves, so they established a line in the sand around the tent which the islanders were not permitted to cross unless invited.

Since they couldn’t collect the breadfruit saplings at that time, the crew started preparing soil for the pots. Some breadfruit trees can be grown from seeds, but the variety in Tahiti had to be established from suckers growing as an extension of the tree’s root system. Islanders would induce growth of these suckers by uncovering the root of a tree and cutting into it, and soon after a tiny shoot would emerge from that wound. However, before this new growth could be transplanted, it had to grow to a point where it had established its own life support system – an extensive network of roots.

Petty thieving became all too prevalent, so when the rudder gudgeon was removed from the stern of the large cutter and no perpetrator found, Bligh decided that he should punish the boatkeeper, John Adams (who had come aboard under the false name of Alexander Smith possibly because he was wanted by authorities in England for criminal activities), with a dozen lashes in the presence of the chiefs. This would allow Bligh to demonstrate to the chiefs how such offences were dealt with under the ship’s law. There is little doubt this act was the harbinger of a degeneration of the relationship between the captain and some of his men. Already Bligh was aware that these particular individuals were becoming increasingly indolent towards their duties, their focus being more on developing a strong rapport with the island women, who were extremely generous with their favours. It was normal sybaritic behaviour for the women and heaven-sent for the visitors, who were becoming too easily intoxicated by seductive charms they could never have imagined back in England. No doubt Bligh knew if he stood between his men and their desires during this prolonged stay he would make life unnecessarily difficult for himself. His challenge was to maintain discipline as best he could: nothing would change until Bounty had weighed anchor for the homeward voyage.

The hospitality Bligh was experiencing with the islanders was considerably different to that of his men. From the outset it had flowed freely with Tynah and other chiefs on the island. When they were aboard the ship they drank wine, but while on shore Bligh had to contend with drinking ava, or kava as it is now known, something he found to be quite repulsive, but unfortunately an obligatory tradition he had to observe. He recorded one of his first experiences with this debilitating drink when he met Tynah’s father, who was about seventy years old:

I found this old chief … lying under a small shed and as soon as he saw me he seemed to be overjoyed … he is a tall man with weak eyes and his skin is much shrivelled and dried by drinking of that pernicious root, the ava … This ava is made from a strong pungent root which few chiefs ever go without – it is chewed by their servants in large mouthfuls at a time, which when it has collected a sufficiency of saliva is taken and put into a coconut shell. This is repeated until there is enough chewed – it is then squeezed and given to the principal men, each of them taking nearly a pint wine measure. What remains is mixed with water and again squeezed and strained, it is then delivered to the inferior chiefs or those of the highest class if they prefer it diluted.

While Bligh found the kava ritual close to vile, he was pleased when the islanders informed him that a Heiva – a traditional ceremony – was to be performed in his honour. It was by then late November 1788, and earlier in the month the Bounty crew, led by Bligh, had shared their own form of entertainment – a practical joke – with a large group of islanders aboard the ship, including the ever-present Tynah.

The ship’s barber, Able Seaman Richard Skinner, had brought from London a lifelike hairdresser’s model, a head used to show customers different hair fashions. Bligh suggested to Skinner that he prepare the model for some light-hearted fun, and he did this by styling the model’s hair and forming a stick body for it which was clothed. That done, the Englishmen put word out to the islanders that they actually did have an English lady with them, and if they cleared the quarterdeck, she might make an appearance. Minutes later the ‘English lady’ was handed up to deck level by one of the crew standing on the boarding ladder suspended over the side of the ship. Another crewman then lifted her over the rail, and carried her across the deck to cries from the natives of ‘Huaheine no Britannee myty’, meaning ‘good woman of Britain’. Many believed her to be real and asked Bligh if this was his wife. One old woman was so convinced that she rushed to the mannequin’s feet and laid down gifts of cloth and breadfruit. Others rubbed noses and kissed her. When the ruse was revealed the islanders saw the joke as being extremely funny and clever.

The day the Heiva was scheduled, 21 November, started extremely well when a local chief, Teppahoo, did as promised and found a bullock the captain could buy and have slaughtered for the crew’s benefit. The purchase price was a hatchet, file, rasp, gimlet, knife, spiker nail and a shirt. The form of payment brought great excitement to the islanders observing the transaction: they had never seen such an array of highly prized currency.

