Читать книгу The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism (Vol. 1-4) - Frederick Whymper - Страница 26

Table of Contents

Bligh’s Bread-fruit Expedition—Voyage of the Bounty—Otaheite—The Happy Islanders—First Appearance of a Mutinous Spirit—The Cutter Stolen and Recovered—The Bounty sails with 1,000 Trees—The Mutiny—Bligh Overpowered and Bound—Abandoned with Eighteen Others—Their Resources—Attacked by Natives—A Boat Voyage of 3,618 miles—Violent Gales—Miserable Condition of the Boat’s Crew—Bread by the Ounce—Rum by the Tea-spoonful—Noddies and Boobies—“Who shall have this?”—Off the Barrier Reef—A Haven of Rest—Oyster and Palm-top Stews—Another Thousand Miles of Ocean—Arrival at Coupang—Hospitality of the Residents—Ghastly Looks of the Party—Death of Five of the Number—The Pandora Dispatched to Catch the Mutineers—Fourteen in Irons—Pandora’sBox—The Wreck—Great Loss of Life—Sentences of the Court Martial—The Last of the Mutineers—Pitcairn Island—A Model Settlement—Another Example: The greatest Mutiny of History—40,000 Disaffected Men at one point—Causes—Legitimate Action of the Men at First—Apathy of Government—Serious Organisation—The Spithead Fleet Ordered to Sea—Refusal of the Crews—Concessions Made, and the First Mutiny Quelled—Second Outbreak—Lord Howe’s Tact—The Great Mutiny of the Nore—Richard Parker—A Vile Character but Man of Talent—Wins the Men to his Side—Officers Flogged and Ducked—Gallant Duncan’s Address—Accessions to the Mutineers—Parker practically Lord High Admiral—His Extravagant Behaviour—Alarm in London—The Movement Dies out by Degrees—Parker’s Cause Lost—His Execution—Mutinies at Other Stations—Prompt Action of Lords St. Vincent and Macartney.

The Royal Navy has ever been the glory of our country, but there are spots even on the bright sun. The service has been presented hitherto almost entirely under its best aspects. Example after example of heroic bravery, unmurmuring endurance, and splendid discipline, have been cited. Nor can we err in painting it couleur de rose, for its gallant exploits have won it undying fame. But in the service at one time—thank God those times are hardly possible now—mutiny and desertion on a large scale were eventualities to be considered and dreaded; they were at least remote possibilities. In a few instances they became terrible facts. In the merchant service we still hear of painful examples: every reader will remember the case of the Lennie mutineers, who murdered the captain and mates in the Bay of Biscay, with the object of selling the ship in Greece, and were defeated by the brave steward, who steered for the coast of France, and was eventually successful in communicating with the French authorities. The example about to be related is a matter of historical fact, from which the naval service in particular may still draw most important lessons.

In the year 1787, being seventeen years after Captain Cook’s memorable first voyage, a number of merchants and planters resident in London memorialised his Majesty George III., that the introduction of the bread-fruit tree from the southern Pacific Islands would be of great benefit to the West Indies, and the king complied with their request. A small vessel, the Bounty, was prepared, the arrangements for disposing the plants being made by Sir Joseph Banks, long the distinguished President of the Royal Society, and one of the most eminent men of science of the day. Banks had been with Cook among these very islands; indeed, it is stated that in his zeal for acquiring knowledge, he had undergone the process of tattooing himself. The ship was put under the command of Lieutenant Bligh, with officers and crew numbering in all forty-four souls, to whom were added a practical botanist and assistant.

The Bounty sailed from Spithead on December 23rd, 1787 and soon encountered very severe weather, which obliged them to refit at Teneriffe. Terrible gales were experienced near Cape Horn, “storms of wind, with hail and sleet, which made it necessary to keep a constant fire night and day, and one of the watch always attended to dry the people’s wet clothes. This stormy weather continued for nine days; the ship required pumping every hour; the decks became so leaky that the commander was obliged to allot the great cabin to those who had wet berths to hang their hammocks in.”125 It was at last determined, after vainly struggling for thirty days to make headway, to bear away for the Cape of Good Hope. The helm was accordingly put a-weather, to the great joy and satisfaction of all on board.

THE CREW OF H.M.S. “BOUNTY” LANDING AT OTAHEITE.

They arrived at the Cape late in May, and stopped there for thirty-eight days, refitting, replenishing provisions, and refreshing the worn-out crew. On October 26th they anchored in Matavai Bay, Otaheite, and the natives immediately came out to the ship in great numbers. Tinah, the chief of the district, on hearing of the arrival of the Bounty, sent a small pig and a young plantain tree, as a token of friendship, and the ship was liberally supplied with provisions. Handsome presents were made to Tinah, and he was told that they had been sent to him, on account of the kindness of the people to Captain Cook during his visit. “Will you not, Tinah,” said Bligh, “send something to King George in return?” “Yes,” he replied, “I will send him anything I have,” and then enumerated the different articles in his power, among which he mentioned the bread-fruit. This was exactly what Bligh wished, and he was told that the bread-fruit trees were what King George would greatly like, and the chief promised that a large number should be placed on board.

The importance of the bread-fruit to these people cannot be over-stated. That old navigator, Dampier, had well described it a hundred years before. “The bread-fruit, as we call it, grows on a large tree, as big and high as our largest apple-trees; it hath a spreading head, full of branches and dark leaves. The fruit grows on the boughs like apples; it is as big as a penny loaf when wheat is at five shillings the bushel; it is of a round shape, and hath a thick, tough rind; when the fruit is ripe, it is yellow and soft, and the taste is sweet and pleasant. The natives of Guam use it for bread. They gather it, when full grown, while it is green and hard; then they bake it in an oven, which scorcheth the rind and makes it black, but they scrape off the outside black crust, and there remains a tender, thin crust; and the inside is soft, tender, and white.” The fruit lasts in season eight months. During Lord Anson’s two months’ stay at Tinian, no ship’s bread was consumed, the officers and men all preferring the bread-fruit. Byron speaks of these South Sea Islands, where labour is the merest play work, the earth affording nearly spontaneously all that the natives need, as

“The happy shores without a law,

* * * * * * *

Where all partake the earth without dispute,

And bread itself is gathered as a fruit;

Where none contest the fields, the woods, the streams,

The gold-less age, where gold disturbs no dreams.”

