The Bounty Mutiny

Sailors Seduced by the South Seas

by Mark Cartwright

The 1789 mutiny on the Bounty is an infamous tale of sailors being lured by the easy charms of the South Seas into casting adrift their commander and living out their days as fugitives from the Royal Navy. 'Captain' Bligh, victim of the mutiny led by master's mate Fletcher Christian, is traditionally cast as a harsh disciplinarian who only got what was coming to him. As so often with tales which have captured the imagination through countless books and films, the true events are rather more complex. The only clear facts are that Bligh was exonerated for the mutiny, some of the mutineers were caught and hanged, while Christian led another group to live out their days on remote Pitcairn Island. Woven in amongst these more certain points are tantalizing threads of speculation and fiction. The mutiny on the Bounty is a tale of floggings, murder, and two incredible escapes, one from the sea and another from justice.

A Botanical Expedition

In 1787, the new 'captain' of the Royal Navy's Bounty was 33-year-old Lieutenant William Bligh. Bligh was experienced, but as the Bounty was a small ship, a mere cutter, naval regulations did not necessitate its commanding officer hold the rank of captain. This was to be Bligh's first disappointment in connection with the infamous expedition, and certainly not his last.

Bounty II Dan Kasberger (CC BY-SA)

The British Admiralty assigned Bligh the task of sailing to Tahiti in the South Pacific, where he was to collect as many specimens of the breadfruit plant (Artocarpus incisa) – so called because its large fruit resembled bread – as he could spare space and water for. Bligh was then instructed to transport these wholesome plants to the West Indies, where they would be used to feed slaves working on plantations. A secondary objective of the voyage was to chart the straits between New Holland and New Guinea. Bligh was familiar with the arduous route to Tahiti, since he had visited ten years before, while serving under Captain James Cook.

Seamen were only too eager to disappear on any shore that looked favourable to a permanent escape from the navy.

The Bounty's master's mate was Fletcher Christian, and he would be the ringleader of the infamous mutiny. Christian seemed unable to get on with his captain despite having sailed under him on two previous voyages and only getting his position on the Bounty on Bligh's recommendation. But of Bligh and Christian, who was really the hero and who was the villain? Tradition has it that Bligh was an extremely harsh captain, and so sympathies often lie with Christian. In fact, Bligh was rather more lenient than most naval captains, but this may have been the cause of his downfall. Seamen got regular pay and plenty of grog, but on a long voyage, all sailors expected nothing less than cramped conditions, diabolical food, and harsh discipline if they stepped out of line. For most men, their profession was not a chosen one; they found themselves at sea because they had no other work options. For this very reason, a commander and his officers had to keep a watchful eye on the ordinary seamen, many of whom were only too eager to disappear on any shore that looked favourable to a permanent escape from the navy.

Life on the Bounty

Bligh had to deal with several disadvantages on what was already a long and tedious route to the fabled island of Tahiti. First off, Bligh did not even benefit from the ship's spacious commander's cabin since this, with its handy skylights, had already been converted into a nursery for the breadfruit plants and was complete with a water recycling system and a stove to cosset the delicate plants in cooler climates. Secondly, the Admiralty had delayed his departure, meaning Bligh was bound to hit hard weather when the Bounty attempted to round Cape Horn. Indeed, the Bounty spent a month trying to round this treacherous cape, and, eventually, Bligh was obliged to give up and sail to Tahiti via the much longer route around the Cape of Good Hope and across the Indian Ocean. This change of plan meant an extra 10,000 miles of sea to cross, something that would test the patience and nerves of even the most loyal of crews.

William Bligh Portrait John Condé (Public Domain)

The Bounty was carrying too many men for comfort, but the Admiralty had not seen fit to include in the crowd any armed marines, considered by most captains to be absolutely essential if discipline at sea was to be maintained. Even such a respected captain as Cook never sailed into Pacific waters with fewer than 12 marines on board.

