CHAPTER ELEVEN

Timor, 1789

From hell to home

When Bligh set foot on the shore in Coupang on Sunday, 14 June 1789, the abhorrent voyage of the damned was all but complete. By any standard it would have been considered a challenge of incomprehensible proportions, and unachievable, but it turned into a forty-seven-day, 3,618-nautical-mile crusade against often barbaric weather and an horrendously challenging sea. For nearly half the time he and his seventeen miserable men were out there, they were fighting everything the elements could fashion as a weapon – winds that blew a gale, menacingly savage and large foaming seas that threatened to overwhelm their small boat at any moment, and torrential rain. Their defence was simply an impoverished yet determined will to survive, and a captain who represented the ultimate embodiment of a great seafarer, skilful navigator and resolute leader. Now, after averaging between 100 and 110 nautical miles on most days, they were in Timor, and every one of them was alive, though barely.

Inevitably there would have been an air of amazement and disbelief when Bligh and his seventeen skeletal men were seen from the shore, all weather-beaten and bedraggled in a battered and worn out vessel. Where had they come from in such a small boat, was the immediate question. Why so many men? Why were they in Coupang?

With the tattered remnants of the captain’s Royal Navy uniform flapping in the early-morning breeze it would have been apparent to the Dutch soldier that he was looking at the commander of the group, and Bligh presented himself accordingly, with full naval procedure. As luck would have it, one of the first people to emerge from the inquisitive ‘crowd of Indians’ that had gathered on the shore – mainly Malays and Chinese – was an English sailor, from one of the ships anchored in the shelter of the narrow road between Coupang and the large island of Semau only a couple of nautical miles to the west. In the discussion that followed, Bligh learned that the governor of the settlement was seriously ill, so he made a request to be introduced to the English ship’s captain, Captain Spikerman, who he was mistakenly led to believe was the second most senior person in the town.

The welcoming faces of the people and their surroundings were heaven sent for Bligh and his survivors. The launch, with the men still aboard, was immediately in front of Fort Concordia, which the supremely powerful Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie, or VOC) built after the colony was established in Coupang in 1630, a move that effectively brought about the end of Portuguese dominance in the region. VOC was by the standards of the day a company of gargantuan proportions, and the spice trade to Europe it was developing in these ‘Spice Islands’ was destined to make it considerably larger. It had been established as a chartered company in 1602 and quickly became the most remarkable organisation of the era – the world’s first multi-national corporation and the first to issue stock. Between 1602 and 1796 VOC sent nearly one million Europeans to work in Asia, while its charter saw it holding quasi-governmental powers that gave it the right to negotiate treaties, wage war, coin money and establish colonies. VOC was dissolved in 1800 after succumbing to corruption and massive debt. Its then territories became known as the Dutch East Indies.

It was extremely fortunate for Bligh and his men that this settlement existed. If it hadn’t, there would have been few, if any, alternatives where they might secure the opportunity to be repatriated to England. They could have tried to get to Captain Arthur Phillip’s newly established colony at Botany Bay, in New Holland, but in doing so they almost certainly would have perished through being so much more vulnerable to extreme weather. Apart from that destination, and Coupang, there was little else on offer.

Bligh was received ‘with great humanity’ by Captain Spikerman, who immediately ordered that the men be received at his own home. ‘I now desired everyone to come on shore, which was as much as some of them could do, being scarce able to walk,’ Bligh recalled. ‘They however, got at last to the house, and found tea with bread and butter provided for their breakfast.’

The look of joy and the recognition of deliverance by the men presented Bligh with the opportunity later that day to pen very effectively what he had seen and experienced at this time, a time when he was able to compare his horribly ravaged men with the healthy individuals who were their hosts:

The abilities of the most eminent artist perhaps could never have more brilliantly shone them in a delineation of two groups of figures that at this time presented themselves, and where one might be so much at a loss to know which most to admire, whether the eyes of famine sparkling at immediate relief, or their preservers horror struck at the spectres of men. For anyone to conceive the picture of such poor miserable beings, let him fancy that in his house he is … giving relief to eighteen, whose ghastly countenances, but from the known cause, would be equally liable to affright as demand pity; let him view their limbs full of sores and their bodies nothing but skin and bones habited in rags, and at last let him conceive he sees the tears of joy and gratitude flowing over their cheeks at their benefactors. With the mixture of horror, surprise and pity…were the people of Timor on giving us relief.