The Otaheitans of those days were a most harmless, amiable, and unsophisticated people. One day the gudgeon of the cutter’s rudder was missing, and was believed to have been stolen. “I thought,” says Bligh, “it would have a good effect to punish the boat-keeper in their presence, and accordingly I ordered him a dozen lashes. All who attended the punishment interceded very earnestly to get it mitigated; the women showed great sympathy.” The intercourse between the crew and natives was very pleasant. The Otaheitans showed the most perfect ease of manner, with “a candour and sincerity about them that is quite refreshing.” When they offered refreshments, for instance, if they were not accepted, they did not press them; they had not the least idea of that ceremonious kind of refusal which expects a second invitation. “Having one day,” says Bligh, “exposed myself too much in the sun, I was taken ill, on which all the powerful people, both men and women, collected round me, offering their assistance.” On an occasion when the Bounty had nearly gone ashore in a tremendous gale of wind, and on another when she did go aground, after all was right again, these kind-hearted people came in crowds to congratulate the captain on her escape; many of them shed tears while the danger seemed imminent. In the evenings, the whole beach was like a parade, crowded with several hundred men, women, and children, all good-humoured, and affectionate to one another; their sports and games were continued till near dark, when they peaceably returned to their homes. They were particularly cleanly, bathing every morning, and often twice a day.

It is sad to turn from this pleasant picture to find the spirit of desertion and mutiny appearing among the crew. There can be no doubt that the allurements of the island, its charming climate and abundant productions, the friendliness of the natives, and ease of living, were the main causes. Bligh made one fatal mistake in his long stay of over five months, during which the crew had all opportunities of leave ashore. Every man of them had his tayo, or friend. From the moment he set his foot ashore he found himself in the midst of ease and indolence, all living in a state of luxury, without submitting to anything approaching real labour. Such enticements were too much for a common sailor, for must he not contrast the islander’s happy lot with his own hardships on board?

One morning the small cutter was missing, with three of the crew. They had taken with them eight stands of arms and ammunition. The master was dispatched with one of the chiefs in their pursuit, but before they had got any great distance, they met the boat with five of the natives, who were bringing her back to the ship. “For this service they were handsomely rewarded. The chiefs promised to use every possible means to detect and bring back the deserters, which, in a few days, some of the islanders had so far accomplished as to seize and bind them, but let them loose again on a promise that they would return to their ship, which they did not exactly fulfil, but gave themselves up soon after, on a search being made for them.” A few days after this it was found that the cable by which the ship rode had been cut, close to the water’s edge, so that it held by only a strand. Bligh considered this the act of one of his own people, who wished the ship to go ashore, so that they might remain at Otaheite. It may, however, have chafed in the natural course of affairs.

THE MUTINEERS SEIZING CAPTAIN BLIGH.

And now the Bounty, having taken on board over a thousand of the bread-fruit plants, besides other shrubs and fruits, set sail, falling in soon after with many canoes, whose owners and passengers sold them hogs, fowls, and yams, in quantities. Some of the sailing canoes would carry ninety persons. Bligh was congratulating himself on his ship being in good condition, his plants in perfect order, and all his men and officers in good health. On leaving deck on the evening of April 27th he had given directions as to the course and watches. Just before sunrise on the 28th, while he was yet asleep, Mr. Christian, officer of the watch, with three of the men, came into his cabin, and seizing him, tied his hands behind his back, threatening him with instant death if he spoke or made the least noise. “I called, however,” says Bligh, “as loud as I could, in hopes of assistance; but they had already secured the officers who were not of their party, by placing sentinels at their doors. There were three men at my cabin-door besides the four within; Christian had only a cutlass in his hand, the others had muskets and bayonets. I was hauled out of bed, and forced on deck in my shirt, suffering great pain from the tightness with which they had tied my hands.” The master and master’s mate, the gunner, and the gardener, were confined below, and the forecastle hatch was guarded by sentinels. The boatswain was ordered to hoist the launch out, with a threat that he had better do it instantly, and two of the midshipmen and others were ordered into it. Bligh was simply told, “Hold your tongue, sir, or you are dead this instant!” when he remonstrated. “I continued,” says he, “my endeavours to turn the tide of affairs, when Christian changed the cutlass which he had in his hand for a bayonet that was brought to him, and holding me with a strong grip by the cord that tied my hands, he threatened, with many oaths, to kill me immediately, if I would not be quiet; the villains round me had their pieces cocked and bayonets fixed.” The boatswain and seamen who were to be turned adrift with Bligh were allowed to collect twine, canvas, lines, sails, cordage, and an eight-and-twenty gallon cask of water; the clerk secured one hundred and fifty pounds of bread, with a small quantity of rum and wine, also a quadrant and compass, but he was forbidden to touch the maps, observations, or any of the surveys or drawings. He did, however, secure the journals and captain’s commission. The mutineers having forced those of the seamen whom they meant to get rid of into the boat, Christian directed a dram to be served to each of his own crew. Isaac Martin, one of the guard over Bligh, had an inclination to serve him, and fed him with some fruit, his lips being quite parched. This kindness was observed, and Martin was ordered away. The same man, with three others, desired to go with the captain, but this was refused. They begged him to remember that they had no hand in the transaction. “I asked for arms,” says Bligh, “but they laughed at me, and said I was well acquainted with the people among whom I was going, and therefore did not want them; four cutlasses, however, were thrown into the boat after we were veered astern.

BLIGH CAST ADRIFT.

“The officers and men being in the boat, they only waited for me, of which the master-at-arms informed Christian, who then said, ‘Come, Captain Bligh, your officers and men are now in the boat, and you must go with them; if you attempt to make the least resistance, you will instantly be put to death;’ and without further ceremony, with a tribe of armed ruffians about me, I was forced over the side, when they untied my hands.” A few pieces of pork were thrown to them, and after undergoing a great deal of ridicule, and having been kept for some time to make sport for these unfeeling wretches, they were at length cast adrift in the open sea. Bligh heard shouts of “Huzza for Otaheite!” among the mutineers for some considerable time after they had parted from the vessel.

In the boat, well weighted down to the water’s edge, were nineteen persons, including the commander, master, acting-surgeon, botanist, gunner, boatswain, carpenter, and two midshipmen. On the ship were twenty-five persons, mostly able seamen, but three midshipmen were among the number, two of whom had no choice in the matter, being detained against their will.

