Every attempt has been made to use and quote from firsthand source material wherever available. In such quotations, the original and often erratic spelling, punctuation, grammar and typographical conventions (e.g., liberal use of uppercase initial letters) have been retained. In the case of John Fryer’s ‘Narrative’ alone, punctuation has on occasion been added for more straightforward reading. Similarly, a few abbreviations common in the era (‘wr.’ for ‘weather’, ‘larbd.’ for ‘larboard’) but now unfamiliar have been spelled out so as not to cause unnecessary stumbling over sense.
Personal names are particularly variable, and I have attempted to use the form the individual in question used where this can be ascertained, rather than to rely on Bounty story conventions. In the case of the ten mutineers brought to court-martial, this is not difficult to establish, as each of the ten defendants left a deposition signed with his signature: thus ‘Burkett’, not ‘Burkitt’; ‘Byrn’, not ‘Byrne’; although the alternate forms occur frequently in the language of second parties. In other cases, problematic names were established by correspondence, wills or similar personal documentation. Midshipman John Hallett’s father signed his correspondence ‘Hallett’ – not, as Bligh and others wrote, ‘Hallet’ – and so forth. There is strong evidence to suggest that Matthew Quintal, one of the mutineers, regarded himself as Matthew ‘Quintrell’, but here deference is made to the spelling adopted by his present-day descendants. Geographical places are referred to by their names at the time, with the modern equivalent in parentheses on first mention: Coupang (Kupang), Endeavour Strait (Torres Strait).
A nautical day began and ended at noon, with the noon sighting, not at midnight as in civil time. Thus the mutiny on the Bounty occurred on the morning of 28 April 1789, in both sea and civil time; some four hours later, however, it was April 29 by nautical reckoning. There is occasional awkwardness when the two systems collide, as when a returning ship comes into port, and a running commentary begun at sea resumes on land. No attempt has been made to convert sea to civil time; dates of events recorded at sea are given as stated in the ship’s log.
All mileage figures for distances at sea are given in nautical miles. A nautical mile consisted at the time of 6,116 feet, or one degree of latitude; a statute mile consists of 5,280 feet. All temperatures cited in the ship’s log are in degrees Fahrenheit.
One pound sterling (£1) comprised twenty shillings (20s.); a guinea equalled £1 plus IS. The valuation of currency of this time can be gauged by certain standard-of-living indicators. Fletcher Christian’s mother expected to live comfortably on 40 guineas a year. A post-captain of a first-rate ship received £28 os. od. (28 pounds, o shillings, o pence) a month in pay; a lieutenant, £7 os. od. (7 pounds, o shillings, o pence); an able seaman, £1 4s. od. (1 pound, 4 shillings, o pence) – less deductions!
Spithead, winter 1787
His small vessel pitching in the squally winter sea, a young British naval lieutenant waited restlessly to embark upon the most important and daunting voyage of his still young but highly promising career. William Bligh, aged thirty-three, had been selected by His Majesty’s government to collect breadfruit plants from the South Pacific island of Tahiti and to transport them to the plantations of the West Indies. Like most of the Pacific, Tahiti – Otaheite – was little known; in all the centuries of maritime travel, fewer than a dozen European ships had anchored in her waters. Bligh himself had been on one of these early voyages, ten years previously, when he had sailed under the command of the great Captain Cook. Now he was to lead his own expedition in a single small vessel called Bounty.
With his ship mustered and provisioned for eighteen months, Bligh had anxiously been awaiting the Admiralty’s final orders, which would allow him to sail, since his arrival at Spithead in early November. A journey of some sixteen thousand miles lay ahead, including a passage around Cape Horn, some of the most tempestuous sailing in the world. Any further delay, Bligh knew, would ensure that he approached the Horn at the height of its worst weather. By the time the orders arrived in late November, the weather at Spithead itself had also deteriorated to the extent that Bligh had been able to advance no further than the Isle of Wight, from where he wrote a frustrated letter to his uncle-in-law and mentor, Duncan Campbell.
‘If there is any punishment that ought to be inflicted on a set of Men for neglect I am sure it ought on the Admiralty,’ he wrote irascibly on 10 December 1787, ‘for my three weeks detention at this place during a fine fair wind which carried all outward bound ships dear of the channel but me, who wanted it most.’
Nearly two weeks later, he had retreated back to Spithead, still riding out bad weather.
‘It is impossible to say what may be the result,’ Bligh wrote to Campbell, his anxiety mounting. ‘I shall endeavor to get round [the Horn]; but with heavy Gales, should it be accompanied with sleet & snow my people will not be able to stand it…Indeed I feel my voyage a very arduous one, and have only to hope in return that whatever the event may be my poor little Family may be provided for. I have this comfort,’ he continued with some complacency, ‘that my health is good and I know of nothing that can scarce happen but I have some resource for – My little Ship is in the best of order and my Men &