Tynah and his family and friends, who rarely spent a day not in Bligh’s presence, saw it as an honour to present the Heiva for the captain. Bligh had not previously seen such a ceremony, and it turned out to be an experience best left to him to describe:

…a great many people collected … I was placed with Tynah, his wife and several chief women at the most conspicuous part of the ring and the performance began.

Twelve men were divided into four ranks, three men in each one behind the other sitting on their heels, with two women in the front. Behind them all stood a man who was called a priest and who made an harangue which lasted about ten minutes that was listened to with some attention, during which Captain Cook’s picture, that we had brought from the ship on purpose, was held beside me. The harangue being over I was clothed in a piece of white cloth and a small piece was wrapped round the picture. The priest now spoke again, when an old man with one eye came running up to me in a superstitious kind of manner, and placed a piece of plaited coconut leaf at my feet. The same was done to Tynah, and one piece was thrown under the picture. The priest left off speaking and the Heiva began by the men jumping and throwing their legs and arms into violent and odd motions, which the women kept time with, and as they were conveniently clothed for the purpose, their persons were generally exposed to full view, frequently standing on one leg and keeping the other up, giving themselves the most lascivious and wanton motions. As this was for some time performed at the farthest part of the ring from us, out of compliment the women were directed to come nearer, and they accordingly advanced with their clothes up, and went through the same wanton gestures which on their return ended the Heiva.

In the course of this extraordinary performance the Queen and chief women were highly delighted, and asked particularly if we had no such Heivas in England.

At all times Bligh displayed a genuine interest in the islanders, their lifestyle, traditions and welfare. He noted that there were around 100,000 inhabitants across the islands in this region and that they were well aware of the problems associated with overpopulation, which they dealt with through a brutal form of culling. He demonstrated a remarkably realistic appreciation of the problem and its solution, but that didn’t stop him from suggesting an alternative way of dealing with it. Incredibly his plan involved the newly settled New Holland:

An idea here presents itself which, however fanciful it may appear at first sight, seems to merit some attention: while we see among these islands so great a waste of the human species that numbers are born only to die, and at the same time a large continent so near to them as New Holland, in which there is so great a waste of land uncultivated and almost destitute of inhabitants, it naturally occurs how greatly the two countries might be made to benefit each other, and gives occasion to regret that the islanders are not instructed in the means of emigrating to New Holland, which seems as if designed by nature to serve as an asylum for the superflux of inhabitants in the islands…

December 5 and 6 were two days to remember for unfortunate reasons. A fresh gale had descended on Matavai Bay overnight and by morning the ship was rolling heavily and uncomfortably in the large swell. The gyrations were exacerbated by the vast amount of weight carried aloft: the masts, yards and rigging combined to create the effect of a giant, slow-moving pendulum. Bligh also had to contend with a problem with the previously recalcitrant carpenter, William Purcell. Some islanders brought to the ship a large stone that Bligh wanted shaped so they could sharpen the hatchets he had given them, but to the captain’s astonishment Purcell ‘refused to comply in direct terms saying “I will not cut the stone for it will spoil my chisel, and though there is law to take away my clothes there is none to take away my tools” … I was under the necessity to confine him to his cabin. Although I can but ill spare the loss of a single man, but I do not intend to lose the use of him but remit him to his duty tomorrow.’ Later the same day Able Seaman Mathew Thompson was dealt ‘twelve lashes for insolence and disobedience of orders’.

Much to everyone’s surprise the conditions they were experiencing deteriorated to a dangerous degree. This time of the year is today defined as the hurricane season, and Bligh’s reports leave little doubt this is what they experienced. He indicated that the eye of the ugly storm blasting across Matavai Bay passed directly over them. Initially the wind came from the east-south-east, then later it came even more savagely from the opposing direction, north-west. The seas grew to such a height that the nearby Dolphin Bank, which had provided a natural barrier for the anchorage, was offering no protection at all. The waves broke over the ship and threatened to rip it away from the anchors. Bligh’s log recorded that the situation was dire. Every part of the ship had to be battened down while all on board could do no more than place their trust in the anchors:

In this state we remained the whole night with all hands up in the midst of torrents of rain, the ship sending and rolling in a most tremendous manner, and the sea foaming all around us so as to threaten instant destruction. However I did not strike yards and topmasts until eight in the morning when the wind increasing from the NW I gave up all ideas but riding it out, and made the ship as fit for it as possible. In this situation my friends on shore became very anxious for my safety.

