Read The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty Online
Authors: Caroline Alexander
Tags: #History, #Europe, #Great Britain, #Military, #Naval
The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty (53 page)
BOOK: The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty
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Since 1789, Bligh and his wife had lived in Lambeth, a pleasant, airy neighborhood on the south bank of the Thames backed by woods and meadows where foxgloves and columbine grew wild, and some twenty minutes’ walk from Westminster Bridge. The front rooms faced a large green park, on which in later years Bethlem—or “Bedlam”—Hospital would be built. This modest but elegant brick house was to be the Blighs’ home for nearly thirty years, and it was here that William Bligh now returned to his loving wife and daughters.
“My Little Flock are anxious to see me,” Bligh had written to Banks, by way of apologizing for not coming to call on him immediately upon his return. Away from the glare of the Pacific sun that had racked his head and inflamed his eyes, he looked forward to rest in the bosom of his family.
Bligh had left England something of a national hero, and indeed the Admiralty’s decision to mount a second, more costly expedition for the breadfruit they appear to have cared so little about was in some part a statement of support and confidence in him. But the
Providence
and Bligh returned to a very different political landscape from the one they had left. England was now determinedly at war with her oldest enemy, and rumblings of revolutionary leanings similar to those roiling France were worrisomely present in England. Toward the end of October, the
Times
ran a “very extraordinary report” that as Earl Fitzwilliam was passing through Sheffield in his post chaise, a mob had confiscated the leading pair of his four horses, “observing that two horses were enough for any man.” Such incidents, increasingly common in manufacturing towns, bespoke a simmering popular rage that could swiftly turn more murderous.
Providence
and Bligh returned to a very different political landscape from the one they had left. England was now determinedly at war with her oldest enemy, and rumblings of revolutionary leanings similar to those roiling France were worrisomely present in England. Toward the end of October, the
Times
ran a “very extraordinary report” that as Earl Fitzwilliam was passing through Sheffield in his post chaise, a mob had confiscated the leading pair of his four horses, “observing that two horses were enough for any man.” Such incidents, increasingly common in manufacturing towns, bespoke a simmering popular rage that could swiftly turn more murderous.
Once again, then, Bligh was reminded that he was no longer in the age of Captain Cook, when dangerous voyages to exotic places received universal acclamation. Tahiti and the South Pacific were by now old news, in any case, and the successful importation of 1,164 breadfruit trees and other useful plants to the West Indies was not high on the Admiralty’s list of events to celebrate.
Less explicable and more disconcerting was the evidence, subtle at first, that the political landscape had also changed within the Admiralty.
Bligh was to receive several clues that he was no longer held with the regard befitting a heroic survivor of the
Bounty,
one of which came in the form of a niggling piece of bureaucratic paperwork. On receiving his pay, Bligh was shocked to discover that he had been given reduced wages for his service as captain of the
Providence.
Bounty,
one of which came in the form of a niggling piece of bureaucratic paperwork. On receiving his pay, Bligh was shocked to discover that he had been given reduced wages for his service as captain of the
Providence.
“I am informed at the Navy Office, that being Captain & Purser, I am not entitled to any more; the profit of the Pursery being given to the Captain to make up for the two shillings a day taken from his pay,” Bligh protested to the Admiralty Board. He had not, as he pointed out, been informed at the outset that he was to undertake the arduous expedition on reduced pay. Moreover, while professional pursers were accustomed to turning their profit by clever buying and selling and stinting of supplies, in the case of the
Providence
voyage, Bligh had made no profit whatsoever.
Providence
voyage, Bligh had made no profit whatsoever.
“Of those profits I shall not receive sufficient to clear my expenses,” he wrote indignantly, “which have been occasioned in contribution to the comfort of every individual who was under my command and what were necessary for the outfit of such a voyage.” If he had stinted his men, he would have come out ahead; but he had not, and so would now be out of pocket.
As distressing, and humiliating to Bligh personally, was the failure of any of his men to be advanced by promotion. As the father of one of the lieutenants was to observe, “I believe it is the first instance of any such voyage, even when unsuccessful, not being followed by promotion.”
The highly personal nature of the Admiralty’s new coolness was brought home to Bligh in a very English way. For weeks following his return, Bligh trekked to Westminster Bridge and across the Thames to the Admiralty Office at Whitehall. Here, in the imposing high-ceilinged reception corridor, which so many great men had crossed, Bligh had patiently awaited, or “attended,” an audience with Lord Chatham.
But while Bligh continued to attend “from time to time,” he never gained admittance. Other captains came, paid their respects and went as Captain Bligh was left to cool his heels very publicly outside. It appears that Joseph Banks attempted to calm Bligh’s mounting anxiety regarding his lordship’s “unaccountable conduct”; Banks had written a long letter to Lord Chatham praising Bligh’s accomplishments and comparing them to those of Cook, shortly after the expedition’s return. Nonetheless, in late September, there occurred an incident that rendered all polite pretexts beside the point. While Bligh continued his humiliating vigil, Lieutenant Portlock—his lieutenant, his junior officer—was called inside.
