CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tahiti, 1791

Second chances

In March 1791, as Pandora surged down vivid blue South Pacific swells towards Tahiti with her canvas sails stretched taut by a perfect south-east trade wind, Bligh was at home in England and about to receive some gratifying news, which would confirm once more that he remained very much in favour with Sir Joseph Banks and the Admiralty regardless of the loss of Bounty.

It was a time when the English were enjoying an extended period of peace, a circumstance that gave Banks the opportunity to again champion the cause for the transfer of breadfruit plants from Tahiti to the West Indies, a project that still retained the endorsement of the king. The good news for Bligh was that he was still the chosen man for the job.

The communiqué from Banks advised Bligh of this and confirmed that a 107-foot sloop-of-war, HMS Providence, which was still under construction at the Blackwall Yard on the Thames, had been purchased one month earlier specifically for the task of completing the voyage the Bounty mutineers had terminated two years earlier. Better still, in being given a second chance to complete his original mission, Bligh would be promoted to captain, a posting which was confirmed when Providence was launched in April. He saw the name of this new ship as being quite auspicious: it defined the new expedition perfectly, as he viewed its completion as being an essential part of his destiny in the Royal Navy.

Apart from directing Bligh to deliver the breadfruit plants to the West Indies, the Admiralty also commissioned him ‘to make a complete examination of Torres Strait’, a shallow, reef-strewn and dangerous stretch of water between the northern tip of New Holland and the southern coast of New Guinea. He had been through this region once before, aboard Bounty’s launch with his seventeen loyalists, but they had traversed waters well to the south of Torres Strait. Should an accurately recorded safe channel be found through the strait, then ships returning to England from the Pacific region – especially those servicing the new penal colony in New South Wales – would no longer have to sail through the treacherous Southern Ocean to reach home. Instead they could sail west-about through the strait, across the top of New Holland into the Indian Ocean, then enter the South Atlantic via the Cape of Good Hope. It could prove to be an invaluable shortcut for shipping.

With the directive to chart these unknown waters, Bligh decided that for safety reasons he would need a smaller support vessel. He detailed this desire in correspondence to Banks: ‘A small vessel with about 30 men would be of use and may enable me more effectually to render the navigation of Endeavour Strait less hazardous … an expeditious help for ships home from Botany Bay’ With his request recognised, Bligh chose the brig Assistant as the tender for Providence and appointed Lieutenant Nathaniel Portlock as captain. Assistant’s proportions were, in Bligh’s estimation, most suitable for a support vessel: fifty-one feet overall, a displacement of 110 tons, and a crew of twenty-seven. Lieutenant Portlock was a friend of Bligh’s; he had been master’s mate aboard Discovery, the support vessel for Resolution on Cook’s final voyage. In the reshuffle of officers that came after Cook’s death, Portlock was transferred to Resolution and served as master’s mate to Bligh.

Bligh was equally happy with Providence, which was fitted out under his directions at Deptford. She was only nine feet longer overall than the ninety-foot Bounty, but twice the tonnage, at 420 tons. The size of Providence pleased Bligh for many reasons, none more so than the fact he would now be entitled to have marines aboard to support him; his entitlement allowed him to secure the services of a lieutenant, a sergeant, two corporals, a drummer and fifteen marines from Chatham Barracks.

Among the crew of Providence were two very familiar faces for Bligh: Bounty crewmembers Lawrence Lebogue, the sailmaker, and steward John Smith. The fact that both had agreed to join Providence for this second sojourn into the South Pacific is seen by many as confirmation that Bligh’s persona was nowhere near as bad as many people have suggested: there is no way they would have signed on for a two-year voyage with the captain had he been the tyrant he was supposed to be.