The storm lasted more than thirty hours. On shore the prized breadfruit plants, which by then were starting to be collected and transplanted into the pots, were under threat from the salt spray brought in by the menacing seas. An additional threat to the campsite came with the torrent of water streaming down from the nearby mountains and carving its way across the beach like a river in full flood. Miraculously, the ship held true on its anchors, and the plants somehow survived the onslaught.

To Bligh’s amazement, the moment the seas showed signs of abating, Tynah and his wife clambered aboard a canoe and battled their way through the still huge surf out to the ship, just so they could express their deepest concerns about what had happened. They and everyone else on shore were astounded that the ship had not foundered and been destroyed.

The following day an even more remarkable display of emotion and empathy over the immensity of the threat the ship had survived came when another native leader, Poeeno, and his wife reached the ship bearing a gift of fruit. No one on board was prepared for what followed: a customary but alarming display of sympathy shown by Poeeno’s wife. ‘The strongest and only established proof among these people of their sincerity on those occasions,’ said Bligh, ‘is the wounding of themselves on the top of the head with a shark’s tooth until they bring on a vast profusion of blood, and having a knowledge of this I was prepared to prevent this woman from doing it, but I had no sooner come to her than the operation was performed before I was aware of it, and her face was covered with blood in an instant.’

Poeeno subsequently gave Bligh an assurance: ‘You shall live with me if the ship is lost, and we will cut down trees to build another to carry you to Pretanee.’

Bligh needed no convincing that it would be unsafe for Bounty to stay in Matavai Bay any longer, and this was confirmed for him by the chiefs. He called for the ship to be readied for departure as soon as possible to a safer anchorage, but first they had to find that anchorage.

While that search was undertaken, work continued on the ship and its equipment, including the sails which were on shore. One of the tasks for the crew was to haul Bounty’s launch up the beach for maintenance, but unfortunately while this was taking place, a strapping young islander boy of around ten years of age injured himself when he fell under one of the wooden rollers being used to move the boat across the sand. There was immediate concern for him but he escaped serious injury.

On the same day it was the ship’s surgeon who caused extreme alarm:

About eight o’clock the surgeon’s assistant made a report that the surgeon appeared in such a state that he thought it was necessary to remove him where he could have more air, and accordingly the cabin was got ready for him, but we had no idea of the dangerous state he was in. Mr. Fryer went with the people to get him up, when to his astonishment he found him on the deck totally senseless. Difficulty of breathing and a few slight exertions to discharge some phlegm, were the only appearances of life that he had by the time they got him to the cabin. An attempt was made to get him to swallow some coconut milk, but all to no effect and he died at nine o’clock.

This unfortunate man died owing to drunkenness and indolence. Exercise was a thing he could not bear an idea of, or could I ever bring him to take a half-dozen of turns on deck at a time in the course of the whole voyage. Sleeping was the way he spent his time, and he accustomed himself to breathe so little fresh air and was so filthy in his person that he became latterly a nuisance.

Crew members cutting planks for the ship constructed a coffin for the departed surgeon while the captain arranged with Tynah for him to be buried on shore under a cairn. The captain then confirmed that Thomas Ledward, the surgeon’s mate, would become the ship’s surgeon.

After surveying a number of safe anchorages around Matavai Bay, Bligh brought great joy to his hosts when he announced he would be moving Bounty to the nearby harbour of Toahroah, just three miles to the west of where they were currently anchored near Point Venus. Everyone could continue their association with the ship, especially the women with whom so many of the crew had become familiar.

Before moving anchorage, the crew transferred 774 potted breadfruit plants by cutter from the beach to the ship. The next morning, Christmas Day, they weighed anchor and Bounty began the short passage to its new location. As a precaution Bligh sent the launch ahead to unload tents on shore then meet the ship at sea, from where it would show the way through the narrow channel leading to the lagoon. Bounty made her approach under topsails only while the launch, which was also under sail, rendezvoused at the designated point. Unfortunately, though, the wind faded to a whisper and the launch was suddenly becalmed. Inevitably, Bounty carried on her way and sailed past, and in immediately recognising it was too dangerous to proceed any further, Bligh called his men to action – but it was too late: ‘I now shortened sail and let the anchor go when to my astonishment the ship was aground, but she went on so easy I did not know it until the master came from the fore-yard and told me of it. I have been in many situations of this nature much more hazardous and I thought my precautions were abundant to carry me safe.’