There was no rest for the captain this day. At eleven o’clock the governor, William Adrian Van Este, who was dying from an incurable disease, took leave from his sickbed and welcomed him. Bligh would note later that on hearing of the almost inconceivable magnitude of their trans-ocean voyage, Van Este ‘considered it as the greatest blessing of his life that we had fallen under his protection’. The governor also advised him that his son-in-law, Mr Timotheus Wanjon, was second-in-charge of the settlement and would assist in every way This took effect immediately because by late morning arrangements were completed for Bligh to be accommodated in a large, unoccupied house, which he insisted he share with his men, who had by then received new clothes and had their medical problems attended to by the town’s surgeon. After that Bligh watched all seventeen of them enjoy their first ‘meal of plenty’ in almost two months before he then dined with his host, Wanjon, ‘but I found no extraordinary inclination to eat or drink, or did I find my stomach able to bear anything …’

By mid-afternoon Bligh and his men were exhausted, and most, including the captain, took time to rest. It was the first time since the mutiny they had enjoyed any form of bedding and reposed with any degree of comfort. Even so, many of them, including Bligh, could not sleep: ‘I found my mind more disposed to reflect on the sufferings I had gone through, of the failure of my expedition, but above all of the thanks due to Almighty God who had given me power to support and bear such heavy calamities, and to enable me at last to be the means of saving eighteen lives which would never otherwise have been thought of.’

His notes from that day revealed the distress he had felt in having to rigidly control the distribution of rations, and the emotional grief from having to refuse requests for more food. He never deviated from the agreement that he made with the men on setting out from Tofua:

The consequence of this care was, that at our arrival we had still remaining sufficient for eleven days, at our scanty allowance: and if we had been so unfortunate as to have missed the Dutch settlement at Timor, we could have proceeded to Java, where I was certain every supply we wanted could be procured.

The quantity of provisions with which we left the ship, was not more than we should have consumed in five days, had there been no necessity for husbanding our stock. The mutineers must naturally have concluded that we could have no other place of refuge than the Friendly Islands; for it was not likely they should imagine, that, so poorly equipped as we were in every respect, there could have been a possibility of our attempting to return homewards….

When I reflect how providentially our lives were saved at Tofua, by the Indians delaying their attack, and that, with scarce anything to support life, we crossed a sea of more than 1,200 leagues, without shelter from the inclemency of the weather; when I reflect that in an open boat, with so much stormy weather, we escaped foundering, that not any of us were taken off by disease, that we had the great good fortune to pass the unfriendly natives of other countries without accident, and at last happily to meet with the most friendly and best of people to relieve our distresses; I say, when I reflect on all these wonderful escapes, the remembrance of such great mercies enables me to bear, with resignation and cheerfulness, the failure of an expedition, the success of which I had so much at heart, and which was frustrated at a time when I was congratulating myself on the fairest prospect of being able to complete it in a manner that would fully have answered the intention of His Majesty, and the honourable promoters of so benevolent a plan.

With respect to the preservation of our health, during a course of 16 days of heavy and almost continual rain, I would recommend to everyone in a similar situation the method we practiced, which is to dip their clothes in the salt water, and wring them out, as often as they become filled with rain; it was the only resource we had, and I believe was of the greatest service to us, for it felt more like a change of dry clothes than could well be imagined. We had occasion to do this so often, that at length all our clothes were wrung to pieces: for, except the few days we passed on the coast of New Holland, we were continually wet either with rain or sea.