This second breadfruit voyage would establish a triumvirate with a direct correlation to the establishment of the convict colony in New South Wales. It comprised Captain James Cook, Captain William Bligh and the seventeen-year-old midshipman Matthew Flinders. Cook was Flinders’ hero; Bligh had been Cook’s sailing master; and now Flinders, who would become one of Australia’s greatest maritime explorers, joined the crew of Providence for the expedition to Tahiti. The conduit between all three was Sir Joseph Banks. Just two years after Flinders joined the Royal Navy, and in circumstances Bligh could relate to, Banks recognised the young seafarer’s talents and had no hesitation in recommending him for a position as midshipman aboard Providence. Initially, Flinders was hesitant about sailing under Bligh because he was well aware of his reputation as a hard and excessively demanding taskmaster, but friends who knew Bligh convinced him otherwise.

Bligh was not disappointed by Banks’s recommendation, so not surprisingly Flinders enjoyed a similar mentoring experience under his captain aboard Providence as Bligh had with Cook aboard Resolution. Bligh’s talents as a seafarer, navigator and cartographer had been honed under the astute eye of Cook, and now Bligh would do likewise for Flinders.

Flinders would later pioneer the exploration of much of the Australian coastline. In 1798 he proved there was a strait between the mainland and Van Diemen’s Land, and in 1803 he successfully completed a voyage of discovery around the entire coast of the mainland. When he returned he stood staunchly as the voice calling for the continent to be named Australia. Unfortunately, it was an innocent circumstance this same year that saw Flinders incarcerated in Ile-de-France [Mauritius] for almost seven years. When Flinders had arrived there by boat he was unaware Britain and France were once again at war, but his ignorance of this fact didn’t help him: the island’s governor, General Charles De Caen, deemed his passport to be invalid: that could only mean Flinders was an ‘imposter’ – an English spy, so he was detained. Flinders had until then been sailing the twenty-nine-ton schooner Cumberland back to England from Sydney when he was forced to divert to Mauritius as hull planking had opened up and she was in danger of sinking. De Caen, a most faithful servant of Napoleon, would have no part of this explanation from Flinders. He was imprisoned. There is no explanation as to why he was detained for so many years, despite attempts in England and France to secure his release. Not even Napoleon could have him freed. The Emperor gave his approval on 11 March 1806, but De Caen ignored the directive, saying Flinders – who was then on parole and staying in a residence – was a dangerous man. It was not until 14 June 1810 that Flinders was free to sail for England.

Providence’s crew also included two gardeners, James Wiles and Christopher Smith, whose job was to supervise the collection of the plants in Tahiti and then tend them until they reached the West Indies. Bligh chose as his first lieutenant his twenty-six-year-old nephew, Francis Bond. With memories of the problems he faced with Bounty’s crew still raw in his mind, Bligh went to great lengths to ensure he had the men he wanted this time, right down to an artist to accurately record all points of interest during the voyage. Much to the captain’s disappointment, however, the man who was Bligh’s choice was forced to withdraw through illness not long before the ship was due to leave. With no suitable replacement available, Bligh decided he and Providence’s third lieutenant, George Tobin, would combine their talents and fulfil the task. ‘This obliged us all to work with our pencils as well as we were able,’ wrote Tobin, but he was actually being overly modest. The pair were well recognised for providing much of the rich illustrated record of the voyage.

Fully provisioned and fitted-out for their extended voyage, Providence and Assistant weighed anchor and set sail from Spithead on 3 August 1791, bound for Tahiti. Soon the two ships were sailing in company down the English Channel and into the Atlantic, and as they did neither Captain Bligh nor anyone else in England had any idea of the success or failure of Pandora’s mission to arrest the mutineers who had overrun Bounty more than two years earlier. At the time, Pandora, with the criminals crammed in the infamous cage, was making her way home across the Pacific. Just three weeks later, as Providence and Assistant sailed south towards the equator, Pandora was wrecked on the Great Barrier Reef.

As was the case with the Bounty voyage, the first stop on this passage was Tenerife, and when Providence and Assistant anchored there twenty-five days after departing England, Captain Bligh was struck down by an acute fever, possibly a recurrence of the malaria he had contracted in Batavia. This time the problem was compounded by severe headaches, probably migraines.