With the hull suffering only superficial damage, Bligh called for two anchors to be set astern of the ship so it could be hauled off using manpower at the capstan and the windlass. The undertaking took less than an hour: at midday Bounty was floating free, much to the amazement of the islanders watching the salvage effort from their canoes and from shore, all certain she would not be refloated.

Once Bounty was safely at anchor, Bligh commanded the crew to begin preparing for departure and the next stage of the voyage – to the West Indies. This included a rigorous and detailed check of every part of the ship – rigging, sails and hull. Provisions were also a priority: a number of hogs were slaughtered and the meat salted. The ship’s butcher, Robert Lamb, was on the receiving end of twelve lashes ‘for suffering his cleaver to be stolen’, and while Bligh acknowledged to Tynah and other chiefs that Lamb was primarily at fault through negligence, the perpetrators would receive a similar punishment if caught (which they weren’t).

In the final weeks of December, Bligh was informed that the supply of breadfruit had started to dwindle, but he was also assured this would change the following month. At the same time he was pleased to note that the islanders continued to provide the ship with a considerable amount of food – coconuts, plantains and fish in particular – which he purchased from them using the usual barter system.

Amid all this preparation the crew had to confront the sudden, and in some cases dreaded, realisation that departure was nigh, and with that the uninhibited and licentious lifestyle in paradise they had so easily and readily adopted was coming to a compulsory conclusion. It was a lifestyle which, before arriving in Tahiti, they could never have imagined in their wildest dreams. Soon it would be in Bounty’s wake while ahead loomed the drudgery of eighteenth-century England. For many, it was a troublesome thought gnawing at their minds. News of Bounty’s impending departure was also spreading across the islander population, and with that, obvious signs of sadness emerged in the form of an unprecedented outpouring of kindness towards the visitors. It confirmed they held a great desire for the Englishmen not to leave.

During the countdown to departure, reluctance to return to their mundane life was increasingly evident among some of the men and this, inevitably, led to more problems for Bligh. The first sign of trouble came in a most definite manner on the fifth day of the New Year, 1789. At four o’clock in the morning, it was discovered that the ship’s small cutter was missing. Bligh immediately mustered the ship’s company, and the ensuing roll-call revealed that three of his crew had deserted: the master-at-arms, Charles Churchill; Bligh’s own steward and tailor, William Muspratt (who had received a dozen lashes twelve days earlier for neglect of duty); and Able Seaman John Millward, who had been on duty as the ship’s sentinel between midnight and 2 am on the night. Also, because the mate-of-the-watch on deck, Thomas Hayward, was asleep on the job, the ship’s arms chest had been raided and eight stands of arms and ammunition were stolen.

Bligh was less concerned about the men than he was about the cutter; it was vital to the operation of the ship and the safety of the crew. At first light he went ashore and secured the assistance of Tynah and other chiefs to initiate a search for the deserters. In no time word filtered back that they were headed for Matavai, so Bligh returned to Bounty and arranged for Tynah, two chiefs and the ship’s master, John Fryer, to set off after them in another of the ship’s boats. They were only a short distance to the east of Bounty when, much to their amazement, they spotted the cutter being rowed towards them. They discovered why: the five islanders on board were bringing it back to the ship, but minus the deserters.

Once the cutter was back at the ship Bligh duly ‘rewarded the men for their fidelity’, then much to his delight he learned that the islanders had full knowledge of the missing men’s plans: on reaching Matavai they organised for islanders to take them by canoe to a village at Tetturoah, an island 30 nautical miles to the north. With this knowledge Bligh turned to Tynah, making it clear he was serious:

As the object now was to adopt means to get the people I told Tynah and the other chiefs that I looked to them for that service, and that therefore without delay they must proceed to Tetturoah and get them taken and brought back to me. That I would not quit the country without them, and that as they had always been my friends I expected they would show it in this instance, and that unless they did, I should proceed with such violence as would make them repent it.

Tough words, but it was language the islanders understood. Cook, along with Bligh, had been the first Europeans to make contact with the Hawaiians and Tahitians. Bligh, by his second voyage into the Pacific, would have had a working knowledge of the language, though not without misunderstandings.

