CHAPTER TWELVE

London, 1790

Trial, fame and infamy

When thirty-five-year-old Royal Navy lieutenant William Bligh came ashore at Portsmouth early in March 1790 he could have been anyone. There would have been little, if any, evidence of his original naval uniform: while the mutineers did throw some clothing into the launch when they abandoned their shipmates, it is highly unlikely anything would have survived the rigours of the voyage to Timor. It is more likely he would have been dressed in civilian clothing given to him after the ordeal.

Also, while it was a slow process, his health was improving. Not a tall man, he was showing signs of the slightly corpulent proportions he carried when he set sail aboard Bounty. What he didn’t realise as he walked through the streets of his homeland and refreshed memories of times past was that the relative anonymity he was experiencing would be short-lived. Before long Lieutenant William Bligh, RN, would be one of the best-known names in England, and he would be hailed a hero for guiding his seventeen remaining crewmen from Tofua to Timor without the loss of another life.

Within days he was back in London for a reunion with Betsy and his ‘little angels’. They were exciting times. After more than two years at sea he reacquainted himself with Harriet, Mary and Elizabeth, and got to know the twins who were by then almost two years old. Jane and Frances had been born three weeks after he had changed course towards Cape Town having been forced to abandon his determined effort to round Cape Horn. As news of his homecoming spread, along with details of the circumstances surrounding his return, so the number of visitors grew, each one of them eager to hear his incredible story. All this must have seemed overwhelming for Bligh: suddenly, after years of being aboard a small ship and in an isolated, far-flung part of the world, he was confronted by the bustle of everyday life in London, a city very much in flux due to the influence of the French Revolution, which had started only months earlier.

Within weeks, as news of the mutiny and its consequences spread, the name William Bligh became known from London to Lancaster, Portsmouth to Plymouth. He was praised in newspaper reports, some suggesting he deserved every reward possible. The accolades came from far and wide in recognition of his most incredible trans-ocean voyage, which history would hail as one of the greatest-ever feats of survival. His bravery, daring, leadership and skill as a navigator put him at the pinnacle of public prominence

It was several months before Bligh’s companions from the longboat voyage reached England and returned to their families. Because their stay in Batavia was prolonged through the lack of berths aboard ships making return passages to Europe, they’d simply had to wait their turn.

In the interim Bligh’s priority was to follow standard naval procedure and present himself to the Admiralty with his account of the loss of Bounty. Captains returning from sea were required to lodge all documents relating to the voyage, the most important of which was the ship’s log detailing all aspects of the voyage, including destinations, the chosen course and observations. By doing this, Bligh was able to discuss with officials his immediate future in the Royal Navy, and much to his relief he was advised that he would retain his commission as commander of Bounty because its fate was unknown. At the same time, the Admiralty decided to make use of him being home by having him serve as a relief commander on naval ships on a number of occasions.

Regardless of this work, Bligh became increasingly preoccupied with the failure of the voyage and the loss of his first naval command to mutineers. His concern was what impact the loss of Bounty might have on his career, and his relationship with his great supporter Banks, whom he was certain would have been disappointed and embarrassed by this failure. Bligh promptly wrote to him apologising, but he need not have worried: Banks was by then even more impressed by the man he had so readily endorsed prior to the departure of Bounty.

Losing a ship was not a simple matter as far as the Admiralty was concerned, however. The all-powerful Lords were acutely conscious of the potential embarrassment for the Royal Navy as a consequence of one of their commanders losing his ship to a bunch of seafaring ruffians. Right then that commander, Bligh, was a national hero, but there was no guarantee that fickle public sentiment would stay that way. They decided the right course of action would be to pursue the perpetrators of this act and deliver them home to England to face justice. After consultation with the Admiralty, His Majesty’s government announced that a ship, HMS Pandora, would be readied to sail to Tahiti so the Bounty rebels could be hunted down and arrested. It sounded like the perfect, face-saving solution at the time, for both the Royal Navy and Bligh, but the result it would deliver was unexpected and tragic.

Innocent though he was, under naval law Bligh was obliged to face a court-martial inquiry in which his actions and those of the crew relating to the insurrection and subsequent loss of his ship would come under close scrutiny. That trial began on 22 October 1790 aboard HMS Royal William, moored at Spithead, with Bligh’s old commander from Gibraltar, Admiral Samuel Barrington, presiding.

According to protocol, Bligh was the first witness. When proceedings commenced, he advised the court that the only objection or complaint he held against any of the officers or men who were with him on the launch voyage was with the carpenter, William Purcell. Following this declaration all survivors present then swore that they held no grievance against their captain. Even John Fryer went on record as saying the captain did everything in his power to recover the ship. Regardless, it is surprising that Bligh hadn’t lodged a complaint against Fryer at the start of this court martial, but his decision could have been tied to the possibility that the mutineers might still be arrested and returned to England, whereupon they would face their own court martial. If that happened he would need all the support he could muster when it came to defending his honour.

The proceedings in the court were remarkably brief. Only a short time after Bligh and his men were asked to retire, they were ushered back in to hear the verdict. Immediately Bligh was relieved to see that on the table he stood before, it was the hilt of the president’s sword, not the blade, pointing towards him. This was, in the annals of the Royal Navy, the traditional sign indicating a verdict of not guilty. The officers then verbally delivered their decision: that Bounty was ‘violently and forcibly seized’ by Fletcher Christian and his supporters, and that Lieutenant William Bligh, and those tried with him, could not be held responsible for the loss. All were honourably acquitted. The court then turned its attention to the charges against Purcell, and after hearing the evidence, declared that the allegations had been proved in part and that he should be reprimanded.

The acquittal, coupled with the publication of Bligh’s Narrative of the Mutiny, On Board His Majesty’s Ship Bounty; And The Subsequent Voyage of Part of the Crew, In the Ship’s Boat, which he had written since his return, further fuelled the public’s fascination with his odyssey into an unknown and exotic world. By now his distinction in English society was such that he and Betsy were presented to King George III at Buckingham House under the escort of Sir Joseph Banks.

Bligh’s exoneration also led to the Admiralty promoting him to the position of commander and giving him the commission of the fourteen-gun sloop HMS Falcon, with the rank of captain. Favours from the Admiralty came again in December when the Lords decided to overrule the traditional requirement of three years’ additional service, and appointed Bligh post-captain to HMS Medea for rank only.

For the next four months he went onto half-pay while waiting for a command, and he spent much of this time at his desk penning a more detailed and graphic account of his experiences on the South Seas. In March 1791 he received an intriguing direction, which had been orchestrated by Banks, and just one month later his new posting was confirmed. It was beyond his highest expectations.