Lieutenant Bligh, although a good seaman, was a tyrannical man, and had made himself especially odious on board by reason of his severity, and especially in regard to the issuing of provisions. He had had many disputes with Christian in particular, when his language was of the coarsest order. Still, the desire to remain among the Otaheitans, or, at all events, among these enticing islands, seems to have been the main cause of the mutiny.

It was shown afterwards that Christian had only the night before determined to make his escape on a kind of small raft; that he had informed four of his companions, and that they had supplied him with part of a roast pig, some nails, beads, and other trading articles, and that he abandoned the idea because, when he came on deck to his watch at four a.m., he found an opportunity which he had not expected. He saw Mr. Hayward, the mate of his watch, fall asleep, and the other midshipmen did not put in an appearance at all. He suddenly conceived the idea of the plot, which he disclosed to seven of the men, three of whom had “tasted the cat,” and were unfavourable to Bligh. They went to the armourer, and secured the keys of his chest, under the pretence of wanting a musket to fire at a shark, then alongside. Christian then proceeded to secure Lieutenant Bligh, the master, gunner, and botanist. He stated that he had been much annoyed at the frequent abusive and insulting language of his commanding officer. Waking out of a short half-hour’s disturbed sleep, to take the command of the deck—finding the mates of the watch asleep—the opportunity tempting, and the ship completely in his power, with a momentary impulse he darted down the fore-hatchway, got possession of the arm-chest, and made the hazardous experiment of arming such of the men as he deemed he could trust. It is said that he intended to send away his captain in a small, wretched boat, worm-eaten and decayed, but the remonstrances of a few of the better-hearted induced him to substitute the cutter.

And now to follow the fortunes of Lieutenant Bligh and his companions. Their first consideration was to examine their resources. There were sixteen pieces of pork, weighing two pounds each, the bread and water as before mentioned, six quarts of rum, and six bottles of wine. Being near the island of Tofoa, they resolved to seek a supply of bread-fruit and water, so as to preserve their other stock, and they did obtain a small quantity of the former, but little water. The natives seeing their defenceless condition meditated their destruction, and speedily crowded the beach, knocking stones together, the preparatory signal for an attack. With some difficulty the seamen succeeded in getting their things together, and got all the men, except John Norton, one of the quartermasters, into the boat, the surf running high. The poor man was literally stoned to death within their sight. They pushed out to sea in all haste, and were followed by volleys of big stones, some of the canoes pursuing them. Their only expedient left to gain time was to throw overboard some of their clothing, which, fortunately, induced the natives to stop and pick them up. Night coming on, the canoes returned to the shore.

The nearest place where they could expect relief was Timor, a distance of full 1,200 leagues, and the men agreed to be put on an allowance, which on calculation was found not to exceed one ounce of bread per diem, and a gill of water. Recommending them, therefore, in the most solemn manner, not to depart from their promises, “we bore away,” says Bligh, “across a sea where the navigation is but little known, in a small boat, twenty-three feet long from stem to stern, deeply laden with eighteen men. … It was about eight at night on the 2nd of May when we bore away under a reefed lug-foresail; and having divided the people into watches, and got the boat into a little order, we returned thanks to God for our miraculous preservation, and in full confidence of His gracious support, I found my mind more at ease than it had been for some time past.” Next morning the sun rose fiery and red, a sure indication of a gale, and by eight o’clock it blew a violent storm, the waves running so high that their sail was becalmed when between the seas. They lightened the boat by throwing overboard all superfluous articles, and removing the tools, put the bread, on which their very existence depended, in the chest. Miserably wet and cold as were all, Bligh administered a tea-spoonful of rum to each at dinner time. The sea still rose, and the fatigue of baling became very great. Next morning at daylight the men’s limbs were benumbed, and another spoonful of spirit was administered. Whatever might be said of Bligh’s previous conduct, there is no doubt that at this juncture he exerted himself wonderfully and very judiciously to save the lives of all. Their dinner this day consisted of five small cocoa-nuts. On the night of the 4th the gale abated, and they examined the bread, much of which was found to be damaged and rotten, but it was still preserved for use. On the 6th they hooked a fish, “but,” says the commander, “we were miserably disappointed by its being lost in trying to get it into the boat.” They were terribly cramped for want of room on board, although Bligh did for the best by putting them watch and watch, so that half of them at a time could lie at the bottom of the boat. On the 7th they passed close to some rocky isles, from which two large sailing canoes came out and pursued hotly, but gave over the chase in the afternoon. This day heavy rain fell, when everybody set to work to catch some, with such success that they not merely quenched their thirst, but increased their stock to thirty-five gallons. As a corresponding disadvantage they got wet through. On the 8th the allowance issued was an ounce and a half of pork, a tea-spoonful of rum, half a pint of cocoa-nut milk, and an ounce of bread. Bligh constructed a pair of scales of two cocoa-nut shells, using pistol-balls for weights. The next nine days brought bad weather, and much rain, the sea breaking over the boat so much that two men were kept constantly baling, and it was necessary to keep the boat before the waves to prevent her filling. When day broke it showed a miserable set of beings, full of wants, aches, and pains, and nothing to relieve them. They found some comfort by wringing their clothes in sea-water, by which means they found a certain limited amount of warmth. But though all were shivering with cold and wet, the commander was obliged to tell them that the rum ration—one tea-spoonful—must for the present be discontinued, as it was running low.

“During the whole of the afternoon of the 21st,” says Bligh, “we were so covered with rain and salt water that we could scarcely see. We suffered extreme cold, and every one dreaded the approach of night. Sleep, though we longed for it, afforded no comfort; for my own part, I almost lived without it. * * * The misery we suffered this night exceeded the preceding. The sea flew over us with great force, and kept us baling with horror and anxiety. At dawn of day I found every one in a most distressed condition, and I began to fear that another such night would put an end to the lives of several, who seemed no longer able to support their sufferings. I served an allowance of two tea-spoonfuls of rum; after drinking which, and having wrung our clothes, and taken our breakfast of bread and water, we became a little refreshed.” On the 24th, for the first time in fifteen days, they experienced the warmth of the sun, and dried their now threadbare garments.

