The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty (36 page)

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Authors: Caroline Alexander

Tags: #History, #Europe, #Great Britain, #Military, #Naval

BOOK: The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty
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Only one other man had the wits, gumption and capability to hire outside legal counsel. William Muspratt, assistant to the
Bounty
’s cook, had retained the services of Stephen Barney, a lawyer of the Inner Temple and a former town clerk of Portsmouth. How Muspratt of all men had the means to take this step is a question that has long been debated, but it is possible to venture at least one explanation. His brother Joseph, with whom he was particularly close, was employed at this time as a groom at Cam’s Hall, in nearby Fareham, the town where Stephen Barney lived. Cam’s Hall, recently built and reputed to be one of the most elegant estates in the area, belonged to the wealthy Delmé family, and it may be that they had put up the funds for their groom’s brother’s defense. More conventional than Aaron Graham, and with no reputation for Graham’s intellectual flair, Barney nonetheless would prove an able agent for his client.
 
As September 12, the date designated for the start of the trial, loomed closer, Lord Hood was further inconvenienced by the opinion of some of his captains that on reflection the court-martial should be assembled not on a spare three-decker, but on his own ship, the
Duke.
The propriety of holding a court-martial on a ship in ordinary had been questioned, and was believed to be without precedent. With their eyes on the suspect “Counsel from London” who would be in attendance, the concerned captains pointed out that such an irregularity might give later grounds for an appeal of the sentence. Consequently, even though the weather had turned unpleasantly squally, Hood weighed anchor and brought his ship from Spithead closer to the harbor.
 
Two captains who had arrived separately from the fleet completed the muster of court-martial judges. Sir Andrew Snape Douglas of the
Alcide,
age thirty-one, was the nephew of Sir Andrew Snape Hamond. Although he was an officer of enormous promise, the feats for which he would achieve lasting glory still lay ahead. Douglas was destined to live a short life, and to die a gallant, painful death.
 
Captain John Nicholson Inglefield had achieved renown on two occasions. In 1782, having seen hazardous action against the French in the West Indies, Inglefield was returning to England in command of the
Centaur
when a hurricane hit his convoy. In the howling turmoil, a number of ships went down with great loss of life. The
Centaur,
dismasted and thrown on her beam ends, was for a while kept afloat by the exertions of Inglefield and his crew, but on the eighth day she too suddenly went down. In wild high seas Inglefield and eleven other survivors had set out in the ship’s pinnace, with little food and little equipment; at one point, they were forced to use blankets to improvise a sail. After sixteen days of great suffering and the loss of one life, they had arrived in Fayal, in the Azores. Like Bligh, Inglefield had published an account of this sensational adventure, which had attracted much attention—Byron’s great shipwreck scene in
Don Juan
was lifted almost verbatim from Inglefield’s narrative:
 
 
Nine souls more went in her: the long-boat still
Kept above water, with an oar for mast,
Two blankets stitch’d together, answering ill
Instead of sail, were to the oar made fast . . .
 
 
 
It was this great voyage that Sir Joseph Banks’s correspondent James Matra had waggishly referred to on learning the news of Bligh’s voyage in the
Bounty
launch. Until Bligh’s journey, Inglefield’s travails in the
Centaur
’s pinnace had been one of the most highly regarded feats of survival and seamanship.
 
Inglefield’s other great claim to fame was as the cuckolded husband in a notorious divorce case. This too had been published from “an Authentic copy” of the shorthand notes of the trial. Interested readers were thus able to learn that Mrs. Ann Inglefield, after nearly thirteen years of marriage and four children, had “cast lustful eyes upon the negro lad” whom Inglefield had taken into his family, that the lad wore an apron and that Mrs. Inglefield “would not let that apron alone.” Also disclosed was the fact that Inglefield was a jealous husband who had used spies to monitor his wife while he was away at sea, and that persons listening at her locked door had heard such noises “precisely as if . . . two persons, upon the floor, or a chair, or something of that kind, were doing what men and women are apt sometimes to do in the dark.” Somehow, Byron resisted this material, and somehow poor Inglefield weathered this second storm.
 