The following morning two chiefs, Oreepyah and Moannah, were to set off in canoes bound for Tetturoah, well versed in the plan that Bligh had devised: ‘the natives to collect round them as friends, and then to seize on them and their arms, and bind them with cords and to show no mercy to them if they made resistance’.

With the search underway Bligh had time to consider what might have caused the men to desert and also to contemplate the obvious and disconcerting change of attitude emerging among some of his men. They were becoming increasingly apathetic and lackadaisical – hardly surprising considering the casual and carefree nature of the South Pacific island society that embraced them. These and other circumstances were causing Bligh to feel the isolation that came with command. He and so many of the crew were worlds apart in upbringing, education (or lack of it) and attitude, yet he somehow had to bridge that divide if this expedition were to succeed – and it had to. He needed to retain control of his all-too-often wayward bunch, and to achieve this he needed to strike a delicate balance between leadership and camaraderie, while also being the judge, jury and disciplinarian when it came to punishment for any wrongdoing. How he must have wished at the time that Bounty had been that little bit larger so he would have been entitled to carry the small complement of marines he had wanted. They would have made his position as commander infinitely easier. Instead of having the marines support him and deliver punishment, it was crewman lashing crewman, which made life on board difficult. Each punishment was aimed at setting an example to the entire crew as much as it was to cleanse the offender.

The stability Bligh needed to maintain within his crew was never more apparent than at this time: he knew he had to keep corporal punishment to a minimum, even though he was dealing with some of the worst acts of insubordination defined under the Royal Navy’s Articles of War. He had to decide how to achieve that balance while appropriately disciplining the deserters, should they be caught, along with the sleeping mate-of-the-watch. The deserters’ crime was understandable. Hayward’s crime, however, was unforgivable in that by being asleep he had failed to raise the alarm over the theft of the cutter. This dereliction of duty had also presented the absconders with the opportunity to arm themselves, so it was imperative that he be punished.

The log entry on the day regarding Thomas Hayward and the degenerating attitude of many of the crew provided fair evidence of Bligh’s growing dilemma:

Had the mate of the watch been awake no trouble of this kind would have happened. I have therefore dis-rated and turned him before the mast. Such neglectful and worthless Petty Officers I believe never were in a ship as are in this. No orders for a few hours together are obeyed by them, and their conduct in general is so bad, that no confidence or trust can be reposed in them. In short they have driven me to everything but corporal punishment and that must follow if they do not improve.

Hayward’s sentence was the most severe since Bounty departed England, but even so Bligh elected not to flog him. He ordered him to be put in irons, and he stayed that way until 23 March, eleven weeks later.

With the search for the deserters in its second week, the remaining crew continued to work on the ship. Things appeared to be going smoothly until 17 January when frustrating new evidence surfaced of a serious neglect of duty on the part of his officers. It came when Bligh ordered that all sails in the sail room be taken ashore to air, and he was infuriated by what he found:

The new fore topsail and foresail, main topmast staysail and main staysail were found very much mildewed and rotten in many places.

If I had any officers to supersede the master and boatswain, or was capable of doing without them considering them as common seamen, they should no longer occupy their respective stations. Scarce any neglect of duty can equal the criminality of this … To remedy the defects I attended and saw the sails put into the sea and hung up on shore to dry to be ready for repairing.

Heralded by gale-force winds and a booming tropical thunderstorm, word came to the captain that he had anxiously hoped to hear: the deserters, who had been gone seventeen days, had returned and were at Tettahah, a village about five miles from where Bounty was anchored. It was after five o’clock in the afternoon and darkness would soon push its way in from the east, so Bligh decided that despite the storm he would go after his men there and then. He ordered that the launch be immediately hoisted out from the deck, manned and readied to take him to the village.

The atrocious weather made for a difficult and dangerous passage through a series of reefs before the boat finally reached a beach near the village where it could be put ashore safely. This was still some distance from Tettahah, so Bligh then set out on foot along the beach, his destination being the home of his friend, the village chief, Teppahoo, where Churchill, Muspratt and Millward were said to be waiting. Much to Bligh’s surprise the walk was not without incident. Suddenly a group of islanders emerged from the night to rob him of whatever they could. The threat disappeared as quickly as it came when Bligh fired a shot into the air, threatening at the same time to kill his would-be assailants.