Bligh tried to ease the discomfort of life on the cramped ship by changing from a traditional two-watch day to three-watch day, which allowed each man to enjoy eight hours of unbroken rest. On the other hand, Bligh's insistence on a regular Sunday inspection of all men, where even fingernails were checked for cleanliness, was perhaps less appreciated. Again, though, this strategy to avoid illnesses was not unique; Cook had once withdrawn a seaman's grog allowance when he was found with dirty hands. Bligh also insisted on regular bouts of dancing. The commander thought this the best way to keep the men fit, but most of the crew hated these sessions. Bligh's obsession with health and fitness may have stemmed from his discovery that the ship's surgeon was a drunkard and not much use to anyone. Overall, the Bounty had no unhappier a crew than any other ship. It is perhaps significant that Bligh recorded in his diary that only twice on the outbound voyage had it been necessary to dish out punishment: floggings for two men, one for insubordination and the other for neglecting his duties.

There was a curious incident at the Cape involving the ship's carpenter, who felt Bligh was finding fault where there was none. Words were exchanged, and Bligh was within his rights to court-martial the carpenter. However, Bligh needed the unique skills of this man, and imprisoning him now would only mean he was out of action until the return to England, possibly more than a year away. Bligh decided to be lenient. Perhaps it was at this moment that some of the crew first detected a weakness in their commander.

Tahiti, 1776

William Hodges (Public Domain)

The Charms of Tahiti

After a 10-month voyage, the Bounty arrived in Tahiti to the usual warm welcome the islanders gave naval ships: dancing, food, and garlands of flowers. Bligh soon discovered that breadfruit had its seasons, and he would have to wait five months before specimens could be collected. There was also the matter of the weather; he needed the eastern monsoon to begin, and that, too, was five months away. The Bounty's crew no doubt rejoiced at the prospect of an extended stay in a tropical paradise where food was plentiful and the charms of its women were available for trinkets. There was nothing very much to do, either, except perhaps endure the painful ritual of acquiring a Polynesian tattoo. Many of the men settled down to a life of comfort with a particular Tahitian girl and began to wonder why on earth they would ever want to leave this lush, friendly island. Another lengthy voyage to the West Indies and then across the Atlantic, only to return to miserable, cold, grey England, must have seemed a poor alternative to staying put. The 23-week stay breezed by, the only real complaint of the men being the standard rule that they could on no account indulge in trade with the local people (whose appetite for materials essential to the working of a ship was insatiable).

THE EASY LIFE ON TAHITI HAD CERTAINLY ERODED THE MEN'S ENTHUSIASM FOR THEIR WORK, & DISCIPLINE WAS SLIPPING.

The tentacles of power of the British Admiralty were well-known and rightly feared. With the British Empire built on its navy, a mutiny simply could not be tolerated, no matter where it occurred. Mutineers could not hope to survive long as naval ships hunted them across the Seven Seas. The punishment for violent mutiny was death by hanging. The only chance of escaping such official retribution, and a small chance at that, was to find a remote island far from the usual sailing routes. It was this idea that probably got Fletcher Christian thinking of just what might be possible if the Bounty was taken out of Bligh's hands.

Three other men had already taken drastic action, stealing the ship's cutter. Desertions were not uncommon; Cook had suffered them in all three of his expeditions to the South Seas. The three Bounty deserters were caught soon enough, and each of them was flogged. The standard naval punishment for desertion was at least 100 lashes. Once again, Bligh was lenient. These particular deserters received only 24 or 48 lashes each. This was not the only sign of a lack of discipline and dereliction of duty. The ship's chronometer had been allowed to run down, a rudder and compass had been lost, and stored sails had been left to rot. There were disputes over exactly what orders had been given to shore parties and why they had not been acted upon. The easy life on Tahiti had certainly eroded the men's enthusiasm for their work, and discipline was slipping. Bligh himself noted in his diary, "I have such a neglectful set about me that I believe nothing but condign punishment can alter their conduct" (Alexander, 123).