The path to full health over the ensuing days was more rugged for some than others: even Bligh was suffering, but he still insisted on overseeing their welfare and recovery. Those who were capable were ordered to bathe before sunrise each day in a beautiful freshwater river nearby, and everyone had to make regular visits to the hospital so their progress could be monitored. Five days after their arrival at Coupang the captain recorded: ‘Every person is now beginning to recover except myself. Great weakness and fever still hangs about me which keeps me confined. A little sago is the only thing my stomach can bear.’ Three days later there were more encouraging signs: ‘I began today to feel my health returning to me and my living is changed to a use of more solids. Some of my company have become unwell from having eaten too much. The sore feet and legs of some are troublesome to heal, they are however getting tolerably on and begin to lose their ghastly meagre countenances.’ The fact that Bligh’s health was improving saw him take up the governor’s offer of the use of a horse, something that led him ‘to take a small ride into the country’ so he could appreciate and log details of the land around the settlement. Of the settlement itself he wrote: ‘The town consists of about 150 houses including Malays and Chinese. Its situation is perhaps peculiarly desirable on account of the road and a fine river, and to the latter we may without error attribute the great share of health that the inhabitants enjoy’

Half a world away, Fletcher Christian and his Bounty renegades were not finding it as easy as they would have liked when it came to establishing their South Pacific utopia. After being forced to sail to Matavai Bay following their unfriendly reception at Tubuai, the mutineers were beginning to question their leader and show signs of general dissent. Christian retained his determination to return to Tubuai, while some others were thinking otherwise. It was vital that he gained the absolute support of the islanders if he was to secure the animals and other supplies necessary to establish his new community. Having convinced the Tahitians that Bligh and some of the Bounty crew had gone with Captain Cook to the new settlement in New Holland, which he said was named Whytootackee (Aitutaki – the name given to the South Pacific island discovered by Bligh with Bounty) and was waiting there for Bounty’s return, Christian then added as an enticement that Cook had confirmed he would return to Matavai Bay once the colony was established.

The islanders’ support for Christian was immediate and immense. The cargo that went aboard included 460 hogs, fifty goats, the bull and cow Captain Cook had left them, and some chickens, dogs and cats. They also discovered they had some unexpected guests after they departed for Tubuai – the nine men, eight boys, ten women and one female child who were aboard included some stowaways.

When they arrived at their destination on 23 June, their welcome was far friendlier than the previous time. Christian went ashore immediately to find a site for the fort he intended to build, and the moment he departed from the ship unrest broke out among the mutineers. Some defied his orders and also went ashore, where they stayed the night. Inevitably, Christian was starting to experience the disrespect and contempt of authority these men had previously shown towards Captain Bligh.

No sooner had work started on the construction of the fort than there were disturbances with the islanders. Quarrels erupted and as a consequence, Christian shot one islander dead and burned down the home of a chief. The unrest continued through to 10 September, when Christian called all his men together to discuss the situation, and their grievances, the principal one being a lack of female companionship. The vote that followed saw sixteen in favour of returning to Tahiti and nine against. The majority ruled.

Their departure from Tubuai was not as simple as the men hoped. While collecting their animals and other equipment to load the ship, they were trapped in an ambush by 700 hostile islanders. Serious bloodshed followed and before Bounty was able to set sail, a considerable number of islanders were killed and wounded and some of Christian’s men had been brutally beaten.

When Bounty arrived back in Matavai Bay forty-eight hours later, the crew immediately split, sixteen leaving the ship to establish a life there, the remaining eight opting to stay with Christian and travel to a destination which was yet to be decided. Only James Morrison’s journal gave any indication of what Christian’s plans might be:

It being late before everything was landed, Mr Christian told us that he intended to stay a day or two and hoped that we would assist him to fill some water, as he intended to cruise for some uninhabited island where he would land his stock (of which the ship was full, together with plants of all the kinds that are common in these islands) and set fire to the ship, and where he hoped to live the remainder of his days without seeing the face of a European but those who were already with him.