“Astonished at this I determined to have it accounted for,” Bligh wrote, distraught, to Banks. Accordingly, he was informed by the Admiralty secretary that his lordship had deferred seeing Bligh “untill he had leisure to have half an hours conversation.” But such smooth reassurances could not be trusted. As Bligh told Banks, “His Lordship not seeing me is certainly a slight.”
That the problem, whatever its cause, lay squarely in Admiralty circles was demonstrated by a more gratifying circumstance: a visit from Prince William Henry, the Duke of Clarence, who invited Bligh to dine with him at Richmond. “[H]ere is an officer that has acquitted himself in the highest manner, and the First Lord of the Admiralty would not see him!” Bligh reported that the Duke exclaimed. Whatever mischief had transpired had apparently not seeped outside Admiralty circles—yet.
Ironically, Bligh’s men—or at least Francis Bond—may have been more apprised of the causes of this unaccountable conduct than was their captain. In November 1792, Lieutenant Bond’s brother left a letter for him in Jamaica, to await his arrival with the
Providence.
In addition to news of events in France (“Poor Royalists and other innocent people to the amount of not less than 10,000 were coolly and deliberately Massacred in Paris”), Thomas Bond’s letter contained a report on the mutineers’ court-martial. Six men had been condemned to die, he wrote, and three had been executed on board the
Brunswick.
Heywood and Morrison had been pardoned.
Providence.
In addition to news of events in France (“Poor Royalists and other innocent people to the amount of not less than 10,000 were coolly and deliberately Massacred in Paris”), Thomas Bond’s letter contained a report on the mutineers’ court-martial. Six men had been condemned to die, he wrote, and three had been executed on board the
Brunswick.
Heywood and Morrison had been pardoned.
“Heywood’s friends, have bribed through thick and thin to save him, and from publick report, have not been backward in
defaming our Uncles character,
” wrote Thomas Bond, adding that “Government in my Judgment, should have waited until Captn. Blighs arrival in England, before those Mutineers were brought to trial.”
defaming our Uncles character,
” wrote Thomas Bond, adding that “Government in my Judgment, should have waited until Captn. Blighs arrival in England, before those Mutineers were brought to trial.”
Between the time of confinement of the mutineers on the
Hector
and the return of the
Providence
in August 1793, a sea change had been wrought in Bligh’s reputation. This development was made unequivocally clear by none other than Pasley, now commodore in the Channel Fleet under Lord Howe.
Hector
and the return of the
Providence
in August 1793, a sea change had been wrought in Bligh’s reputation. This development was made unequivocally clear by none other than Pasley, now commodore in the Channel Fleet under Lord Howe.
“Your Capt. will meet a very hard reception,” Pasley wrote to former
Providence
midshipman Matthew Flinders with grim satisfaction. “[H]e has Damn’d himself.”
Providence
midshipman Matthew Flinders with grim satisfaction. “[H]e has Damn’d himself.”
But this last was untrue. Bligh’s reception was the result of considerable, at times concerted, outside effort. While the Heywood family connections and interest-making had done damage within Admiralty and naval circles, the most public and audacious attack on Bligh was to come from, of all quarters, Fletcher Christian’s family.
All had not gone well for the Christians over the years since the
Bounty
had sailed. Mrs. Christian still lived in semi-exile on the Isle of Man. Her eldest son, John Christian, the attorney whose bankruptcy had resulted in the very public Cockermouth auction, on the death of his first wife married the widow of a sugar merchant, residing in Pall Mall, London, who was twenty-three years his senior. Then, he died in 1791, at the age of only thirty-nine, “of a gradual decay.”
Bounty
had sailed. Mrs. Christian still lived in semi-exile on the Isle of Man. Her eldest son, John Christian, the attorney whose bankruptcy had resulted in the very public Cockermouth auction, on the death of his first wife married the widow of a sugar merchant, residing in Pall Mall, London, who was twenty-three years his senior. Then, he died in 1791, at the age of only thirty-nine, “of a gradual decay.”
On the return of his disastrous voyage in the
Middlesex,
the third son, Charles, settled in medical practice in Hull, where he was known throughout the town for the “successful Extirpation of Two Womens’ Breasts” on account of cancerous afflictions. By 1795, however, his lodgings in the house of a “black-eyed Widow” would cause a local wit to write some facetious “Doggrel Rhyme,” and he would move to Leicester. Poor Charles’s memoir is a tangled, at times almost incomprehensible, litany of improbable misfortunes and calumnies, goading him onward to ever more confused and high-flown protestations of honor. The youngest Christian son, Humphrey, had died on the coast of Africa in his early twenties—“shortly after reading the account of the mutiny,” as a family document pointedly records, although given the death rates at African stations, it is most likely that ill health, not the shock of his brother’s deed, killed him.