Now forty-four, Inglefield had just returned from the coast of Africa in the 50-gun
Medusa.
Early in his career, Inglefield had served under both Lord Hood and his brother. He was especially close to the former, naming his son Samuel Hood Inglefield after his friend and mentor. Inglefield was a humane man. Only a year before, he had taken some pains to plead for the lives of seamen who were charged with piracy on his African station, pointing out to the Admiralty that the men had been ill treated and were only trying to obtain their liberty.
 
The sum experience of the twelve captains brought together for the court-martial represented England’s great naval campaigns of the past few decades. Collectively, the men had seen wars and blockades, foul weather and shipwreck; they had been wounded and been prisoners of war. They had commanded 74-gun ships and been responsible for companies of hundreds of men. As sea warriors, they were mindful of the Articles of War, which bound them never to display fear in combat, never to hang back, never to retreat against orders. All were braced to embark upon new campaigns if the developments in France warranted. None had ever been involved in a venture such as the breadfruit voyages of Sir Joseph Banks.
 
Curiously, the least experienced of these men, by a long shot, was the amiable Albemarle Bertie, Peter’s relative by marriage. Although Bertie was now thirty-seven, his naval résumé could be told in a few short lines. Promoted to lieutenant in December 1777, after previous service so obscure it has not been recorded, Bertie was captured by the French eight months later. Released after four months’ captivity, he saw no further service of any kind until 1782, when he was nonetheless made post-captain, at the tender age of twenty-seven. Subsequently he had command of one other Channel ship before being appointed to the
Edgar,
now moored so cozily beside the
Hector.
 
In a delightful crossing of paths, Bertie would later make the acquaintance of that most discerning judge of character, Jane Austen, who declared there was “nothing to like or dislike” about him. And it would have to be allowed that, with his somewhat pampered expression and vague unfocused gaze, he was not a man naturally to command attention. But Captain Bertie had one great asset: he was married to Emma Heywood, the daughter of James Modyford Heywood, the same “Mr. Heywood of Plymouth” spoken of with such deference by Peter’s family. This same Mr. Heywood, in his turn, had the happy fortune to have married the sister of the great Lord Howe and was thus known in royal, government and Admiralty circles as “a relation of Lord Howe.” Indeed, to this familial connection Mr. Heywood owed one of the only two offices he appears to have held in the course of his entire life, six months’ service as a lord of the Admiralty. Only a few summers before, Mr. Heywood had played host to the royal family, who had come out to his beautiful Devon estate at Maristow to admire the grounds. Another of his daughters, Sophia Heywood Musters, had been the toast of London and was rumored to have had an affair with the Prince of Wales.
 
Lord Howe’s relationship to the Heywoods does not appear to have been much known outside their immediate family circle, nor does he appear to have taken much interest in their affairs before the events leading to the court-martial. It was he, indeed, who had been partly responsible for Bligh’s maddening delay in receiving sailing orders for the
Bounty,
when young Peter had been on board. However, his lordship had been kept abreast of Peter’s activities through James Modyford Heywood, who read him letters Peter had written from the
Bounty
—Lord Howe had been pleased to comment on Peter’s fine nautical description of the
Bounty
’s attempt to round the Horn. That he now came to take a personal interest in the court-martial is evident from a discreetly worded letter Howe wrote four days before the trial commenced to his close friend Sir Roger Curtis, one of Peter’s judges, requesting that Curtis stay close to Portsmouth until his “court-Martial business” was over.
 
There is no sure knowing what Aaron Graham saw in Peter’s apparently hopeless circumstances that had made him so confident of winning his client’s freedom. But it may be, with his astute understanding of how life in the navy worked, that Graham had instantly grasped that the salient facts of the issue at hand were not Peter’s guilt or innocence. The sudden “favourable” nature of the evidences; Peter Heywood’s relationship to the most powerful naval figure in the land; his relative’s presence as a judge on his court-martial; Pasley’s two “particular friends” also sitting as judges; the presence of Captains Curtis and Hamond, who owed their careers to Lord Howe—these may have been the facts that most interested Graham.
 