On the 25th, at mid-day, some noddies flew so near the boat that one was caught by hand. This bird, about the size of a small pigeon, was divided into eighteen portions, and allotted by the method known as “Who shall have this?” in which one person, who turns his back to the caterer, is asked the question, as each piece is indicated. This system gives every one the chance of securing the best share. Bligh used to speak of the amusement it gave the poor half-starved people when the beak and claws fell to his lot. That and the following day two boobies, which are about as large as ducks, were also caught. The sun came out so powerfully that several of the people were seized with faintness. But the capture of two more boobies revived their spirits, and as from the birds, and other signs, Mr. Bligh had no doubt they were near land, the feelings of all became more animated. On the morning of the 28th the “barrier reef” of what was then known as the eastern coast of New Holland, now Australia, appeared, with the surf and breakers outside, and smooth water within. The difficulty was to find a passage; but at last a fine opening was discovered, and through this the boat passed rapidly with a strong stream, and came immediately into smooth water. Their past hardships seemed all at once forgotten. The coast appeared, and in the evening they landed on the sandy point of an island, where they soon found that the rocks were covered with oysters, and that plenty of fresh water was attainable. By help of a small sun-glass a fire was made, and soon a stew of oysters, pork, and bread was concocted, which gladdened their hearts, each receiving a full pint. The 29th of May being the anniversary of the restoration of Charles II., the spot was not inappropriately named Restoration Island.

Bligh soon noted the alteration for the better in the looks of his men, which proved the value of oysters, stewed, as they sometimes were, with fresh green palm-tops. Strange to say, that the mutinous spirit, which had been satisfactorily absent before, broke out in one or two of the men, and Bligh had, in one instance, to seize a cutlass and order the man to defend himself. The threatened outbreak ended quietly.

But although the worst of their voyage was over, their troubles in other ways were serious. While among the islands off the coast of Australia several of them were seriously affected with weakness, dizziness, and violent pains in their bowels. Infinitesimal quantities of wine were administered, to their great benefit. A party was sent out on one of the islands to catch birds, and they returned with a dozen noddies; these and a few clams were all they obtained. On the 3rd of June they left Cape York, and once more launched their little boat on the open ocean. On the 5th a booby was caught by the hand, the blood of which was divided among three of the men who were weakest, and the bird kept for next day’s dinner. The following day the sea ran high, and kept breaking over the boat. Mr. Ledward, the surgeon, and Lebogue, an old hardy sailor, appeared to be breaking up fast, and no other assistance could be given them than a tea-spoonful or two of wine. On the morning of the 10th there was a visible alteration for the worse in many of the people. Their countenances were ghastly and hollow, their limbs swollen, and all extremely debilitated; some seeming to have lost their reason. But next day Bligh was able to announce that they had passed the meridian of Timor, and the following morning land was sighted with expressions of universal joy and satisfaction. Forty-one days had they been on the ocean in their miserable boat, and by the log they had run 3,618 nautical miles. On the 14th they arrived at Coupang Bay, where they were received with all kinds of hospitality. The party on landing presented the appearance of spectres: their bodies skin and bones, and covered with sores; their clothing in rags. But the strain had been too much for several of them. The botanist died at Coupang, three of the men at Batavia, and one on the passage home. The doctor was left behind and not afterwards heard of. Bligh arrived in England on March 14th, and received much sympathy. He was immediately promoted, and afterwards successfully carried the bread-fruit tree to the West Indies. Meantime the Government naturally proposed to bring the mutineers to trial, whatever it might cost.

The Pandora, a frigate of twenty-four guns, and one hundred and sixty men, was selected for the service, and was placed under the command of Captain Edward Edwards, with orders to proceed to Otaheite, and if necessary the other islands. The voyage was destined to end in shipwreck and disaster, but the captain succeeded in securing a part of the mutineers, of whom ten were brought to England, and four drowned on the wreck.

The Pandora reached Matavia Bay on the 23rd of March, 1791. The armourer and two of the midshipmen, Mr. Heywood and Mr. Stewart, came off immediately, and showed their willingness to afford information. Four others soon after appeared, and from them the captain learned that the rest of the Bounty’s people had built a schooner, and sailed the day before for another part of the island. They were pursued, and the schooner secured, but the mutineers had fled to the mountains. A day or two elapsed, when they ventured down, and when within hearing were ordered to lay down their arms, which they did, and were put in irons. Captain Edwards put them into a round-house, built on the after part of the quarter-deck, in order to isolate them from the crew. According to the statement of one of the prisoners, the midshipmen were kept ironed by the legs, separate from the men, in a kind of round-house, aptly termed “Pandora’s Box,” which was entered by a scuttle in the roof, about eighteen inches square. “The prisoners’ wives visited the ship daily, and brought their children, who were permitted to be carried to their unhappy fathers. To see the poor captives in irons,” says the only narrative published of the Pandora’s visit, “weeping over their tender offspring, was too moving a scene for any feeling heart. Their wives brought them ample supplies of every delicacy that the country afforded while we lay there, and behaved with the greatest fidelity and affection to them.”126 Stewart, the midshipman, had espoused the daughter of an old chief, and they had lived together in the greatest harmony; a beautiful little girl had been the fruit of the union. When Stewart was confined in irons, Peggy, for so her husband had named her, flew with her infant in a canoe to the arms of her husband. The interview was so painful that Stewart begged she might not be admitted on board again. Forbidden to see him, she sank into the greatest dejection, and seemed to have lost all relish for food and existence; she pined away and died two months afterwards.127

MAP OF THE ISLANDS OF THE PACIFIC.

All the mutineers that were left on the island having been secured, the ship proceeded to other islands in search of those who had gone away in the Bounty. It must be mentioned, however, that two of the men had perished by violent deaths. They had made friends with a chief, and one of them, Churchill, was his tayo, or sworn friend. The chief died suddenly without issue, and Churchill, according to the custom of the country, succeeded to his property and dignity. The other, Thomson, murdered Churchill, probably to acquire his possessions, and was in his turn stoned to death by the natives. Captain Edwards learned that after Bligh had been set adrift, Christian had thrown overboard the greater part of the bread-fruit plants, and divided the property of those they had abandoned. They at first went to an island named Toobouai, where they intended to form a settlement, but the opposition of the natives, and their own quarrels, determined them to revisit Otaheite. There the leading natives were very curious to know what had become of Bligh and the rest, and the mutineers invented a story to the effect that they had unexpectedly fallen in with Captain Cook at an island he had just discovered, and that Lieutenant Bligh was stopping with him, and had appointed Mr. Christian commander of the Bounty; and, further, he was now come for additional supplies for them. This story imposed upon the simple-minded natives, and in the course of a very few days the Bounty received on board thirty-eight goats, 312 hogs, eight dozen fowls, a bull and a cow, and large quantities of fruit. They also took with them a number of natives, male and female, intending to form a settlement at Toobouai. Skirmishes with the natives, generally brought on by their own violent conduct or robberies, and eternal bickerings among themselves, delayed the progress of their fort, and it was subsequently abandoned, sixteen of the men electing to stop at Otaheite, and the remaining nine leaving finally in the Bounty, Christian having been heard frequently to say that his object was to find some uninhabited island, in which there was no harbour, that he would run the ship ashore, and make use of her materials to form a settlement. This was all that Captain Edwards could learn, and after a fruitless search of three months he abandoned further inquiry, and proceeded on his homeward voyage.