Breadfruit Plant Hans Hillewaert (CC BY-SA)

 The Mutiny on the Bounty

The Bounty, packed with breadfruit plants, finally left Tahiti in the first week of April 1789. The ship immediately met squalls, and words were exchanged between Bligh and Christian over the latter's neglect of the ship's sails. Christian is reported to have said to his commander: "Sir, your abuse is so bad that I cannot do my duty with any pleasure. I have been in hell for weeks with you." The Bounty briefly stopped for supplies at the Friendly Isles (Tonga), and here Bligh and Christian again exchanged words over an incident where the latter's working party had fraternized with the local people when Bligh had expressly forbidden it. Fearing the loss of valuable equipment, Bligh had been right as an axe and adze were lost one day, and a grapnel the next. Such tools were greatly desired by islanders whose idea of private ownership was somewhat blurred. It is unclear exactly what happened in these incidents, but the end of it was Bligh calling Christian a 'cowardly rascal'.

The Bounty set sail again and headed south of Tofua, another island in the Tonga group. It was then, after weeks of niggly relations between men and officers, that Bligh exploded over the loss of a few coconuts. Interrogating each of his officers, Bligh suspected Christian as the pilferer. Christian denied the accusation, but Bligh publicly called him a hound, scoundrel, and thief. Bligh's diary and log do not record this incident, and Bligh is known to have invited Christian to his dining table, as usual, after it. Christian declined the invitation. The master's mate may have been brooding over Bligh's general threats of floggings. As Christian was effectively 'acting lieutenant' on the Bounty and so an officer, he could not be flogged under Royal Navy rules. On the other hand, he was officially still a master's mate and so could be subject to physical punishment. It may be fear of the disgrace of a flogging that made up Christian's mind to take over the ship. Certainly, Bligh was well-known for his explosive temper and use of threats and foul language. It is quite possible that Bligh threatened Christian with a flogging in the heat of an argument, even if his bark was worse than his bite, and he probably would not have flogged a man of Christian's position.

On 28 April, 23 days after the Bounty left Tahiti, Christian and his 18 supporters made their move. Bligh was roused from his bunk just before dawn and taken on deck at knife-point. Two of the crew did not know who to side with. 22 men decided that joining the mutiny was too great a risk and remained loyal to Bligh. Four non-mutineers had to remain on the Bounty, but the rest were packed with Bligh into the ship's boat and set adrift. The Bounty mutineers jettisoned the 1,000 breadfruit plants and returned to Tahiti to rejoin their "wives", many of whom were pregnant. This was the real reason, Bligh would later state, for the mutiny. The Admiralty's breadfruit expedition was over, but two new and quite separate adventures were about to begin.

Back in their tropical paradise, the mutineers once again enjoyed the Tahitians' hospitality, but it soon dawned on everyone that sooner or later a ship of the Royal Navy would call here and ask embarrassing questions. The mutineers would have to move on.

Mutiny on HMS Bounty

National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London (Public Domain)

Bligh's Epic Voyage

Meanwhile, Bligh was making excellent progress despite sailing a craft not much longer than 23 feet (7 m). With a magnetic compass, sextant, quadrant, and a few nautical almanacs, Bligh, an expert navigator, had all he needed to sail wherever he wanted. As the boat headed west, the real problem was their meagre supply of food and water, which would, under normal circumstances, last no more than five days. Severe but scrupulously fair rationing was adopted. Bligh first landed at Tofua, where they found much-needed supplies. Bligh then headed for Timor in Indonesia, as it turned out, an improbable 47 days sailing away. The little boat sailed through the Fiji Islands, the New Hebrides group, crossed the Coral Sea, passed the northern tip of Australia, and into the Timor Sea. Arriving in Timor, Bligh had safely taken his men across 3,618 nautical miles of open sea. Only one man had been lost, and he was killed by aggressive islanders, not by the journey itself. It was a remarkable feat of seamanship.

From Timor, Bligh returned to England in March 1790 to report the mutiny in full. The following October, the official court-martial enquiry into the loss of the Bounty found no rational reason for the mutiny. Bligh was cleared of all blame; shortly after, the Admiralty promoted him to post-captain. While Bligh was feted by the press for pulling off one of the most remarkable survival stories ever known, the hunt for the mutineers began in earnest. The 23-gun frigate Pandora was tasked with bringing the Bounty fugitives to justice.