Come morning and Bounty had vanished. Christian had apparently surrendered to his beliefs that some of his supporters may change their mind if they stayed in Tahiti any longer, or that his presence might be discovered through the arrival of another ship. He was also convinced that should Bligh somehow, miraculously, find his way back to England, the Royal Navy would most certainly send a ship to the South Seas in search of the traitorous crew

Unbeknown to everyone except himself at that stage, Bounty was heading to Pitcairn Island, a destination Christian believed would not be considered by anyone searching for the ship and its crew His theory proved to be correct because it wasn’t until nineteen years later, in February 1808, that the American sealer Topaz, under the command of Captain Mayhew Folger, stopped at Pitcairn Island and solved for the world the mystery of what became of Fletcher Christian and the last remnants of the Bounty mutineers.

On 24 June, ten days after Bligh and his waif-like outcasts from Bounty reached Coupang, the captain declared his next plan:

My intentions being to leave Timor as soon as possible, that I might be enabled to leave Batavia [Jakarta, in Java] before the sickly monsoon sets in, my opinion being that if I remained here until the vessels that were in the road were ready to sail, I might not get to Batavia before the beginning of November, and thereby lose the opportunity of the Dutch Fleet that sails in October for Europe – in which case I must remain until January for our own China ships that then pass through the Straits of Sunda; a length of time in the sickly season that I should avoid by every means in my power.

Bligh knew he would be pushing luck to the absolute limit if he continued towards Batavia aboard the launch, even though it had carried him and his men a great distance across precarious oceans – ‘it would be unjustifiable to proceed in her any farther’ – so there was only one solution: to purchase or hire a vessel suitable for transporting them to Batavia. The money for this came through an agreement with Timotheus Wanjon, in which Bligh could draw the necessary bills on the British Government.

A week later he had purchased on behalf of His Majesty’s Service a thirty-four-foot schooner that had been built in Java. The cost -1,000 rix-dollars – was the lowest he could find for any vessel capable of completing the mission, and she came ‘complete for sea’, with sails, rigging and two anchors and cables. She was immediately renamed HMS Resource. Within days the carpenter, assisted by some Chinese workers, set about repairing and preparing Resource for the planned 1,200-nautical-mile passage. This purchase meant that the Royal Navy now had a ship it didn’t know about, and it also didn’t know it had lost one – but the Admiralty certainly would know the moment these men, or the mail, reached England.

On the same day as the purchase of Resource, Bligh presented the governor with an account of the loss of Bounty and the names and all relevant details of the mutineers. He demanded ‘in His Majesty’s name that orders might be sent to all their settlements to take the pirates if they came there’.

The description of the mutineers, which he compiled in consultation with the crew who were with him, gave an interesting insight into the individuals, especially how young they were, and the distinctive ‘marks’ they bore. At age forty, or thereabouts, Thompson, Mills and Coleman were considered to be middle-aged. The majority were aged between twenty and twenty-eight, while Heywood and Ellison were only seventeen. Most had been tattooed extensively while in Tahiti.

These were some of the descriptions delivered to the governor:

Fletcher Christian / Aged 24 years – 5ft 9in / Complexion: Dark and very swarthy / Hair: Blackish or very dark brown / Make: Strong / Marks: Star tattooed on the left breast and tattooed on the backside. His knees stands a little out and may be called a little bow legged. He is subject to violent perspiration and particularly in his hands so that he soils anything he handles.

Edward Young / Aged 22 years – 5ft 8in / Complexion: Dark and rather bad/Marks: Lost several of his fore teeth and those that remain are all rotten.

James Morrison / Aged 28 years – 5ft 8in / Marks: Has been wounded in one of his arms with a musket ball.

William Mickoy [McCoy] / Aged 25 years-5ft 8in / Strong / Marks: A scar where he has been stabbed in the belly.

Henry Hillbrant / Aged 25 years – 5ft 7in / Strong / Marks: His left arm shorter than the other having been broke. Is Hanoverian born and speaks bad English.