Off the east coast of New Holland, the Pandora ran on a reef, and was speedily a wreck. In an hour and a half after she struck, there were eight and a half feet of water in her hold, and in spite of continuous pumping and baling, it became evident that she was a doomed vessel. With all the efforts made to save the crew, thirty-one of the ship’s company and four mutineers were lost with the vessel. Very little notice, indeed, seems to have been taken of the latter by the captain, who was afterwards accused of considerable inhumanity. “Before the final catastrophe,” says the surgeon of the vessel, “three of the Bounty’s people, Coleman, Norman, and M’Intosh, were now let out of irons, and sent to work at the pumps. The others offered their assistance, and begged to be allowed a chance of saving their lives; instead of which, two additional sentinels were placed over them, with orders to shoot any who should attempt to get rid of their fetters. Seeing no prospect of escape, they betook themselves to prayer, and prepared to meet their fate, every one expecting that the ship would soon go to pieces, her rudder and part of the stern-post being already beaten away.” When the ship was actually sinking, it is stated that no notice was taken of the prisoners, although Captain Edwards was entreated by young Heywood, the midshipman, to have mercy on them, when he passed over their prison to make his own escape, the ship then lying on her broadside with the larboard bow completely under water. Fortunately, the master-at-arms, either by accident, or probably design, when slipping from the roof of “Pandora’s Box” into the sea, let the keys unlocking the hand-cuffs and irons fall through the scuttle, and thus enabled them to commence their own liberation, in which they were assisted by one brave seaman, William Moulter, who said he would set them free or go to the bottom with them. He wrenched away, with great difficulty, the bars of the prison. Immediately after the ship went down, leaving nothing visible but the top-mast cross-trees.

More than half an hour elapsed before the survivors were all picked up by the boats. Amongst the drowned were Mr. Stewart, the midshipman, and three others of the Bounty’s people, the whole of whom perished with the manacles on their hands. Thirty-one of the ship’s company were lost. The four boat-loads which escaped had scarcely any provisions on board, the allowance being two wine-glasses of water to each man, and a very small quantity of bread, calculated for sixteen days. Their voyage of 1,000 miles on the open ocean, and the sufferings endured, were similar to those experienced by Bligh’s party, but not so severe. After staying at Coupang for about three weeks, they left on a Dutch East Indiaman, which conveyed them to Samarang, and subsequently Batavia, whence they proceeded to Europe.

After an exhaustive court-martial had been held on the ten prisoners brought home by Captain Edwards, three of the seamen were condemned and executed; Mr. Heywood, the midshipman, the boatswain’s-mate, and the steward were sentenced to death, but afterwards pardoned; four others were tried and acquitted. It will be remembered that four others were drowned at the wreck.

Twenty years had rolled away, and the mutiny of the Bounty was almost forgotten, when Captain Folger, of the American ship Topaz, reported to Sir Sydney Smith, at Valparaiso, that he had discovered the last of the survivors on Pitcairn Island. This fact was transmitted to the Admiralty, and received on May 14th, 1809, but the troublous times prevented any immediate investigation. In 1814, H.M.S. Briton, commanded by Sir Thomas Staines, and the Tagus, Captain Pipon, were cruising in the Pacific, when they fell in with the little known island of Pitcairn. He discovered not merely that it was inhabited, but afterwards, to his great astonishment, that every individual on the island spoke very good English. The little village was composed of neat huts, embowered in luxuriant plantations. “Presently they observed a few natives coming down a steep descent with their canoes on their shoulders, and in a few minutes perceived one of these little vessels dashing through a heavy surf, and paddling off towards the ships; but their astonishment was extreme when, on coming alongside, they were hailed in the English language with ‘Won’t you heave us a rope now?’

“The first young man that sprang with extraordinary alacrity up the side and stood before them on the deck, said, in reply to the question, ‘Who are you?’ that his name was Thursday October Christian, son of the late Fletcher Christian, by an Otaheitan mother; that he was the first born on the island, and that he was so called because he was brought into the world on a Thursday in October. Singularly strange as all this was to Sir Thomas Staines and Captain Pipon, this youth soon satisfied them that he was none other than the person he represented himself to be, and that he was fully acquainted with the whole history of the Bounty; and, in short, the island before them was the retreat of the mutineers of that ship. Young Christian was, at this time, about twenty-four years of age, a fine tall youth, full six feet high, with dark, almost black hair, and a countenance open and extremely interesting. As he wore no clothes, except a piece of cloth round his loins, and a straw hat, ornamented with black cock’s feathers, his fine figure, and well-shaped muscular limbs, were displayed to great advantage, and attracted general admiration. * * * He told them that he was married to a woman much older than himself, one of those that had accompanied his father from Otaheite. His companion was a fine, handsome youth of seventeen or eighteen years of age, of the name of George Young, the son of Young, the midshipman.” In the cabin, when invited to refreshments, one of them astonished the captains by asking the blessing with much appearance of devotion, “For what we are going to receive, the Lord make us truly thankful.” The only surviving Englishman of the crew was John Adams, and when the captains landed through the surf, with no worse result than a good wetting, the old man came down to meet them. Both he and his aged wife were at first considerably alarmed at seeing the king’s uniform, but was reassured when he was told that they had no intention of disturbing him. Adams said that he had no great share in the mutiny, that he was sick at the time, and was afterwards compelled to take a musket. He even expressed his willingness to go to England, but this was strongly opposed by his daughter. “All the women burst into tears, and the young men stood motionless and absorbed in grief; but on their being assured that he should on no account be molested, it is impossible,” says Pipon, “to describe the universal joy that these poor people manifested.”

H.M.S. “BRITON,” AT PITCAIRN ISLAND.