As he approached the house he was surprised to see his men waiting for him outside, unarmed, unrestrained and ready to surrender. He talked with Teppahoo about the situation, then took the trio back to the beach. Bligh decided it was too late and too dangerous to return to the ship, so he opted to hold the deserters overnight in a shed on shore with two armed guards while the rest of his launch crew took shelter under cover aboard the boat.

When they arrived back on the ship the next morning the three offenders were thrown into irons, and a directive issued that no liquor of any kind was to be given to them. Their story to the captain was that after Oreepyah and Moannah had tried unsuccessfully to detain them at Tetturoah they decided it was best for them to return to their ship on their own accord and surrender. Bligh doubted this story; he believed that with their whereabouts known, and having been threatened and made unwelcome by the islanders at Tetturoah, they decided to move on to Moorea. However, the bad weather had blown them off course to Tettahah. Bligh was also convinced that had their arms and ammunition not been rendered useless by water damage, the men would probably not have surrendered as they did.

Bligh’s log for the following morning reads: ‘Punished the deserters as follows – Charles Churchill with twelve lashes and William Muspratt and John Millward with two dozen each, and remanded them back into irons, for further punishment.’

To coincide with the first round of punishment for these men Bligh seized the opportunity to impress firmly upon the ship’s company their obligations to the king, country and the mission by again highlighting the Articles of War, a 3,475-word document created in 1749 listing regulations ‘to be observed and put in execution, as well in time of peace as in time of war’. He explained his reason for doing this:

As this affair was solely caused by the neglect of the officers who had the watch, I was induced to give them all a lecture on this occasion, and endeavoured to show them that however exempt they were at present from the like punishment, yet they were equally subject by the Articles of War to an adequate one. An officer with men under his care is at all times in some degree responsible for their conduct; but when from his neglect men are brought to punishment while he only meets with a reprimand … an alternative often laid aside through lenity, and sometimes necessity as it now is in both cases, it is an unpleasant thing to remark that no feelings of honour or sense of shame is to be observed in such an offender.

All present no doubt gave thought to the deserters when the following part of ‘Section XVI, Desertion, and Entertaining Deserters’ was declared: ‘Every person in or belonging to the fleet, who shall desert or entice others so to do, shall suffer death, or such other punishment as the circumstances of the offence shall deserve, and a Court Martial shall judge fit.’

Immediately after the three deserters had received their first taste of punishment via the cat-o’-nine-tails for what Millward would later refer to as ‘the former foolish affair’, they wrote to their captain pleading for forgiveness and mercy on 26 January 1789:

Sir,

We should think ourselves wholly inexcusable if we omitted taking this earliest opportunity of returning our thanks for your goodness in delivering us from a trial by Court Martial, the fatal consequences of which are obvious; and although we cannot possibly lay any claim to so great a favour, yet we humbly beg you will be pleased to remit any further punishment, and we trust our future conduct will fully demonstrate our deep sense of your clemency, and our steadfast resolution to behave better hereafter.

We are, etc.

C. Churchill

Wm. Muspratt

John Millward

The plea of repentance fell on deaf ears. The promised ‘further punishment’ came on 4 February, and after that they were released from irons.

The reading of the Articles seemed to have the desired effect on all the men, except for Able Seaman Isaac Martin, who felt the lash a dozen times on the last day of January. He was found guilty of ‘striking an Indian’, and for this assault Bligh directed he receive two dozen lashes, a sentence no doubt influenced by the high value the captain placed on retaining a strong and friendly relationship with the islanders, then and in the future. Fortunately for Martin, Tynah and other villagers had pleaded with Bligh on his behalf prior to the punishment and the sentence was reduced.

With Bounty’s departure day drawing ever closer, work aboard the ship and the gathering of plants on shore accelerated. One never-ending problem was cockroaches: they were present in large numbers throughout the ship, so after being thoroughly cleaned, below decks was then filled with tobacco smoke in a bid to exterminate them. As an extension of this process all wooden chests were taken ashore and washed out with boiling water.