He was no better when the expedition departed Tenerife after staying a week. Their course would take them to the south via the Cape Verde Islands, but there was no plan to stop there. However, they began to think otherwise when Bligh’s condition deteriorated to the degree where he was increasingly bedridden and soon incapable of handling the day -to-day operation of the ship as commander. He was even beginning to think he might die. He registered in the ship’s log: ‘unsure how long I might survive’. He had no choice then but to direct Lieutenant Portlock to transfer from Assistant to Providence and take charge.

Portlock and his officers were sufficiently concerned for their captain that they elected to anchor Providence overnight in the hope they might be able to get him ashore so he could rest in greater comfort, but the heat and humidity at that time of year was so extreme it was decided to abandon that plan.

Sick as he was, Bligh was determined to write, as a loving husband to Betsy and a devoted father to his children, a letter that could be delivered to her by the next passing ship returning to England. But as he prepared to put quill to paper he realised he did not have the physical strength or mental ability for the task, so he called upon Edward Harwood, the surgeon aboard Providence, to write it for him. The actual letter has been damaged over the years, but even so, affection and emotion shine through:

Snt. Iago, Septr 13th, 1791.

My dear Betsy,

I beg you will not be alarmed at not seeing my own writing. Am vastly recovered since my … you from Tenerife – but as my … is of a nervous kind, Mr Harwood thought it improper from me to attempt writing. I anchored here today to procure a little fruit, and shall leave it by midnight, as I find it an unhealthy time of the year. I am now taking the bark and feel considerably stronger; so that hope before we reach the Cape to be perfectly re-established in my health; from thence shall give you a full account how I have proceeded – I am confident it is ordained for us once more to meet, you may therefore cherish your dear little girls in that happy hope …

My blessing to them all and with that affectionate esteem and regard you have ever known me,

I remain,

Your sincere and affectionate husband

Wm Bligh.

God bless you, my dear love and my little angels

Slowly, as Providence sailed into cooler and less humid climes, Bligh’s health began to return. However, it wasn’t until the two ships had almost reached Cape Town, on what was an otherwise uneventful passage, that he recovered to the extent that he could again walk the deck as commander.

As they sailed deeper into the southern hemisphere so the following winds strengthened, all the time pressuring the ships into higher speeds. It was and had been smooth sailing since they had farewelled England. The only problems involved a human element: Bligh was forced to order that the quartermaster, John Letby receive thirty lashes from the cat-o-nine-tails for refusing to follow orders and assaulting the bosun’s mate on 30 October, six days before Cape Town hailed into view This would prove to be one of the few times any crewmember was flogged. No doubt the presence of marines helped maintain discipline, but even so Bligh remained reluctant to flog his men; he believed it was far from the best way to maintain order.

On the approach to Cape Town, Bligh’s mind would have inevitably turned to the titanic struggle he and his men had endured in the bid to get Bounty around Cape Horn and into the Pacific at the height of a callous southern hemisphere winter. This time, much to his relief, there was no such requirement from the Admiralty, even though the warm summer months were approaching – the season of less wild weather.

Determined to ensure he was back to full health before leading the expedition into the Southern Ocean for the next stage, Bligh took leave of the ship and travelled thirty miles inland to the beautiful village of Stellenbosch, where he intended to rest and regain his strength. Bligh was well aware Stellenbosch was the perfect place for him to relax and escape the rigours of shipboard life because when he was sailing master aboard Resolution, Captain Cook had sent a scientific mission there to gain an appreciation of the attributes of the picturesque town, which Cook noted ‘stands at the foot of the range of lofty mountains’.

Providence and Assistant remained at anchor in Cape Town for two months and during that time Bligh met Captain John Hunter and the remainder of the crew of HMS Sirius. They were returning to England aboard a Dutch ship after Sirius had been wrecked on Norfolk Island, off the coast of New South Wales.

