The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty (34 page)
Read The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty Online
Authors: Caroline Alexander
Tags: #History, #Europe, #Great Britain, #Military, #Naval
BOOK: The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty
5.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“The Question my dear Mother in one of your Letters concerning my swimming off to the Pandora is one Falsity among the
too many
in which I have often thought of undeceiving you & as frequently forgot,” Peter began, as it were clearing his throat. Shackled in his dark prison with the prospect of the trial for his life now imminent, Peter allowed his mind to return to the island he loved, and to those few hours in which the entire balance of his life had been upset. On that fair and breezy morning in March 1791, he had left his house just after first daylight, setting out for the mountains with two Tahitian friends. He had gone about one hundred yards when a man came hastening after them to say that a ship had been spotted. Running to a place of rising ground that made a lookout, Peter had seen “with the utmost Joy” the
Pandora
laying off Hapiano, “a District two or three Miles to Windward of Matavia where I lived.” Thinking immediately to share “such pleasing News” with his friend Coleman, who lived a mile and a half away, Peter had sent off one of his servants to alert him. On hearing the word, Coleman had at once set out in a canoe for the
Pandora;
Coleman’s reluctance to remain with the mutineers had never seriously been questioned by anyone. Coleman attempted to intercept the ship as she was tacking into Matavai Bay, but the wind tippled his canoe, he capsized and was picked up by the
Pandora.
Meanwhile, Peter was onshore with his messmate Stewart, ready to set out with a double canoe, eventually reaching the
Pandora
as she streamed her anchor buoy.
too many
in which I have often thought of undeceiving you & as frequently forgot,” Peter began, as it were clearing his throat. Shackled in his dark prison with the prospect of the trial for his life now imminent, Peter allowed his mind to return to the island he loved, and to those few hours in which the entire balance of his life had been upset. On that fair and breezy morning in March 1791, he had left his house just after first daylight, setting out for the mountains with two Tahitian friends. He had gone about one hundred yards when a man came hastening after them to say that a ship had been spotted. Running to a place of rising ground that made a lookout, Peter had seen “with the utmost Joy” the
Pandora
laying off Hapiano, “a District two or three Miles to Windward of Matavia where I lived.” Thinking immediately to share “such pleasing News” with his friend Coleman, who lived a mile and a half away, Peter had sent off one of his servants to alert him. On hearing the word, Coleman had at once set out in a canoe for the
Pandora;
Coleman’s reluctance to remain with the mutineers had never seriously been questioned by anyone. Coleman attempted to intercept the ship as she was tacking into Matavai Bay, but the wind tippled his canoe, he capsized and was picked up by the
Pandora.
Meanwhile, Peter was onshore with his messmate Stewart, ready to set out with a double canoe, eventually reaching the
Pandora
as she streamed her anchor buoy.
As for being taken for a native: “being dressed in the
country
Manner, tanned as brown as themselves & tattowed like them in the most curious Manner, I do not in the least wonder at their taking us for
Natives,
” wrote Peter, rather breezily and with a just detectable note of pride.
country
Manner, tanned as brown as themselves & tattowed like them in the most curious Manner, I do not in the least wonder at their taking us for
Natives,
” wrote Peter, rather breezily and with a just detectable note of pride.
And as for those tattoos: “I was tattowed, not to gratify my own Desire, but their’s,” he wrote defensively. In Tahiti, tattoos brought esteem; the more tattoos a man had, the more he was respected. A man without tattoos was an outcast. Besides, as Peter concluded, “I always made it a Maxim ‘When I was in Rome to act as Rome did.’ . . . ”
For Mrs. Heywood, whose life had been mostly lived within the bounds of Douglas and Cumberland, these images her son conjured so casually—“the Mountains,” “my house,” the lookout point over Matavai Bay, the shore, his tattoos—must have seemed both threateningly vivid and incomprehensibly mysterious. Although, like most Englishwomen from strong, naval traditions, she had personally heard firsthand accounts of the West Indies or the Leeward Islands, North America, India or China, the glimpses Peter offered of an entire, alternate life were confounding. “I was an universal Favorite amongst those Indians,” he declared in this same letter, “& perfectly conversant in their Language. . . . I was the greatest favorite of any Englishman on Shore & treated with respect by every Person on the Island in whose Mouths
my
Name ever was, as an Object of their Love and Esteem.” Again, that near boastful, almost defiant tone: “perhaps you may think I flatter myself, but I really do not. Adieu my dearest Mother believe me your truly dutiful & most obedient Son,” and Peter had signed off.