The Search

Christian and eight of the mutineers, along with a number of Tahitian men and women, left Tahiti and set sail for a remote island. The mutineers arrived at Pitcairn Island in January 1790, about as remote a place as they could hope for, well-stocked with food and fresh water, and, best of all, it was incorrectly indicated on the admiralty charts. Pitcairn was 1,300 miles from Tahiti and had only been discovered in 1767 by one Robert Pitcairn. There was a very good chance that the mutineers would never be found, even if someone were looking for the island. The mutineers salvaged what useful goods they could and then decided to burn the Bounty. A ship in the bay might give them away, and with no possibility to reach any other island, no homesick mutineer could escape Pitcairn and be discovered by the roaming ships of the Royal Navy.

Mutiny on the Bounty Postage Stamps

Mark Cartwright (CC BY-NC-SA)

In March 1791, the Pandora reached Tahiti. The four men who had not wished to join the mutiny but been obliged to sail off with the Bounty presented themselves to the Pandora's captain. These men had already been identified as innocent by Bligh when he had returned to England. Unfortunately, all four men were imprisoned as if they had been mutineers. The 18 real mutineers who had decided to stay in Tahiti when Christian sailed off to Pitcairn had already been reduced to 16 after two of the men had died in violent arguments. These men were rounded up and put in irons. The Pandora spent the next three months searching other Pacific islands, but there was no trace of Christian's party. Working westwards, the Pandora was then wrecked on a reef off the northern coast of Australia. Amongst the drowned were four Bounty mutineers. Of the rest of the mutineers, six would be found guilty by an Admiralty court in London. Three men were subsequently pardoned; the other three were hanged from the masts of a naval ship on the River Thames.

While these events were taking place, Bligh was back again commanding a ship, once again tasked with bringing breadfruit from Tahiti to the West Indies. This trip was successful, but curiously, when the delicate plants finally reached their intended destination, the slaves there refused to eat the fruit. Bligh then commanded several more ships in war and peacetime, reached the rank of vice-admiral, and eventually ended up on land as Governor of New South Wales. A mutiny of sorts followed Bligh to Australia since he was ousted by a coup in 1808 perpetrated by the Rum Corps, the self-interested monopoly group whose insistence on the illicit trade of rum so blighted the penal colony in its early years. Bligh died in London in 1817 at the age of 64, collapsing in the street while he was, ironically enough, on his way to see his doctor.

Pitcairn

With tiny Pitcairn only amounting to 1.7 square miles (4.5 km²) of land, it did indeed prove to be a difficult place to find, but found it was. John Adams was the last man standing, and he revealed what had happened to his fellow Bounty mutineers when an American sealer arrived in 1808. Captain Folger of the Topaz had only discovered Pitcairn by chance, since on the charts it was still marked 180 miles (290 km) off from where it actually was. Besides Adams, there were 34 people living on the island, all of them women and children. There were no other men. Adams told how each mutineer had built their own house and farmed the fertile land. The island was abundant with coconut trees, wild birds, and fish. There were even breadfruit plants. The group of settlers had done well for the first few years, but Adams reported that one night the Tahitians, treated as servants by the mutineers, had rebelled and killed all the mutineers except himself. In a later version (and there were several), Adams claimed Christian was shot by a Tahitian because of his cruel rule on the island. Fletcher Christian was survived by his son, Thursday October Christian. Eventually, all the Tahitian men died of illness or were killed in revenge by the mutineers' widows, or they killed each other. The ever-changing narrative, like the story of the mutiny, blurred truth with fiction depending on who told the tale. There were even rumours Fletcher had made it back to England, his fare on a sealer paid for by the gold coins of the Bounty's cash box, gold which has never been found amongst the possessions of the Pitcairn islanders, to whom it would have been useless.

Despite still not being marked in its correct position on charts, a pair of ships arrived at Pitcairn in 1814. The two captains were given a tour of the settlement, and they were shown Adams' library, once owned by William Bligh, and with his name written on all the first pages. In a curious case of book imperialism, Fletcher Christian had written his own name under Bligh's in every volume. It seems the destiny of the two men could never be separated. John Adams died in 1829 at the age of 66 or thereabouts, and Pitcairn's main settlement is named after him, Adamstown. The descendants of the mutineers still live on Pitcairn, although today the island has fewer than 50 inhabitants.