On September 12, when the court-martial was at last convened, Captain Bligh was navigating the Endeavour Strait en route to the West Indies; once again, he had made a successful collection of Tahitian breadfruit. Thus Nessy’s fondest, guilty hope was to be fulfilled: as unorthodox as it might be, the chief witness for the prosecution would not, after all, be present at the mutineers’ court-martial.
 
COURT-MARTIAL
 
At eight A.M. on September 12, the
Duke
hoisted the signal for a court-martial, and then fired a single gun for it to assemble. At half past eight, the ten
Bounty
prisoners were led from their quarters in the
Hector
’s gun room and embarked into one of the her boats, where a guard of marines stood at stiff attention.
 
Conspicuous in their red coats, the marines remained at attention throughout the short journey, which still took the oarsmen over an hour in the choppy, ragged weather. Under a low, gray, dispiriting sky, the prisoners were carried among the great ships at anchor toward the outer harbor, where the
Duke
was moored. Here, they were solemnly taken on board with much formality, and finally led to the captain’s great cabin at the stern of the ship, where their judges were assembled, along with the various counsel and the men to be called upon as evidences, or witnesses.
 
In theory, Lord Hood, as President, acted the role of counsel for the prisoners; once the trial was under way, it was he who was to intervene and caution them as to when they should or should not respond. But the actual running of the court was delegated to a Judge Advocate, Moses Greetham, who had also served the same role on the courts-martial of Bligh and William Purcell and so was more intimately familiar with the
Bounty
affair than most. Greetham opened the trial by reading the “Circumstantial letter,” a preamble laying out the particulars of the case before the court—the history of the
Bounty
’s breadfruit commission, the large cargo of plants “in a very flourishing State,” the seizure of the ship off Tofua by Fletcher Christian, officer of the watch, and the voyage of the
Pandora
to bring the mutineers to justice. It was particularly noted that the men captured on Tahiti were divided into two groups: persons who “came on board the Pandora,” and those who “were taken a few Days afterwards on another Part of the Island.” Listed as the former were “Peter Heywood, George Stewart, Joseph Coleman, and Richard Skinner.” Stewart and Skinner had, of course, died in the
Pandora.
 
The preamble concluded, Greetham swore in the judges. Standing with heads uncovered, left hand on the Act of Parliament that vested authority in the proceedings, right hand on the Bible, each captain solemnly responded to the pronouncement of his name: “I, Andrew Hamond,” “I, George Montagu,” “I, John Bazely” . . . The roll completed, the captains took their seats. Arrayed behind a long table, with the great cabin window at the backs, the twelve men formed an awe-inspiring wall of blue dress coats, gold lace and buttons. The prisoners before them, who had arrived from the East Indies in the nankeen clothing of their own make, were a ragged lot, Peter Heywood excepted. He was in the smart new suit and mourning crepe suggested by Mrs. Bertie. Some—perhaps most—of the men standing humbly before the court were undoubtedly destined to be found guilty, and all Heywood’s associates understood the need for Peter to stand apart from his ill-fated fellows as conspicuously as possible.
 
Only two days earlier, Peter had given notice that he would submit at the court-martial itself a last formal petition to Lord Hood, “By the Advice of my Friends,” that he be tried alone. This issue had been broached earlier, and Hood had deferred the decision to the Admiralty’s legal advisers, who in their wisdom had replied that the matter was entirely up to the court. Hood himself had particularly strong feelings on the subject that did not bode well for any of the accused.
 
“The
Bounty
’s Mutineers being charged with and were guilty of the same atrocious Crime, committed at the same moment,” he had stated on record, well before the court had even convened. It was true, as he acknowledged, that Lieutenant Bligh noted that three and possibly four men (if including Michael Byrn) had been held against their will; yet, as he now observed, “two of these three fled from the
Pandora
’s Officer, and did not surrender themselves until compelled from necessity.” Additionally, as Hood pointed out, each individual prisoner would be able to put questions on his own behalf to each witness giving evidence for the prosecution, and would later be able to call on witnesses when presenting his defense, so that his case would be in no way compromised. After some discussion, Hood’s view prevailed and it was announced to the court that “the whole of the Prisoners must be tried together.”

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