When Christian had arrived at the island, he found no good anchorage, so he ran the Bounty into a small creek against the cliff, in order to get out of her such articles as might be of use. Having stripped her, he set fire to the hull, so that afterwards she should not be seen by passing vessels, and his retreat discovered. It is pretty clear that the misguided young man was never happy after the rash and mutinous step he had taken, and he became sullen, morose, and tyrannical to his companions. He was at length shot by an Otaheitan, and in a short time only two of the mutineers were left alive.

PITCAIRN ISLAND.

The colony at this time comprised forty-six persons, mostly grown-up young people, all of prepossessing appearance. John Adams had made up for any share he may have had in the revolt, by instructing them in religious and moral principles. The girls were modest and bashful, with bright eyes, beautifully white teeth, and every indication of health. They carried baskets of fruit over such roads and down such precipices as were scarcely passable by any creatures except goats, and over which we could scarcely scramble with the help of our hands. When Captain Beechey, in his well-known voyage of discovery on the Blossom, called there in 1825, he found Adams, then in his sixty-fifth year, dressed in a sailor’s shirt and trousers, and with all a sailor’s manners, doffing his hat and smoothing down his bald forehead whenever he was addressed by the officers of the Blossom. Many circumstances connected with the subsequent history of the happy little colony cannot be detailed here. Suffice it to say that it still thrives, and is one of the most model settlements of the whole world, although descended from a stock so bad. Of the nine who landed on Pitcairn’s Island only two died a natural death. Of the original officers and crew of the Bounty more than half perished in various untimely ways, the whole burden of guilt resting on Christian and his fellow-conspirators.

The mutiny just described sinks into insignificance before that which is about to be recounted, the greatest mutiny of English history—that of the Nore. At that one point no less than 40,000 men were concerned, while the disaffection spread to many other stations, some of them far abroad. There can be little doubt that prior to 1797, the year of the event, our sailors had laboured under many grievances, while the navy was full of “pressed” men, a portion of whom were sure to retain a thorough dislike to the service, although so many fought and died bravely for their country. Some of the grievances which the navy suffered were probably the result of careless and negligent legislation, rather than of deliberate injustice, but they were none the less galling on that account. The pay of the sailor had remained unchanged from the reign of Charles II., although the prices of the necessaries and common luxuries of life had greatly risen. His pension had also remained at a stationary rate; that of the soldier had been augmented. On the score of provisions he was worse off than an ordinary pauper. He was in the hands of the purser, whose usual title at that time indicates his unpopularity: he was termed “Nipcheese.” The provisions served were of the worst quality; fourteen instead of sixteen ounces went to the navy pound. The purser of those days was taken from an inferior class of men, and often obtained his position by influence, rather than merit. He generally retired on a competency after a life of deliberate dishonesty towards the defenders of his country, who, had they received everything to which they were entitled, would not have been too well treated, and, as it was, were cheated and robbed, without scruple and without limit. The reader will recall the many naval novels, in which poor Jack’s daily allowance of grog was curtailed by the purveyor’s thumb being put in the pannikin: this was the least of the evils he suffered. In those war times the discipline of the service was specially rigid and severe, and most of this was doubtless necessary. Men were not readily obtained in sufficient numbers; consequently, when in harbour, leave ashore was very constantly refused, for fear of desertions. These and a variety of other grievances, real or fancied, nearly upset the equilibrium of our entire navy. It is not too much to say that not merely England’s naval supremacy was for a time in the greatest jeopardy through the disaffection of the men, but that our national existence, almost—and most certainly our existence as a first-class power—was alarmingly threatened, the cause being nothing more nor less than a very general spirit of mutiny. To do the sailors justice, they sought at first to obtain fair play by all legitimate means in their power. It must be noted, also, that a large number of our best officers knew that there was very general discontent. Furthermore, it was well known on shore that numerous secret societies opposed to monarchy, and incited by the example of the French Revolution, had been established. Here, again, the Government had made a fatal mistake. Members of these societies had been convicted in numbers, and sent to sea as a punishment. These men almost naturally became ringleaders and partakers in the mutiny, which would, however, have occurred sooner or later, under any circumstances. In the case of the mutiny at Spithead, about to be recounted, the sailors exhibited an organisation and an amount of information which might have been expected from “sea-lawyers” rather than ordinary Jack Tars; while in the more serious rebellion of the Nore, the co-operation of other agents was established beyond doubt.

The first step taken by the men was perfectly legitimate, and had it been met in a proper spirit by the authorities, this history need never have been penned. At the end of February, 1797, the crews of four line-of-battle ships at Spithead addressed separate petitions to Lord Howe, Commander-in-Chief of the Channel Fleet, asking his kind interposition with the Admiralty, to obtain from them a relief of their grievances, so that they might at length be put on a similar footing to the army and militia, in respect both of their pay and of the provision they might be enabled to make for their wives and families. Lord Howe, being then in bad health, communicated the subject of their petitions to Lord Bridport and Sir Peter Parker, the port admiral, who, with a want of foresight and disregard of their country’s interest which cannot be excused, returned answer that “the petitions were the work of some evil-disposed person or persons,” and took no trouble to investigate the allegations contained in them. Lord Howe, therefore, did nothing; and the seamen, finding their applications for redress not only disregarded, but treated with contempt, determined to compel the authorities to give them that relief which they had before submissively asked.

In about six weeks they organised their plans with such secrecy that it was not till everything was arranged on a working basis that the first admiral, Lord Bridport, gained any knowledge of the conspiracy going on around him. He communicated his suspicions to the Lords of the Admiralty; and they, thinking a little active service would prove the best cure for what they simply regarded as a momentary agitation, sent down orders for the Channel Fleet to put to sea. The orders arrived at Portsmouth on April 15th, and in obedience to them Lord Bridport signalled to the fleet to make the necessary preparations. As might almost have been expected, it was the signal, likewise, for the outbreak of the mutiny. Not a sailor bestirred himself; not a rope was bent; but, as if by common consent, the crews of every vessel in the squadron manned the yards and rigging, and gave three cheers. They then proceeded to take the command of each ship from the officers, and appointed delegates from each vessel to conduct negotiations with the authorities of the Admiralty. No violence nor force was used. The first-lieutenant of the London, ordered by Admiral Colpoys, one of the best-hated officers of the service, shot one of the mutineers, but his death was not avenged. They again forwarded their petition to the Admiralty, and its closing sentences showed their temperance, and argued strongly in favour of their cause. They desired “to convince the nation at large that they knew where to cease to ask, as well as where to begin; and that they asked nothing but what was moderate, and might be granted without detriment to the nation or injury to the service.” The Admiralty authorities, seeing that with the great power in their hands they had acted peaceably, only abstaining from work, yielded all the concessions asked; and a full pardon was granted in the king’s name to the fleet in general, and to the ringleaders in particular. In a word, the mutiny ended for the time being.