William Brown / Aged 27 years – 5ft 8in / Marks: A remarkable scar on one of his cheeks which contracts the eyelid and runs down to his throat.

Later, Bligh left a copy of this list in Batavia and subsequently forwarded copies – with a brief explanation of the mutiny – to the governor-general of India, Lord Cornwallis, and to Governor Phillip in New South Wales.

In the seven weeks it took to ready Resource for sea, the majority of the men had regained their full health. However, Bligh registered some sad news on 20 July: ‘I had the misfortune to lose Mr. David Nelson: he died of an inflammatory fever. The loss of this honest man I very much lamented.’ The funeral, supported by twelve Dutch officers dressed in black, took place the next day and his body was interred behind the settlement’s small chapel.

In this period leading up to their departure, Fryer continually frustrated and challenged Bligh through insolence and by persistently disobeying orders. At one stage he encouraged his brother-in-law, Robert Tinkler, to ‘stick his knife into the bosun’ following a confrontation. Fryer’s ‘vicious and troublesome disposition’ saw Bligh repeatedly recording complaints against him, but their predicament in Coupang prevented him from taking stronger action. This would come later. The intractable and problematic carpenter William Purcell also fell into this category.

On 19 August, the day prior to weighing anchor and sailing for Batavia Bligh attended to his correspondence, which would be sent to England as mail on the next ship heading to Europe from Coupang, though just when that would be was unknown. This was the day that he wrote his famously affectionate letter to his wife, Betsy, breaking the news of the mutiny, his misfortune and his whereabouts. Chances were that this letter would no reach its destination before he did, so it is without doubt that he wrote it to ensure she had his personal account of the mutiny should he die during his efforts to reach home. There is also no doubt that by writing this letter to his beloved he would have brought considerable relief to his own mind.

Coupang in Timor,

August 19th 1789

My dear Betsy

I am now in a part of the world that I never expected, it is, however, a place that has afforded me relief and saved my life, and I have the happiness to assure you I am now in perfect health. That the chance of this letter getting to you before others of a later date is so very small, I shall only just give you a short account of the cause of my arrival here – what an emotion does my heart and soul feel that I have once more an opportunity of writing to you and my little angels, and particularly as you have all been so near losing the best of friends, when you would have had no person to have regarded you as I do, and you must have spent the remainder of your days without knowing what was become of me, or what would have been still worse, to have known I had been starved to death at sea or destroyed by Indians – all these dreadful circumstances I have combated with success and in the most extraordinary manner that ever happened, never despairing from the first moment of my disaster but that I should overcome all my difficulties. Know then, my own dear Betsy, I have lost the Bounty.

… on the 28th April at daylight in the morning Christian having the morning watch. He with several others came into my cabin while I was asleep, and seizing me, holding naked bayonets at my breast, tied my hands behind my back, and threatened instant destruction if I uttered a word. I however called loudly for assistance, but the conspiracy was so well laid that the officers’ cabin doors were guarded by sentinels, so Nelson, Peckover, Samuels or the Master could not come to me. I was now dragged on deck in my shirt and closely guarded – I demanded of Christian the case of such a violent act, and severely degraded for his villainy but he could only answer – ‘not a word sir or you are dead.’ I dared him to the act and endeavoured to rally someone to a sense of their duty but to no effect …

The secrecy of this mutiny is beyond all conception so that I cannot discover that any who are with me had the least knowledge of it. Even Mr. Tom Ellison took such a liking to Otaheite that he also turned pirate, so that I have been run down by my own dogs …

My misfortune I trust will be properly considered by all the world - it was a circumstance I could not foresee – I had not sufficient officers and had they granted me marines most likely the affair would never have happened – I had not a spirited and brave fellow about me and the mutineers treated them as such. My conduct has been free of blame, and I showed everyone that, tied as I was, I defied every villain to hurt me …

I know how shocked you will be at this affair but I request of you My Dear Betsy to think nothing of it – all is now past and we will again look forward to future happiness. Nothing but true consciousness as an officer that I have done well could support me … give my blessings to my dear Harriet, my dear Mary, my dear Betsy and to my dear little stranger [Bligh’s unborn fourth child] and tell them I shall soon be home …To you my love I give all that an affectionate husband can give – love, respect and all that is or ever will be in the power of your ever affectionate friend and husband

Wm Bligh

As a precaution against him failing, through accident, to reach England, Bligh also wrote a letter to the Lords of the Admiralty to ensure they knew what had happened with Bounty and how he came to be in Coupang.