my
Name ever was, as an Object of their Love and Esteem.” Again, that near boastful, almost defiant tone: “perhaps you may think I flatter myself, but I really do not. Adieu my dearest Mother believe me your truly dutiful & most obedient Son,” and Peter had signed off.
If his mother had not yet taken in the fact that the sojourn in Tahiti, during which her son had lived tanned and tattooed like a native, had changed him forever, one must suspect that Peter himself knew. What it cost him to conjure those green, cloud-tinged mountains, the neat and friendly plantations, the rattle of palms over Matavai’s black beach, his home and wife in the gun-room prison is impossible to imagine. As each day closed, and the long bars of light vanished from the gun ports, he was left to contemplate many weighty issues; his approaching trial would bring either death, or life and freedom. And if the latter—then what?
Several days later, Hood departed for the Admiralty in London to give a report of his cruise. Around this time, the Admiralty sent notices in turn to those who were to appear at the court-martial. This included John Fryer, currently superintendent master at Chatham Dockyard; William Cole, now boatswain of the
Irresistible
at Pasley’s port, Sheerness; the cantankerous William Purcell, now carpenter of the
Inspector
at Deptford yard; and William Peckover, the gunner on the
Ocean
at Woolwich. John Hallett was to travel the farthest, from Loch Ryan in Scotland. Captain Edwards seems to have been in London, while other of the
Pandora
’s men were still quartered on the
Vengeance,
Pasley’s ship. Robert Tinkler, John Fryer’s young brother-in-law, was not summoned; why he was not is unclear, but in the event this was fortunate for the Heywoods. The fact that young Tinkler had just turned fourteen at the time he joined Bligh and Fryer in the open boat would have been highly inconvenient to Peter’s plea of “youth and inexperience.”
Irresistible
at Pasley’s port, Sheerness; the cantankerous William Purcell, now carpenter of the
Inspector
at Deptford yard; and William Peckover, the gunner on the
Ocean
at Woolwich. John Hallett was to travel the farthest, from Loch Ryan in Scotland. Captain Edwards seems to have been in London, while other of the
Pandora
’s men were still quartered on the
Vengeance,
Pasley’s ship. Robert Tinkler, John Fryer’s young brother-in-law, was not summoned; why he was not is unclear, but in the event this was fortunate for the Heywoods. The fact that young Tinkler had just turned fourteen at the time he joined Bligh and Fryer in the open boat would have been highly inconvenient to Peter’s plea of “youth and inexperience.”
Pasley had already met a number of these “evidences” and had made some encouraging progress; indeed, the commander in chief in the Medway seemed to have been spending a great deal of time away from his station at Sheerness. After meeting with Cole and Fryer, Pasley reported to Peter that he had found “both favourable witnesses”—although it is difficult to imagine how he could possibly have found his meeting with Fryer reassuring. It was Fryer who had, after all, stated to his wife in his letter from Batavia that “the captain & me were surprised by Misters Christian, Stewart, Young & Haywood & the Master at Arms.” But perhaps the embittered master, under the urgent, imposing—and flattering—attention of Commander in Chief Pasley, had begun to recollect events somewhat differently.
“Keep up your spirits,” Fryer now took it upon himself to write to Peter, in the wake of Pasley’s visit. “[F]or I am of opinion no one can say you had an active part in the mutiny; and be assured of my doing you justice when called upon.”
In addition to seeking out the witnesses one by one for close questioning, Pasley had also been to the Admiralty to read the various depositions submitted by Bligh and his officers on the loss of the
Bounty,
as well as the minutes of Bligh’s own court-martial. Nothing in these, Pasley was reassured to see, had specifically implicated Peter. He also made a personal visit to Captain Edwards—“that
Fellow,
” as he indignantly called him, whose “inhuman Rigour of Confinement” of the prisoners he would never forget; “even” Edwards had allowed that Peter had voluntarily identified himself as “late of the
Bounty
” when he had come aboard the
Pandora.
