The Bounty: The True Story of the Mutiny on the Bounty (63 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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At some point after the
Bounty
voyage, Morrison had returned to his native Stornoway and entertained his relatives with stories of his life in Otaheite, central to which seems to have been the considerable status he had enjoyed as the
taio
of a local chief. Long after specific personalities had been forgotten, Morrison’s family retained the tradition that a forebear of long ago had been king of a South Pacific island.
Bounty
voyage, Morrison had returned to his native Stornoway and entertained his relatives with stories of his life in Otaheite, central to which seems to have been the considerable status he had enjoyed as the
taio
of a local chief. Long after specific personalities had been forgotten, Morrison’s family retained the tradition that a forebear of long ago had been king of a South Pacific island.
HOME IS THE SAILOR
One person who did not comment on the Pitcairn Island miracle, although he was very much alive, was Rear Admiral William Bligh, who was far from England when the news of the
Topaz
broke. And when the report of the
Tagus
and
Briton
reached England in 1815, he was still recovering from his wife’s death and approaching the end of his own life. In the course of the intervening years he had both achieved great distinctions and weathered additional squalls; his life’s voyage, as an old shipmate would reflect, had been a turbulent one.
Topaz
broke. And when the report of the
Tagus
and
Briton
reached England in 1815, he was still recovering from his wife’s death and approaching the end of his own life. In the course of the intervening years he had both achieved great distinctions and weathered additional squalls; his life’s voyage, as an old shipmate would reflect, had been a turbulent one.
Following the return of the
Providence,
Bligh had remained on half pay for over a year and a half. In April 1795, he was ordered to the North Sea fleet under the command of Admiral Adam Duncan, first as captain of the 24-gun armed transport
Calcutta,
and subsequently in the more prestigious role as captain of the 54-gun
Director.
And it was as captain of the
Director
that Bligh endured what is sometimes referred to as his “second mutiny.”
Providence,
Bligh had remained on half pay for over a year and a half. In April 1795, he was ordered to the North Sea fleet under the command of Admiral Adam Duncan, first as captain of the 24-gun armed transport
Calcutta,
and subsequently in the more prestigious role as captain of the 54-gun
Director.
And it was as captain of the
Director
that Bligh endured what is sometimes referred to as his “second mutiny.”
The mutiny at the Nore anchorage in the spring of 1797 was one of the landmark events in the British navy, and Bligh’s minor role in these tumultuous events is instructive. The Nore mutiny was not so much a mutiny as a labor strike, inspired by a similar strike at Spithead that had ended only days earlier. The Spithead mutiny had addressed such longstanding grievances as the fact that seamen’s wages had not been raised since 1653, that their food was deficient and that their sick and wounded were not properly cared for. By refusing to weigh anchor until their complaints had been met, the seamen had paralyzed the Channel fleet. Lord Howe, drawing on the enormous credibility and respect he enjoyed with the seamen, had adroitly negotiated with the mutineers, conceding most of their demands and guaranteeing their pardon.
This success at Spithead immediately led to a larger and more serious mutiny at the Nore, which eventually spread to the North Sea fleet, in which Bligh was stationed. This time, the mutineers’ demands descended to what might be termed second-tier grievances—complaints over the distribution of prizes, shore leave, the harsh terms of some of the Articles of War. Most tellingly, the mutineers also demanded that certain unpopular officers be removed from their ships. And to illustrate their seriousness, they peremptorily sent ashore a stream of disfavored commanding officers, lieutenants, midshipmen and masters in varying degrees of popular disgrace: several captains who had served as judges on the
Bounty
mutineers’ court-martial bore the brunt of these events. The surgeon of the
Montagu,
under the command of Captain John Knight, was tarred and feathered; John Colpoys’s first lieutenant barely escaped being hanged, and Colpoys himself was for twenty-four hours in fear of his own life; several unpopular midshipmen were ducked. William Bligh was not among these “offenders.”