THE MUTINY AT PORTSMOUTH.

It was resumed on May 7th. As Parliament had delayed in passing the appropriations for the increase of pay and pensions, the crews rose en masse and disarmed all their officers, although still abstaining from actual violence. Lord Howe, always a popular officer with the men, and their especial idol after his great victory of June 1st, 1794, was sent down by the Cabinet with full power to ratify all the concessions which had been made, and to do his best to convince the men that the Government had no desire of evading them. He completely mollified the men, and even succeeded in exacting an expression of regret and contrition for their outbreak. He assured them that their every grievance should be considered, and a free pardon, as before, given to all concerned. The men again returned to duty. The fleet at Plymouth, which had followed that of Portsmouth into the mutiny, did the same; and thus, in a month from the first outbreak, as far as these two great fleets were concerned, all disaffection, dissatisfaction, and discontent had passed away, through the tact and judicious behaviour of Lord Howe. There can be no doubt that the tyranny of many of the officers had a vast deal to do with the outbreak. In the list of officers whom the men considered obnoxious, and that Lord Howe agreed should be removed, there were over one hundred in one fleet of sixteen ships.

Strange to say, the very same week in which the men of the Portsmouth fleet returned to their duty, acknowledging all their grievances to be removed, the fleet at the Nore arose in a violent state of mutiny, displaying very different attributes to those shown by the former. Forty thousand men, who had fought many a battle for king and country, and in steadfast reliance upon whose bravery the people rested every night in tranquillity, confident in their patriotism and loyalty, became irritated by ungrateful neglect on the one part, and by seditious advisers on the other, and turned the guns which they had so often fired in defence of the English flag against their own countrymen and their own homes.

Richard Parker, the chief ringleader at the Nore, was a thoroughly bad man in every respect, and one utterly unworthy the title of a British sailor, of which, indeed, he had been more than once formally deprived. He was the son of an Exeter tradesman in a fair way of business, had received a good education, and was possessed of decided abilities. He was a remarkably bold and resolute man, or he would never have acquired the hold he had for a time over so many brave sailors. He was unmistakably

“The leader of the band he had undone,

Who, born for better things, had madly set

His life upon a cast,”

and until overtaken by justice, he ruled with absolute sway.

Parker had, eleven years previously, entered the navy as a midshipman on board the Culloden, from which vessel he had been discharged for gross misconduct. A little later, he obtained, however, a similar appointment on the Leander frigate, and was again dismissed. We next find him passing through several ships in rotation, from which he was invariably dismissed, no captain allowing him to remain when his true character disclosed itself. It did not usually take long. At length he became mate of the Resistance, on which vessel, shortly after joining, he was brought to a court-martial and “broke”—i.e., his commission taken away—and declared incapable of serving again as an officer. After serving a short time as a common sailor on board the Hebe, he was either invalided or discharged, for we find him residing in Scotland; and as he could no more keep out of trouble ashore than he could afloat, he was soon in Edinburgh gaol for debt. But men were wanted for the navy, and he was eventually sent up to the fleet as one of the quota of men required from Perth district. He received the parochial bounty of £30 allowed to each man. He joined the Sandwich, the flag-ship of Admiral Buckner, Commander-in-Chief at the Nore. The best authorities believe him to have been employed as an emissary of the revolutionists, as, although he had only just been discharged from gaol, he had abundance of money. His good address and general abilities, combined with the liberality and conviviality he displayed, speedily obtained him an influence among his messmates, which he used to the worst purpose. He had scarcely joined the fleet when, aided by disaffected parties ashore, he began his machinations, and speedily seduced the majority of the seamen from their duty. In some respects the men followed the example of those at Portsmouth, selecting delegates and forwarding petitions, but in other respects their conduct was disgracefully different. When mastery of the officers had been effected, Parker became, in effect, Lord High Admiral, and committed any number of excesses, even firing on those ships which had not followed the movement. Officers were flogged, and on board the flag-ship, the vessel on which Parker remained, many were half-drowned, as the following account, derived from an unimpeachable source,128 will show. Their hammocks were fastened to their backs, with an 18-pounder bar-shot as a weight; their hands were tied together, likewise their feet. They were then made fast to a tackle suspended from a yard-arm, and hauled up almost to the block; at the word of command they were dropped suddenly in the sea, where they were allowed to remain a minute. They were again hoisted up, and the process repeated, until about every sign of life had fled. The unfortunate victims were then hoisted up by the heels; this was considerately done to get rid of the water from their stomachs. They were then put to bed in their wet hammocks.

ADMIRAL DUNCAN ADDRESSING HIS CREW.

On June 6th the mutinous fleet was joined by the Agamemnon, Leopard, Ardent, and Iris men-of-war, and the Ranger sloop, which vessels basely deserted from a squadron under Admiral Duncan, sent to blockade the Texel. Shortly after, a number of vessels of the line arrived at the mouth of the Thames, and still further augmented the ranks of the mutineers. By this means eleven vessels were added to the list. Duncan, gallant old salt as he was, when he found himself deserted by the greater part of his fleet, called his own ship’s crew (the Venerable, 74) together, and addressed them in the following speech:—

“My lads—I once more call you together with a sorrowful heart, from what I have lately seen of the dissatisfaction of the fleets: I call it dissatisfaction, for the crews have no grievances. To be deserted by my fleet, in the face of an enemy, is a disgrace which, I believe, never before happened to a British admiral, nor could I have supposed it possible. My greatest comfort under God is, that I have been supported by the officers, seamen, and marines of this ship; for which, with a heart overflowing with gratitude, I request you to accept my sincere thanks. I flatter myself much good may result from your example, by bringing these deluded people to a sense of their duty, which they owe, not only to their king and country, but to themselves.

“The British Navy has ever been the support of that liberty which has been handed down to us by our ancestors, and which I think we shall maintain to the latest posterity; and that can only be done by unanimity and obedience. This ship’s company, and others who have distinguished themselves by their loyalty and good order, deserve to be, and doubtless will be, the favourites of a grateful country. They will also have, from their inward feelings, a comfort which will be lasting, and not like the bloating and false confidence of those who have swerved from their duty.