Bligh spoke at length with Hunter – whom ironically he would follow fourteen years later as governor of New South Wales – about the new penal colony and the problems it confronted. Subsequently, as a practical man who was always looking for logical solutions to problems that his and other missions faced, he decided it was important to advise Banks of his thoughts and theories regarding the situation in New South Wales. Bligh wrote to Banks saying he believed the poor nature of the soil at the colony, which was affecting the growth of crops, ‘might be remedied if Government would send them cattle and they could make manure’. He suggested the quickest and simplest solution would come if every ship leaving England for New South Wales carried at least six head of cattle, adding, ‘Until this is done there will be eternal discord and little returns’. Of his own mission Bligh added that he hoped he would discover the much-needed safe passage between New Holland and New Guinea on the return voyage.

During the layover in Cape Town both ships were refitted for the next stage of their passage to Tahiti, the 5,500 -nautical-mile leg to Van Diemen’s Land, which began on 23 December. It was a remarkably easy passage – especially when compared with Bligh’s experiences in this part of the world with Bounty. This was clear in a letter Third Lieutenant Tobin wrote to his brother:

For myself, James, I began to feel at home in the charge of a watch, nor without considering my appointment to the Providence as a very flattering one, particularly as she was the first ship in which I made my debut as a commissioned officer. In her commander I had to encounter the quickest sailor’s eye, guided by a thorough knowledge of every branch of the profession necessary on such a voyage. He had been master with the persevering Cook in his last voyage in 1776, and as has been already noticed, commanded the Bounty, armed ship, when the first attempt was made to convey the breadfruit tree to the West Indies. It is easy of belief that on first joining a man of such experience my own youth and inferiority were rather busy visitors. They were, but we had by this time crossed the equinoctial and were about doubling the Cape together and I had courage to believe that my Captain was not dissatisfied with me. Of this surely enough – even to you.

Even so, Bligh’s ‘quick sailor’s eye’ was often matched by an equally quick temper, though it was short-lived. Bligh was a perfectionist who had no time for incompetency or slack attitudes among his men, but whereas other commanders would easily address such acts with a liberal dose of the lash, Bligh tended to lash with his acerbic tongue rather than the cat -o-nine- tails. Interestingly, his outbursts often coincided with the recurrent fevers and acute headaches that plagued him for much of the entire voyage.

It was a seven-week, mostly downwind and often rollicking passage from Cape Town to Van Diemen’s Land. The two ships, which benefitted from the powerful following seas of the Southern Ocean, averaged an impressive five knots for the distance. When they rounded the southern tip of Van Diemen’s Land and tracked north towards Adventure Bay, Bligh realised it had been fifteen extraordinary years on the high seas since he had been there with Captain Cook in 1777, and less than four years since Bounty was anchored in the same bay. He also recalled it was here that the first real signs of dissension and confrontation in the Bounty crew had emerged. For any seafarer of this era to have once in a lifetime visited Adventure Bay, which was more than 10,000 nautical miles from Europe, would have been a remarkable achievement; for Captain William Bligh, this was an astonishing third time.

When looking from the deck of Providence and ashore, Bligh was once again captivated and intrigued by the natural beauty of this region. It was therefore understandable that he spent a considerable amount of time exploring and using his art brushes and exquisite watercolours to capture his observations of this unique, exotic and remote land. He also traversed much of what is now Storm Bay aboard a longboat, with young Flinders at his side, exploring many of the outstanding features of the land and all the time sketching and creating precise charts of Bligh’s discoveries. Bligh also followed the lead of Captain Cook who, when he was there in 1777, carved a note into a tree trunk to confirm his presence. Bligh’s inscription read: ‘Near this tree Captain William Bligh planted seven fruit trees 1792: – Messrs S and W, botanists.’

During their excursions away from Providence to adjacent shores and waterways, Bligh and his men wrote glowing reports of the flora and fauna of the region. They were particularly amazed by the size and grandeur of the huge blue gum trees prevalent along the shoreline and into the hills, one of which measured twenty - nine feet in circumference at its base. They also saw unusual animals: one ‘a kind of sloth about the size of a roasting pig’ which when roasted had ‘a delicate flavour’. This was probably a wombat, while another, with a mouth like a duck bill and quills of a rusty brown colour, was an echidna. As was the case with Bligh’s previous visits to Adventure Bay, his efforts to meet and try to communicate with the now vanished Aboriginals of Van Diemen’s Land were near fruitless.