The accumulation and potting of breadfruit saplings was proceeding according to plan, and as time passed it became apparent to the botanist and his assistant that had Bounty been able to round Cape Horn and get to Tahiti earlier than she did, the result of the expedition would not have been anywhere near as successful. Bligh recorded in the ship’s log how seventy of the plants were growing well as there had been so much rain, and about the general success of the exercise: ‘In all these works I have natives to assist the gardeners and I have had the pleasure to keep all the principal chiefs with the greatest good humour and wish to serve us. Under these happy circumstances and the plants easily cultivated, the success of the voyage now only hinges on our passage home.’

While the surgeon had confirmed the entire Bounty crew was free of venereal disease before arriving in Tahiti, their ensuing promiscuity with the women of the island, who were constant visitors to the ship, unfortunately changed that. As a result the ship’s newly appointed surgeon, Thomas Ledward, would have been a very busy man. The log gave a constant update on numbers:

Remarks in Toahroah Harbour

Monday 26th. January 1789: … Six men in the Venereal List.

Friday 30th. January 1789: … Five Venereals in the List.

Sunday 1st. February 1789: … Three men in the Venereal List.

It has been estimated that at least one-third of the Bounty crew contracted the disease in Tahiti, and while no apparent evidence exists, it is suggested that many officers – including Fletcher Christian, who had the great benefit of being ashore most of the time, organising the gathering of the breadfruit trees – were among them.

Some weeks before Bounty was set to sail on the homeward leg of the journey a serious incident occurred, for which Bligh initially blamed the islanders, but in hindsight after the mutiny, considered it was possibly otherwise. An effort had been made overnight to hack through the mooring line securing the ship to the shore, and if it had been successful Bounty could easily have rotated on her anchor warp and been wrecked on a nearby reef, or stranded on the beach, beyond salvage. Understandably Bligh was furious:

… I am at a loss to account for this malicious act, for I found Tynah totally innocent of the transaction and also the other chiefs: however, as I threatened instant revenge unless the criminal was brought to me, they became all exceedingly alarmed. Otow in the midst of tremendous heavy rain with his wife moved off for the mountains, and also Teppahoo and his family. Tynah and Iddeeah only remained and expostulated with me not to be severe with them. He said he would do his endeavours to get the offender …

With the cable spliced together and the ship again secure, the captain ordered the erection of a high structure on the fo’c’s’le, ‘so that the cables are immediately under the eye of the sentinel and a midshipman who take their watch there’.

Months later, after the mutiny, Bligh recorded an alternative theory on the incident:

It has since occurred to me that this attempt to cut the ship adrift was most probably the act of some of our own people; whose purpose of remaining at Tahiti might have been effectually answered, without danger, if the ship had been driven ashore. At the time, I entertained not the least thought of this kind, nor did the possibility of it enter into my ideas, having no suspicion, that so general an inclination, or so strong an attachment to these islands could prevail among my people as to induce them to abandon every prospect of returning to their native country …

It would be easy to question Bligh’s notes and log of the voyage if he alone had maintained a record, but Bounty’s bosun’s mate, James Morrison, had kept a daily journal documenting his version of the events that unfolded (from which he later compiled his account of the mutiny while in prison). While critical of Bligh and his fellow officers, and contradicting some of Bligh’s log entries, it mostly supports the captain’s sequence of events. Such was the case with the circumstances surrounding the three deserters, and also the cable incident. Here Morrison’s note supported Bligh’s latter theory:

A little time after, two strands of a small bower cable were observed to be cut through at the water’s edge, but as the cable hung slack under the bottom it was not observed until a squall from the westward brought it to bear ahead, when we hove it in and spliced it before the wind became sufficiently strong to part it. This gave rise to many opinions and strict inquiry was made, but no person on board could give any account of it, though it was the private opinion of men as well as officers that no native had been so bold as to attempt it, though some supposed they had, as the buoy was sunk, thinking to be well paid for their trouble in diving after it … However … this remained a profound one [secret] and was not found out while the ship remained here …

By now the worst of the weather had abated and Oreepyah finally returned from Tetturoah after his quest with Moannah to seize the three deserters and return them to their ship. He confirmed Bligh’s belief that the deserters’ account of what happened, and that they planned to surrender, was false. They had gone back to Tettahah because the weather forced them that way. Oreepyah said he and Moannah had done their utmost to detain the deserters and at one stage actually had them tied up; however, the trio convinced their captors to release them because they planned to return peacefully to the ship. Not surprisingly, once let loose they grabbed their weapons and escaped.