Bounty
mutineers’ court-martial bore the brunt of these events. The surgeon of the
Montagu,
under the command of Captain John Knight, was tarred and feathered; John Colpoys’s first lieutenant barely escaped being hanged, and Colpoys himself was for twenty-four hours in fear of his own life; several unpopular midshipmen were ducked. William Bligh was not among these “offenders.”
It was also in this crisis that Aaron Graham was called upon to exercise officially those abilities he had earlier revealed only discreetly, and in yet another of his many roles he now served the Admiralty as a spy. In boardinghouses and inns throughout the seamier parts of Sheerness, agent Graham conducted interviews with sailors, bawdy women, dockyard workers, innkeepers, even the mothers of sailors, seeking to learn which way the crisis was blowing, who stood where and where the ringleaders were. (“I assume I can spend money freely,” Graham had written to his boss, the Duke of Portland.)
The Nore mutiny had been under way for a week before Bligh was relieved of command of the
Director;
during this time the crisis escalated to the point where the Admiralty had begun to plan for the use of force. On surrendering his command, Bligh wrote to inform the Admiralty of the turn of events in a letter conspicuous for its startling lack of rancor. The trouble arose from the interference of the crew of the
Sandwich,
Bligh reported, adding of his own men that “hitherto never did a ship’s company behave better or did ever a ship bear more marks of content and correctness.”
Director;
during this time the crisis escalated to the point where the Admiralty had begun to plan for the use of force. On surrendering his command, Bligh wrote to inform the Admiralty of the turn of events in a letter conspicuous for its startling lack of rancor. The trouble arose from the interference of the crew of the
Sandwich,
Bligh reported, adding of his own men that “hitherto never did a ship’s company behave better or did ever a ship bear more marks of content and correctness.”
The mutiny was eventually quelled by a strategic use of limited force and the threat of much greater. This time the chief mutineers were hanged, flogged or transported. Bligh had been one of a delegation of captains commissioned to go among the seamen and urge them to return to duty—and his inclusion in this group would suggest some faith in his relations with the sailors. Of the few concessions awarded this time around, Lord Howe agreed to the removal of those officers whom the seamen most resented. A list of more than a hundred names was duly submitted; William Bligh’s was not among them.
After the quelling of the Nore mutiny, Bligh regained command of the
Director
and joined Admiral Duncan and the North Sea fleet in a blockade off the Dutch coast. In the ensuing Battle of Camperdown, in October 1797, the
Director
played an important and gallant role in Duncan’s victory, directing a spirited broadside at close quarters (twenty yards) against the Dutch flagship
Vrijheid.
Despite her bold action, the
Director
escaped with only seven men wounded—for which Bligh’s officers came forth to congratulate him. Along with other flag officers and captains, Bligh received the gold medal issued to commemorate this important victory.
Director
and joined Admiral Duncan and the North Sea fleet in a blockade off the Dutch coast. In the ensuing Battle of Camperdown, in October 1797, the
Director
played an important and gallant role in Duncan’s victory, directing a spirited broadside at close quarters (twenty yards) against the Dutch flagship
Vrijheid.
Despite her bold action, the
Director
escaped with only seven men wounded—for which Bligh’s officers came forth to congratulate him. Along with other flag officers and captains, Bligh received the gold medal issued to commemorate this important victory.
Following this engagement, Bligh requested leave of absence from the Admiralty, pleading the need for medical attention.
“I want much to have advice on account of an alarming numbness which has seized my left arm from a rheumatic affliction,” he wrote—perhaps a relic of the long, cold, wet days and nights in the open boat. Between campaigns, Bligh was engaged in the more peaceable activity of hydrographic survey. While studiously engaged in making a reconnaissance of Helford Harbour in Cornwall for the Admiralty, he had been mistaken for a French spy and taken under arrest to be held at the local vicarage.