Middlesex,
the third son, Charles, settled in medical practice in Hull, where he was known throughout the town for the “successful Extirpation of Two Womens’ Breasts” on account of cancerous afflictions. By 1795, however, his lodgings in the house of a “black-eyed Widow” would cause a local wit to write some facetious “Doggrel Rhyme,” and he would move to Leicester. Poor Charles’s memoir is a tangled, at times almost incomprehensible, litany of improbable misfortunes and calumnies, goading him onward to ever more confused and high-flown protestations of honor. The youngest Christian son, Humphrey, had died on the coast of Africa in his early twenties—“shortly after reading the account of the mutiny,” as a family document pointedly records, although given the death rates at African stations, it is most likely that ill health, not the shock of his brother’s deed, killed him.
The only member of Fletcher’s immediate family who was flourishing was his elder brother, Edward, the Cambridge-educated lawyer who had been responsible for deftly finessing his mother’s finances after she had been declared bankrupt.
A Christian family historian—herself a Christian—noted that “somehow or another there was a strain of eccentricity” among Fletcher’s brothers. On the one hand, Edward’s career at Cambridge had been full of prizes and full of promise. In 1793, he was a “First Downing Professor of the Laws of England” at Cambridge and was busy preparing what would become a highly successful edition of
Blackstone’s Commentaries,
an invaluable legal compendium.
Blackstone’s Commentaries,
an invaluable legal compendium.
On the other hand, as early as Edward’s student days, anecdotes had begun to circulate about his oddities. When some newly planted trees were destroyed in the gardens of his college, for instance, according to a classmate Edward “was requested to draw up a hand bill, offering one hundred pounds reward for the discovery of the offenders.” The subsequent bills were so absurd that friends at first believed them to have been made by “some enemy of Christian’s in order to render him ridiculous.” While offering the reward, Edward had also described the destruction of trees “as being a
capital offence,
punishable with death under the black act; he strongly recommended the perpetrators to come forward & acknowledge their guilt, but he did not offer impunity to them for doing so.”
capital offence,
punishable with death under the black act; he strongly recommended the perpetrators to come forward & acknowledge their guilt, but he did not offer impunity to them for doing so.”
Edward Christian was brought into the
Bounty
fray, as he claimed, in November 1792, when he received an unexpected and shocking letter:
Bounty
fray, as he claimed, in November 1792, when he received an unexpected and shocking letter:
Sir,I am sorry to say I have been informed you were inclined to judge too harshly of your truly unfortunate brother; and to think of him in such a manner as I am conscious, from the knowledge I had of his most worthy disposition and character, (both public and private,) he merits not in the slightest degree: therefore I think it my duty to undeceive you, and to re-kindle the flame of brotherly love (or
pity
now) towards him, which, I fear, the false reports of slander and vile suspicion may have nearly extinguished.Excuse my freedom, Sir:—If it would not be disagreeable to you, I will do myself the pleasure of waiting upon you; and endeavour to prove that your brother was not that vile wretch, void of all gratitude, which the world had the unkindness to think him; but, on the contrary, a most worthy character; ruined only by having the misfortune, (if it can be so called) of being a young man of strict honour, and adorned with every virtue; and beloved by all (except one, whose ill report is his greatest praise) who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.I am, Sir, with esteem . . .
The letter, dated November 5, was run in the
Cumberland Paquet
two weeks later, and quickly picked up by London papers. In the newspaper the author was identified only as “an officer late of the Bounty”; but in the papers Edward eventually passed along to Joseph Banks, it was evident that it had been written from Aaron Graham’s home on Great Russell Street, by “P. Heywood.”
Cumberland Paquet
two weeks later, and quickly picked up by London papers. In the newspaper the author was identified only as “an officer late of the Bounty”; but in the papers Edward eventually passed along to Joseph Banks, it was evident that it had been written from Aaron Graham’s home on Great Russell Street, by “P. Heywood.”
Whether the letter was the bolt from the blue that Edward claimed, it was by any reckoning an extraordinarily ill-advised and provocative act on Peter’s part; had he expressed any such sentiment in the courtroom, it is doubtful that all the family interest in the world could have saved him—among other things, it tended to give credence to Hallett’s contention that he had laughed at his captain’s predicament. It was also a blatant contradiction of his defense statement that from Bligh’s “attention to and very kind treatment of me personally, I should have been a Monster of depravity to have betray’d him.” It may be that Peter never intended for the letter to be aired in a public forum, let alone with his name attached, and had presumed that a professor of law could have been counted on to receive his bold gesture with careful tact—if so, he had not been apprised of the character of Edward Christian. On the other hand, it is possible that the letter had been a calculated move, already ventured to the Christian family. Nessy’s earlier confidential correspondence with John Christian Curwen indicates that there were ready lines of communication between these two related families, with their shared Cumbria-Manx backgrounds. It is, moreover, difficult to believe that Peter would have drafted such a letter in Aaron Graham’s home without his approval—and Graham always looked to the big picture.
BOOK: The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty
8.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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