While Resource was being prepared for the journey the refugees had become aware of an additional threat they could face between Coupang and Batavia: pirates! Consequently, Bligh arranged for the Dutch authorities to loan him suitable arms which could be carried aboard Resource. These included swivel brass cannons, fourteen muskets, fourteen bayonets, plus ammunition.

On the morning of 20 August the seventeen Bounty discards hoisted the sails on the little schooner Resource and departed Coupang, bound for Batavia. The launch – their already legendary lifeboat – was in tow, and as the ship moved directly and slowly away from the shore on a course to the northwest-by-west, booming rounds of cannon fire resounded across the water. First Resource saluted the fort with thirteen rounds, then came the same number in response; there was a nine-gun salute from Captain Spikerman’s ship, to which Bligh replied, and in a final farewell the fort let go with another seven.

It was downwind sailing before a pleasant south-east trade wind, but due to the fullness of the design of the vessel and the speed-sapping drag that came from the launch, progress was slow-generally between one and four knots.

The course set for Resource was almost direct to the western end of the island of Flores, where, according to the Dutch map they had been given, they should turn north and sail through ‘the Streights of Mangaryne’ then change course to the west. When they reached the straits, Bligh decided the passage appeared too narrow and dangerous to negotiate, but he was left with no option but to go through – the only other alternative to get to the north proved impassable because of contrary winds and hellish swirling currents. It was ten days after leaving Coupang that they were finally clear of the straits and heading west. The track was then along the northern shore of the island of Sumbawa, then across the northern side of Bali and on to Surabaya, where they were scheduled to be joined by a pilot and three small prows, which would act as escort vessels and help protect Resource should there be an attack by pirates between there and Batavia.

Soon after Resource reached Surabaya on 12 September, there was another major confrontation between Purcell and Fryer and their captain. Some crew were found drunk below deck and this brought about direct challenges to Bligh’s authority The infraction was the last straw for Bligh: he decided to pursue and punish the perpetrators of ‘these disgraceful things’.

Bligh ordered the master and carpenter to be held as prisoners and taken to shore, ‘for I now no longer found my honour or person safe among these people’. When the captain reached the shore with them he wrote to the governor of Surabaya, Anthony Barkay requesting he ‘inquire into the cause of this tumult’.

Sourabya [sic], 15 Septr, 1789

This is to certify that I have solicited (in the name of the King of Great Britain) the premier of this place to cause to be detained under an arrest and from hence to be immediately sent to Batavia and there to be ready to embark with me on my arrival for Europe, two officers, under the names of John Fryer, master, and Wm Purcell, carpenter, who have acted tumultuously on board His Britannic Majesty’s schooner, Resource.

Also to cause three others, Thomas Ledward, acting surgeon, John Hallett, midshipman, and Wm Cole, boatswain, to be brought on shore and examined, they having declared that they could witness against their Commander, who on that account as a British Officer, to prove his honour request that a public enquiry may be made.

Wm. Bligh.

At the court hearing the following morning Ledward, Hallett and Cole appeared before three local senior military officers, and upon examination none could register any serious complaints against their captain. ‘The examination being over I dismissed these wretches and ordered them on board,’ wrote Bligh.

By now the two prisoners, Fryer an d Purcell, understood that they had gone beyond all reason in challenging their captain’s authority and would almost certainly face a court martial on returning to England, so Fryer in particular went to great lengths to beg forgiveness. Bligh would have no part of it, and instead of having them aboard Resource for the remainder of the passage to Batavia, consigned each one of them to an escorting prow.