“In an act of duty, he had been roughly treated; and he resented it” was the vicar’s diplomatic account. But, he added, after Bligh’s anger had subsided, he had joined “in commending the loyal zeal of my parishioners.” Over the ensuing peace-making dinner of woodcock and “a variety of wines,” Bligh delighted the erudite vicar with his conversation, and the two sat talking until two in the morning. “But a moment’s conversation with Captain Bligh discovered all the gentleman” was the vicar’s summary.
In 1801, Bligh participated in the most important naval engagement of his career, when in command of the 54-gun
Glatton
he joined Lord Nelson at the battle of Copenhagen. Egged on by Napoleon, the Russians, Danes and Swedes had conspired to block English trade in the Baltic. It was in this campaign that Nelson, the second-in-command, had famously ignored what he regarded as his admiral’s pusillanimous orders. (“I really do not see the signal,” Nelson had reported of the admiral’s signal to “discontinue the action,” holding the telescope to his blind eye.) His insubordination resulted in a sound victory, and for his role as what Nelson termed his “second,” Bligh was summoned on board by his lordship for personal commendation.
Glatton
he joined Lord Nelson at the battle of Copenhagen. Egged on by Napoleon, the Russians, Danes and Swedes had conspired to block English trade in the Baltic. It was in this campaign that Nelson, the second-in-command, had famously ignored what he regarded as his admiral’s pusillanimous orders. (“I really do not see the signal,” Nelson had reported of the admiral’s signal to “discontinue the action,” holding the telescope to his blind eye.) His insubordination resulted in a sound victory, and for his role as what Nelson termed his “second,” Bligh was summoned on board by his lordship for personal commendation.
Four years later, Bligh was the recipient of another of Sir Joseph Banks’s fated tokens of kindness. Banks had been busy behind the scenes on Bligh’s behalf on a number of occasions over the years, supporting his application to join the Royal Society (membership in which enabled Bligh to put a coveted “F.R.S.” after his name), and seeking a stable land-based commission for the aging captain, whose health had “by the Voyage from the
Bounty
to Timor been utterly ruined.” After a number of rebuffs, Banks was at last able to come to Bligh with a solid if unlikely offer: the governorship of New South Wales.
Bounty
to Timor been utterly ruined.” After a number of rebuffs, Banks was at last able to come to Bligh with a solid if unlikely offer: the governorship of New South Wales.
“I apprehend that you are about 55 years old,” Banks wrote with the warmth that characterized what was by now an old and comfortable friendship (in fact, Bligh was fifty-one). “[I]f so, you have by the tables an expectation of 15 years’ life,” he continued, with admirable if disconcerting exactitude, “and in a climate like that, which is the best that I know, a still better expectation.” The job would bring in £2,000 a year, of which he could save half, plus a pension, which at compound interest of 5 percent Banks calculated would produce “more than £30,000.” These were arguments that spoke convincingly to Bligh.
Eventually, despite misgivings about taking up a position outside the arena of his professional expertise and so far from home, Bligh accepted the offer. It would mean another long voyage to the Pacific, and an exile of sorts. Above all, it meant separation from his wife. Although he was to be accompanied by his daughter Mary and her husband, Mrs. Bligh would not be joining him. As Bligh told Banks, “her undertaking the Voyage would be her Death owing to her extreme horror of the Sea, the Sound of a gun, or Thunder.”
The governorship of New South Wales was to be the final debacle in Bligh’s eventful career. The story of the state of the penal colony at the time he assumed command and of the organized thuggery of the Rum Corps that characterized its “government” is a subject too vast to do justice here. Suffice it to say that in 1808, Governor Bligh, inexperienced in and perhaps temperamentally unfit for the backroom strategizing and gamesmanship of political leadership, was ousted from office in a well-orchestrated coup. As one local correspondent reported to Banks, “[T]he plans against Bligh have been extensively laid and artfully conducted.” Dragged unceremoniously from Government House, Bligh was to pass some two years on a ship offshore before relief came from England, during which time he refused to recognize the usurpers, considering himself to be, quite correctly, the government in exile: William Bligh was not one to desert his post or duty.