Bounty,
as well as the minutes of Bligh’s own court-martial. Nothing in these, Pasley was reassured to see, had specifically implicated Peter. He also made a personal visit to Captain Edwards—“that
Fellow,
” as he indignantly called him, whose “inhuman Rigour of Confinement” of the prisoners he would never forget; “even” Edwards had allowed that Peter had voluntarily identified himself as “late of the
Bounty
” when he had come aboard the
Pandora.
But from a legal point of view, the nub of the issue—as Pasley was compelled to remind Nessy—was that “the Man who stands Neuter is equally guilty with him who lifts his arms against his Captain.” It was not enough to prove that Peter had not actively abetted the mutineers; acquittal could be won only if it could be shown he had helped resist them.
Almost from the outset, Peter had been benefiting from the friendly advice of John Delafons. But what Pasley now had in mind was someone who could offer coaching and a proper legal strategy. When the matter was put to Peter’s family, they had instantly declared that only Erskine and Mingay could be trusted to represent their Peter: Lord Erskine and James Mingay were two of the most eminent lawyers of the day, as well as the most fiery and intimidating. Mingay had lost his right hand in an accident and had replaced it with a hook, which he wielded to great effect in the courtroom. However, as Pasley pointed out, a gift for fiery oratory would be to no point since barristers could not “exhibit” at a naval court-martial, which was not run like a civil trial. A naval court would first summon the various evidences for the prosecution, who could in turn be cross-examined both by the court and directly by the individual defendants. In the second part of the proceedings, each prisoner would be allowed to give a statement and to call upon witnesses in his defense. His Majesty’s Navy also had an aversion to lawyers, as it turned out, and so what was required was not a high-flying personality, but a sound adviser working discreetly behind the scenes.
“Any sensible sound Lawyer to point out the proper Questions . . . & capable of writing a good defense will answer the Purpose,” Pasley advised Peter. But from subsequent correspondence it appears that Pasley did not quite succeed in making his point. Suddenly a notification came from John Beardsworth of Lincoln’s Inn, the lawyer of Peter’s father, that Francis Const had been hired, and not it appears with Pasley’s blessing.
“I am glad Erskine & Mingay are not retained,” he would later confide to Peter, “and am almost sorry Const is.” The jittery Heywood family appears to have jumped the gun.
On the morning of August 23, Lord Hood raised his flag on the
Duke,
having returned from London the previous night. Pasley received orders to send the
Pandora
’s men by sea round to Portsmouth when they had all finally arrived from Holland, along with William Cole, the
Bounty
boatswain, who was to hitch a ride as a passenger. The other evidences were to make their way to Portsmouth by land. Lieutenant Hayward, also under Pasley’s direction, was to make his way to London for a visit to the Admiralty before venturing on to Portsmouth. As Pasley wrote to Peter, “no Trial can take Place without my knowing it.”
Duke,
having returned from London the previous night. Pasley received orders to send the
Pandora
’s men by sea round to Portsmouth when they had all finally arrived from Holland, along with William Cole, the
Bounty
boatswain, who was to hitch a ride as a passenger. The other evidences were to make their way to Portsmouth by land. Lieutenant Hayward, also under Pasley’s direction, was to make his way to London for a visit to the Admiralty before venturing on to Portsmouth. As Pasley wrote to Peter, “no Trial can take Place without my knowing it.”
Meanwhile, Peter continued to receive a stream of helpful directives. Following Mrs. Bertie’s advice, he ordered a suit for his court appearance and, abetted by her feminine eye for detail, a mourning band of black crepe for the memory of his father. More relatives and well-wishers entered the picture. Attorney John Beardsworth was now also advising. Uncle Colonel James Holwell, writing from his estate near Tunbridge Wells, in Kent, offered the kind of sentimental support that was welcome, but ultimately to no purpose.