During the latter stage of the stay in Tahiti the ship’s log reveals the highs and lows that Bligh experienced daily. One moment he fumes over an incident or set of frustrating circumstances, and the next he is expounding in great detail the pleasures of a particular social event on the ship or with the islanders. This tends to confirm George Tobin’s view (who later sailed with Bligh on Providence in 1791) that Bligh’s ‘violent tornados of temper’ were quickly followed with ‘something like a plaister [sic] to heal the wound’. Claims he was a cruel tyrant when it came to the treatment of his crew can be countered by ample evidence of his care for their health and conditions on board. Imbued in the rigid traditions of the Royal Navy since he was seven years old, it is easy to understand why he was so often filled with frustration when dealing with recalcitrant crew or slipshod work. Bligh was a highly intelligent perfectionist, an exceptional mariner obsessively dedicated to duty and detail, who struggled to understand why others could not show a similar devotion.

Compress these and all other elements of the expedition, including the lure of the Tahitian women, into one melting pot – a small, ninety-foot-long ship with forty-four men aboard – and you have an explosive formula, one that created so many trials for the commander who stood alone.

His tolerance was tested again in early March, this time by an islander who went to the tent on the beach and stole an empty water cask, part of an Azimuth Compass and the hammock belonging to gunner William Peckover, who was supposedly the lookout at the time. Bligh had done his utmost to ignore the majority of the locals’ petty thieving since Bounty had arrived in Tahiti, but for this guilty party, should he be caught, there was promise of serious retribution. Bligh was so desperate to have this thief captured he sent word ashore to Tynah that there would be no further friendship between them ‘unless the thief was produced, and that must be done in the course of the day’. The threat had the desired impact: within three hours the search party returned with some of the evidence – the cask – and the perpetrator held firmly in Tynah’s grasp. ‘There is the thief. Kill him,’ Tynah declared to Bligh. Bligh then ‘told him he had acted very properly and that he had secured my friendship and good will, and explained with much success how unjust it was and unfriendly to steal any thing from us, and the risk which they run in the attempt.’ He added, ‘That I punished my people for the most trifling offence against them, and that I would therefore insist on like punishment, on their side.’

The islander was then taken to Bounty and dealt 100 lashes ‘severely given, and thence into irons’. There was relief for both sides to learn that the thief was not from the Matavai Bay area.

Bligh’s plan was to hold the young man as a hostage in case of further thefts, but it was short-lived. At around four o’clock in the morning, five days after being put in irons, the young man managed to break the lock, free himself, then dive overboard and swim off into the darkness. Once again Bligh’s fury had been fired by incompetence:

I had given in written orders that the mate of the watch [Midshipman George Stewart] was to be answerable for the prisoners and to visit and see that they were safe in his watch, but I have such a neglectful set about me that I believe nothing but condign punishment can alter their conduct. Verbal orders in the course of a month were so forgot that they would impudently assert no such thing or directions were given, and I have been at last under the necessity to trouble myself with writing what by decent young officers would be complied with as the common Rules of the Service.

By now Bounty was in the final stages of being rigged and readied for departure, and undoubtedly that could not have come soon enough for the captain. After five months he would finally have his men and his mission back on course.

On 1 April, Bounty was ready to sail. On board were 1,015 breadfruit plants in 774 pots, thirty-nine tubs and twenty-four boxes, plus a number of other plants Sir Joseph Banks had suggested they collect. Additionally Bligh recorded: ‘My stock on board consisted of as much fruit as I could stow, 25 hogs and seventeen goats. Water on board, 47 tons.’

Bad weather – strong winds and thunderstorms – held Bounty at anchor for three more days. Then, on the evening of 4 April the ship was overwhelmed by islanders as they clambered aboard to say farewell – including Tynah and almost his entire family, and the female friends of the crew. There was also a sombre crowd on the beach: ‘No mirth or dances on the beach as usual in the evenings. All sorrow at our departure,’ Bligh logged.

One of the captain’s final acts was to return to Tynah Webber’s painting of Captain Cook, complete with repaired frame. It had been kept on board at the chief’s request for the time they were in Tahiti. Then: ‘At five o’clock,’ Bligh reflected, ‘we bade farewell to Tahiti, where for 23 weeks we were treated with the greatest kindness: fed with the best of meat and finest fruits in the world.’