Eventually, a long and exhaustive court-martial of the usurpers was held in England, which resulted in their disgrace and ban from all future service. As a central witness, Bligh was involved once again in defending his honor, which he did with expected uncompromising energy and fearlessness. Inadvertently, however, these proceedings of 1811 revealed how corrosive had been the effects of the
Bounty
’s aftermath, nearly twenty years ago.
Bounty
’s aftermath, nearly twenty years ago.
“How often has it happened, in the course of your service in the navy, that you have found it necessary to bring officers or others to courts martial for mutiny or other similar offences?” Bligh was asked as the second question of his cross-examination by Lieutenant Colonel George Johnston, the defendant.
“I think about twice, I have brought persons to a court martial,” Bligh responded, “twice or thrice, I suppose, in the course of forty years of constant and active service.”
“How many courts martial have you obtained against individuals for other offences?”
“Really, gentlemen, it is hard for me to answer such a question,” Bligh replied impatiently; he could see where this was going. “[T]he world knows perfectly well that in 1787 there was a mutiny on board the ship Bounty: I presume that is what they allude to; I don’t know any other mutiny that I have had any thing to do with, except that dreadful mutiny at the Nore, in which, of course, I was not particularly concerned.”
“Have you ever been brought to a court martial, and for what?” Johnston continued later.
“I was brought to a court martial for the loss of the Bounty: and my lieutenant, who, I understand, is now turned out of the service, brought me to a trial when I commanded His Majesty’s ship the
Warrior,
a seventy-four.”
Warrior,
a seventy-four.”
“And for what?” Johnston continued; he had done his homework.
“I cannot say how the charge was worded; but the amount of it, I recollect, was, that I had sent for him to do his duty when he had a lame foot, that I sent for him and he refused to come, because he had a lame foot, which he had embarked on board the ship with, but made a pretence of it when I sent for him on duty, and said that it was an act of tyranny on my part to send for him, or the word might be, oppression.”
The case that Johnston had touched upon, Bligh’s second court-martial, had occurred in 1805. The causes were indeed as Bligh outlined; the injured lieutenant, a man named Frazier, had in fact been allowed to take his watch sitting down, but while doing so had begun an argument with the
Warrior
’s steward that had become so heated it had reached Bligh in his cabin. Coming out in one of his passions, Bligh had, as the affronted lieutenant reported, grossly insulted and ill-treated him “by calling me a rascal, scoundrel and shaking his fist in my face.” The ensuing court-martial revealed a calculated awareness of the reputation Bligh had gained as a result of the
Bounty
business. The charges preferred against him from this squall were for behaving toward his officer in a “tyrannical and oppressive and unofficerlike manner.” The stream of witnesses summoned by both sides yielded the revelation that Captain Bligh was often hasty in his language, which was variously regarded by different men as offensive and “irritating,” or of no consequence. It was also revealed that Captain Bligh habitually used “a great deal of action with his hands, without having any particular meaning in it.” The general consensus of the officers was that “they were sorry Lieutenant Frazier should be so ill-advised as to bring his Captain to a Court-martial upon grounds which appeared so frivolous.”
Warrior
’s steward that had become so heated it had reached Bligh in his cabin. Coming out in one of his passions, Bligh had, as the affronted lieutenant reported, grossly insulted and ill-treated him “by calling me a rascal, scoundrel and shaking his fist in my face.” The ensuing court-martial revealed a calculated awareness of the reputation Bligh had gained as a result of the
Bounty
business. The charges preferred against him from this squall were for behaving toward his officer in a “tyrannical and oppressive and unofficerlike manner.” The stream of witnesses summoned by both sides yielded the revelation that Captain Bligh was often hasty in his language, which was variously regarded by different men as offensive and “irritating,” or of no consequence. It was also revealed that Captain Bligh habitually used “a great deal of action with his hands, without having any particular meaning in it.” The general consensus of the officers was that “they were sorry Lieutenant Frazier should be so ill-advised as to bring his Captain to a Court-martial upon grounds which appeared so frivolous.”
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