Two weeks after arriving in Van Diemen’s Land, it was time to weigh anchor for Providence and Assistant and start another long haul, this time the 3,500-nautical-mile final stage of the voyage to Tahiti. But before venturing on to the Tasman Sea and sailing towards New Zealand’s southern cape, Bligh took time to survey and map interesting features surrounding Storm Bay, and to the north around what is now the Tasman Peninsula.

Fortunately, when they were established on the course to the south - east -by-east towards New Zealand, it was high summer in the southern hemisphere, a climatic influence that would wear well with the crews. It was the best possible time for them to be sailing deep into the Roaring Forties – the zone between forty and fifty degrees south latitude renowned for howling westerly gales and mauling, mountainous breaking seas.

Unfortunately for Bligh, though, the longer this voyage progressed, the more unstable his health became. It would be easy to accept that his body was still trying to recover from the dire ravages of the launch voyage, little more than three years earlier. On many occasions, the severity of his crippling headaches required him to hand over the everyday operation of the ship to his senior officers. They could only watch helplessly during the month of March as their captain, often bedridden, endured pain so debilitating and excruciating that his face became distorted on one side due to the stress associated with twisted muscles.

There was no option but to press on and hope Bligh would pull through. As was usual when sailing to Tahiti from the west, the required course saw Providence and Assistant held well to the south of the latitude of the island, just so they could ride the south-east trade wind to the destination. It was a circuitous route, but the fastest, safest and easiest.

For Bligh, as ill as he was, there would be a wonderful bonus on this route - an explorer’s equivalent of striking gold. He made yet another discovery, a beautiful low -profile atoll which is today known as Tematangi, but sometimes referred to as Bligh’s Lagoon Island. Its location, at 21" 40′ S; 140" 40′ W, placed it about 500 nautical miles south-east of Tahiti, and ironically, much the same distance to the north -west of Pitcairn Island, where the Bounty mutineers were by then holed up in their secret world. It was 5 April, and Bligh elected not to stop at the atoll which, from their position about three miles off shore, appeared uninhabited, yet apparently it was.

Three days later the active volcanic peak of Mehetia came into view It was important that sailors saw it because it was the signpost to Tahiti for square -rigged ships running down the trades on a course to the north -west. Apart from confirming Providence was on course, the sighting of Mehetia meant it was less than forty -eight hours before they would anchor in Matavai Bay. Bligh assembled his entire crew and addressed them on procedures, and what he expected of them, once there. He was most emphatic on three points: no one was to mention the death of Captain Cook, the loss of Bounty, or that they were there to collect breadfruit. Furthermore, he outlined strict regulations relating to ship’s discipline and anyone associating with the islanders, adding that he promised ‘disgrace and punishment to those who disobeyed’ his orders.

After Tahiti loomed into view Providence made her way along the eastern side of the island before being guided around Point Venus and sailing into the sheltered waters of the bay. Obviously the islanders had no idea their latest visitors included their much -loved Bligh, but still the same enthusiastic welcome awaited both ships. The men watched with great interest as canoes full of eager islanders paddled towards the ship, then were surprised to see a whaleboat among them. Bligh soon learned the men aboard were some of the twenty-one survivors of the English whaler Matilda, which had been wrecked at night on a reef near Mururoa Atoll a few months earlier.

The 450 -ton Matilda had transported convicts to Sydney before sailing to Peru then back into the Pacific in search of whales. Everyone survived the wreck, and once they struggled aboard the ship’s four boats they sailed in company downwind for Tahiti. Soon after their arrival a small ship, Jenny, arrived in Tahiti and later took the captain, Matthew Weatherhead, and four crewmen to America, ostensibly to arrange a rescue mission. Three of the crew in Tahiti decided they couldn’t wait and rigged one of the whaleboats with sails made from matting, then set out for Port Jackson. This boat was not dissimilar in design and dimensions to the launch Bligh and his exiles had sailed from Tofua to Timor, but sadly these men from Matilda were never seen again.