“[Y]ou have given of filial duty . . . to the best of parents,” wrote Colonel Holwell; he himself was the son of the heroic Governor Zephaniah Holwell, a director of the East India Company and one of the few survivors of the Black Hole of Calcutta. “[Y]our education has been the best; & from these considerations alone without the very least evidence of your own Testimony, I would as soon believe the Archbishop of Canterbury would set fire to the city of London, as suppose you could directly or indirectly join in such a d——d piece of Business.”
With time running out, Pasley was keenly aware that although much useful background work had been done, Peter was still not prepared specifically to face his day in court. And it was with matters in this irresolute state that a man who was to become one of the most important figures in Peter’s life entered the family picture.
“A Friend of Mine, Mr. Graham who has been Secretary to the different Admirals on the Newfoundland Station for these twelve years, consequently Judge Advocate at Court-Martials all that Time, has offered me to attend you,” wrote Pasley to Peter, the dark clouds that had oppressed him visibly parting. “[H]e has a thorough Knowledge of the Service, uncommon Abilities, & is a very good Lawyer—he conducted Capt. P—’s Court Martial who wou’d have been broke unassisted by him.”
Aaron Graham had first met Pasley in 1771, when at nineteen he had served as clerk on the
Sea Horse
under Pasley’s command off the coast of Africa. He seems to have impressed Pasley even then, as he was to impress other superiors in his somewhat unorthodox naval career. For it was, as one memorial stated, in
civil
service—the business art of balancing accounts and numbers and adroit paperwork—not strictly in naval work, that Graham excelled: “At length, in consequence of his abilities, and conciliating manners, he was appointed secretary to a Flag Ship, and in this capacity, attained the friendship and confidence of all the Admirals with whom he sailed, no less by the amiableness of his disposition, than by a strict and scrupulous integrity, that invited investigation, and set suspicion at defiance”—so curious and suggestive is this last sentence that the memorial is worth quoting in full.
Sea Horse
under Pasley’s command off the coast of Africa. He seems to have impressed Pasley even then, as he was to impress other superiors in his somewhat unorthodox naval career. For it was, as one memorial stated, in
civil
service—the business art of balancing accounts and numbers and adroit paperwork—not strictly in naval work, that Graham excelled: “At length, in consequence of his abilities, and conciliating manners, he was appointed secretary to a Flag Ship, and in this capacity, attained the friendship and confidence of all the Admirals with whom he sailed, no less by the amiableness of his disposition, than by a strict and scrupulous integrity, that invited investigation, and set suspicion at defiance”—so curious and suggestive is this last sentence that the memorial is worth quoting in full.
Aaron Graham had been born in Gosport, close by Portsmouth Harbour. He had, then, grown up within sight of the glorious comings and goings of His Majesty’s fleets. Graham’s naval service seems to have been clerical rather than nautical from the beginning. After impressing Pasley, he had moved on to other ships before landing on the Newfoundland station. In this bleak and remote outpost of British jurisdiction, Graham officially served as secretary to four successive governors, but his gift for bureaucratic duties ensured that he wore many unofficial hats and essentially ran the station. Quietly, unthreateningly, adroitly, he was the ingratiating subordinate who mastered any task or crisis, and on whom his grateful superiors came to rely. Graham superintended all things afloat; he cheerfully handled all paperwork and all legal issues; he organized theatrical events; he was also an agent for prizes, thereby obtaining a share of all that was captured by the station during the American war. On his return to England in late 1791, he was appointed a police magistrate.
Graham, we are told by his memorial, was “rather under the middle size.” He was neat in dress and person, with unoffensive manners, “insinuating in his address.” He was constantly employed, it would seem, in helping deserving superior officers, with money, with advice, just as he had now stepped forward to offer assistance to Peter Heywood.
Other books
A Darker Place by Jack Higgins
His Naughty Little Mate by Sue Lyndon
Undeniable by Bill Nye
Centaur Rising by Jane Yolen
For Better or Worse by Delaney Diamond
Desafío by Alyson Noel
Behind the Walls by Merry Jones
In the Arms of a Soldier by Makenna Jameison
The Bulgari Connection by Fay Weldon
A Season for the Heart by Chater, Elizabeth