On 17 September, Resource set sail from Surabaya with the pilot on board and the prows in support, heading for Batavia, which was 400 nautical miles to the west. They reached their destination on 2 October, and within hours of going ashore Bligh was struck down by a violent fever brought on by the oppressive heat and humidity, an ailment later diagnosed as malaria. It was so severe that the surgeon-general there advised him to leave Batavia for England as soon as possible, but he should also know that all ships heading to Europe were grossly overcrowded. Bligh took this advice and initiated plans to depart. Two days later Resource was auctioned off for a disappointing 295 rix -dollars and, much to his regret, the launch was also sold: ‘The services she had rendered us made me feel great reluctance at parting with her; which I would not have done, if I could have found a convenient opportunity of getting her conveyed to Europe.’ This same day Bligh lost another of his men – the third since the mutiny Thomas Hall, a cook who had been seriously ill since arriving in Timor, passed away

With placements for passengers to Europe at a premium, Bligh quickly set about organising his passage to England and that of the remaining crew The first opportunity was three berths aboard the Dutch packet ship Vlydte, which was sailing on 16 October, and he assigned those places to himself, his clerk, John Samuel, and John Smith, who was acting as his servant. The ship’s ultimate destination was the Dutch town of Middelburg – which today, ironically, is on the edge of Bligh Bank in the English Channel. Vlydte was scheduled to stop in England on the way.

Two months after leaving Batavia, Vlydte anchored in Cape Town’s Table Bay, and once there Bligh penned a letter to his great friend and mentor Sir Joseph Banks, detailing the circumstances around the loss of Bounty It read, in part:

In this you will see Sir the misfortunes of a man who pledges his honour to you, could not be foreseen or guarded against, whose conduct will bear the test of the minutest enquiry and who only regrets that you should see him so unsuccessful. But although I have failed in the completion of my undertaking, I had accomplished most assuredly, the most difficult part of it. My sufferings have been very great, but through the whole, that no dishonour could be reflected on your recommendation I have endeavoured to make the remaining part of my voyage of some avail. Even in my distressed situation, I went in search of Fidgee [Fiji] Islands and discovered them, or a number of others through which I sailed, and have made a decent survey of them with respect to their situation. I have also done the same on the coast of New Holland from the latitude 13" south, and passed to the northward of Captain Cook through the Prince of Wales Islands in latitude about 10" 30′S. I was fearful having no arms to go near to New Guinea, otherwise I would have determined how far Endeavour Straits was an eligible pass for shipping, but that perhaps is already done. I have been very ill and am still an invalid, but I hope to see you in the month of April, if I can persuade a terrible old fellow of a Dutchman [the ship’s captain] to carry sail.

After sailing from Table Bay on 2 January 1790, Vlydte anchored off the Isle of Wight, on the southern side of the Solent, on 14 March. It had been two years and three months since Bligh had seen the coast of England – a sight he had thought so many times he might never again experience.

When the anchor was confirmed as being secure, a small boat from the Isle of Wight rafted alongside the ship and soon after Bligh went aboard carrying what few possessions he owned. He was then ferried across the Solent to Portsmouth where, after he stepped ashore in this famous naval town, he reported his arrival to authorities.

In signalling the end of this almost inconceivable chapter in his remarkable life, Bligh wrote soon afterwards:

Those of my officers and people whom I left at Batavia were provided with passages in the earliest ships; and at the time we parted were apparently in good health. Nevertheless they did not all live to quit Batavia. Mr. Elphinston, master’s mate, and Peter Linkletter, seaman, died within a fortnight after my departure, the hardships they had experienced having rendered them unequal to cope with so unhealthy a climate as that of Batavia. The remainder embarked on board the Dutch fleet for Europe, and arrived safe at this country, except Robert Lamb, who died on the passage, and Mr. Ledward, the surgeon, who has not yet been heard of [he was lost at sea when the Dutch ship he was aboard foundered between Batavia and the Cape of Good Hope]. Thus 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.