Hearing the tale from the remaining men was an all -too -bold reminder for Bligh and his crew of the life-threatening dangers all seafarers faced when sailing through the vast and uncharted waters that Providence and Assistant had just traversed, and would soon encounter between Tahiti and Torres Strait.

Bligh was eager to learn what he could of the mutineers and whether Captain Edwards had had any success in his hunt for them, and the islanders were equally keen to tell him all they knew – about Bounty returning twice to the island, of who stayed there and who left aboard the ship for an unknown destination. He learned there were several young girls and boys on the island who had been fathered by some of the renegades.

Within days of Providence arriving, word had reached Chief Tynah that Bligh had returned and he immediately made for Matavai Bay to renew the friendship he had enjoyed with the captain three years earlier. This reunion led to the mission securing the utmost support from the islanders for the collection of breadfruit plants, a task that would be considerably quicker than the Bounty experience, because at this time of year the seedlings quickly established themselves to a point where they could safely be potted and transported.

While the botanists did their work, Bligh made an observation that was causing him great concern. He believed a rot had set in within Tahitian society as a consequence of visits from foreign ships. The paradise of the Tahiti he had seen during the Bounty visit was being corrupted by European visitors, and it would never be the same. ‘Our friends here have benefitted little from their intercourse with Europeans,’ he lamented. ‘Our countrymen have taught them such vile expression as are in the mouth of every Tahitian, and I declare that I would rather forfeit anything than to have been in the list of ships that have touched here since April, 1789.’

Bligh, a man who considered himself honourable in all things, continued to be alarmed at the changes in Tahitian customs and culture since his first visit. Local guests he invited aboard this time had changed their taste from wine to rum and, he noted bitterly, that owing to ‘the quantity of old clothes left among these people … they wear such rags as truly disgust us. It is rare to see a person dressed in a neat piece of cloth which formerly they had in abundance and wore with much elegance … they are no longer clean Tahitians, but in appearance a set of ragamuffins with whom it is necessary to observe great caution.’

Bligh’s health was again at a low ebb. The savage migraines that had struck him down during the voyage persisted and, making matters worse, the high humidity in Tahiti was sapping his energy. On many evenings he sought respite and solitude by going ashore and bathing in the cool waters of an island stream.

However, even when his health was at its nadir, the thirty -seven -year -old commander was still driven by a steely determination to prove his supporters, particularly Sir Joseph Banks, justified in their faith in him for this mission.

By 16 July 1792 the first of the three stages of this mission was nearly complete: Providence and Assistant were fully loaded and ready to depart for the return voyage to England via the West Indies. This would take them on a course to the west above the Tropic of Capricorn and south of the equator, one that would hopefully see them negotiate the dangers of Torres Strait before rounding the Cape of Good Hope and sailing north to the West Indies, where their cargo would be delivered.

Bligh must have been greatly relieved at this time. With the homeward journey about to begin, there had been no friction or confrontation of any significance with his men, and very few floggings. Better still, there was no evidence of unrest among the crew: none had shown any desire to desert despite the temptations of Tahiti that had led the Bounty mutineers astray three years earlier.

Just as Bounty had departed Tahiti a virtual floating nursery, so now did Providence. Bligh’s count was 2,126 breadfruit plants and 500 other plants, including various ‘curiosity’ plants, all meticulously catalogued by the gardeners for Sir Joseph Banks.

Bligh also had extra passengers: fifteen of the rescued survivors from Matilda took up his offer of a safe passage home, while five others had no desire to leave their newfound paradise. Seduced by the beauty of the island, they absconded without trace.

Also aboard Providence was a twenty-two-year -old Tahitian, Mydidee, whom Tynah insisted Bligh take back to England to see and learn all he could before returning to Tahiti. Bligh conceded to this request, having refused Tynah’s pleas that the chief be allowed to go himself. Three days after the two ships set sail, Providence’s crew increased by one more when a stowaway was found hiding below deck. ‘I had not the heart to make him jump overboard,’ Bligh wrote. ‘I conceived he might be useful in Jamaica … therefore directed he should be under the care of the botanists.’