“It has often been my pride with you to look into the Texel, and see a foe which dreaded coming out to meet us; my pride is now humbled indeed! my feelings are not easily expressed! Our cup has overflowed and made us wanton. The all-wise Providence has given us this check as a warning, and I hope we shall improve by it. On Him then let us trust, where our only security may be found. I find there are many good men amongst us; for my own part, I have had full confidence of all in this ship, and once more beg to express my approbation of your conduct.

“May God, who has thus far conducted you, continue so to do; and may the British Navy, the glory and support of our country, be restored to its wonted splendour, and be not only the bulwark of Britain, but the terror of the world.

“But this can only be effected by a strict adherence to our duty and obedience; and let us pray that the Almighty God may keep us in the right way of thinking.

“God bless you all!”

At an address so unassuming and patriotic, the whole ship’s crew were dissolved in tears, and one and all declared, with every expression of warmth they could use, their determination to stay by the admiral in life or death. Their example was followed by all the other ships left in the squadron, and the brave and excellent old admiral, notwithstanding the defection of so many of his ships, repaired to his station, off the coast of Holland, to watch the movements of the Dutch fleet. Here he employed a device to hide the sparseness of his fleet by employing one of his frigates, comparatively close in shore, to make signals constantly to himself and to the other vessels in the offing, many of them imaginary, and give the enemy the impression that a large squadron was outside. He had resolved, however, not to refuse battle, if the Dutch fleet should have the courage to come out and offer it.

But to return to the mutineers. The accession of the new vessels so elated Parker that he gave way to the wildest fits of extravagance. He talked of taking the whole fleet to sea, and selling it to our enemies. He tried to stop the navigation of the Thames, declaring that he would force his way up to London, and bombard the city if the Government did not accede to his terms. The alarm at these proceedings became general in the metropolis, and the funds fell lower than ever known before or since in the financial history of our country. An order was given to take up the buoys marking the channel of the Thames, while the forts were heavily armed and garrisoned, so that should Parker attempt his vainglorious threat, the fleet might be destroyed. The Government now acted with more promptness and decision than they had previously displayed. Lord Spencer, Lord Arden, and Admiral Young hastened to Sheerness, and held a board, at which Parker and the other delegates attended, but the conduct of the mutineers was so audacious that these Lords of the Admiralty returned to town without the slightest success. The principal article of conflict on the part of the seamen’s delegates was the unequal distribution of prize-money, for the omission of which matter in the recent demands, they greatly upbraided their fellow-seamen at Portsmouth. Bills were immediately passed in Parliament inflicting the heaviest penalties on those who aided or encouraged the mutineers in any way, or even held intercourse with them, which speedily had the effect of damping their ardour, and by the end of the first week in June the fire which Parker had fanned into a serious conflagration, began to die out. The fleets at Portsmouth and Plymouth disowned all fellowship with them, and the example of one or two ships, such as the Clyde, which from the first had resisted Parker’s influence, commenced to be of effect. The ringleader himself, seeing that his influence was waning, and knowing the perilous position in which he had placed himself, tried to re-open negotiations with the Admiralty, but his demands were too ridiculous to be considered; whereupon he hung Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas in effigy at the yard-arm of the Sandwich. It is a curious fact, showing that the crews were simply egged on by the ringleaders, and that there was plenty of loyalty at bottom, that on June 4th, the king’s birthday, the whole fleet insisted on firing a royal salute, displaying the colours as usual, and hauling down the red flag during the ceremony. Mr. Parker, however, insisted that it should fly on the flag-ship.

On June 10th two of the ships, the Leopard and Repulse, hauled down the flag of mutiny, and sailed into the Thames; their example was soon followed by others. Parker and his cause were lost.

On the evening of June 14th this miserable affair was at an end. The crew of the Sandwich, Parker’s own ship, brought that vessel under the guns of the fort at Sheerness, and handed him as a prisoner to the authorities. Sixteen days afterwards he was hanged. His wife presented a petition to the queen in favour of her wretched husband, and is stated to have offered a thousand guineas if his life could be spared. But he, of all men who were ever hanged, deserved his fate, for he had placed the very kingdom itself in peril. Other executions took place, but very few, considering the heinousness of the crime committed. Still, the Government knew that the men had been in the larger proportion of cases more sinned against than sinning; and when later, Duncan’s victory over the Dutch fleet provided an occasion, an amnesty was published, and many who had been confined in prison, some of them under sentence of death, were released. En passant, it may be remarked that three marines were shot at Plymouth on July 6th of the same year, for endeavouring to excite a mutiny in the corps, while another was sentenced to receive a thousand lashes.

The mutinous spirit evinced at Portsmouth, Plymouth, and the Nore spread, even to foreign stations. Had it not been for Duncan’s manly and sensible appeal to his crew, where there were some disaffected spirits, our naval supremacy might have been seriously compromised as regards the Dutch. On board the Mediterranean Fleet, then lying off the coast of Portugal, the mutineers had for a time their own way. The admiral commanding, Lord St. Vincent, was, however, hardly the man to be daunted by any number of evil-disposed fellows. He had only just before added to his laurels by another victory over the enemies of his country. The ringleaders on board the flagship St. George were immediately seized, brought to trial, and hanged the next day, although it was Sunday, a most unusual time for an execution. Still further to increase the force of the example, he departed from the usual custom of drawing men from different ships to assist at the execution, and ordered that none but the crew of the St. George itself should touch a rope. The brave old admiral, by his energy and promptitude, soon quieted every symptom of disaffection.

LORD ST. VINCENT.

The last of the mutinies broke out at the Cape of Good Hope, on October 9th of the same year, when a band of mutineers seized the flagship of Admiral Pringle, and appointed delegates in the same way as their shipmates at home, showing plainly how extended was the discontent in the service, and how complete was the organisation of the insurgents. Lord Macartney, who commanded at the Cape, was, however, master of the occasion. Of the admiral the less said the better, as he showed the white feather, and was completely non-plussed. Macartney manned the batteries with all the troops available, and ordered red-hot shot to be prepared. He then informed the fleet that if the red flag was not at once withdrawn, and a white one hoisted, he would open fire and blow up every ship the crew of which held out. The admiral at the same time informed the delegates that all the concessions they required had already been granted to the fleets at home, and of course to them. In a quarter of an hour the red flag was hauled down, and a free pardon extended to the bulk of the offenders. The ringleaders were, however, hanged, and a few others flogged. The mutinous spirit never re-asserted itself.

Since that time, thank God! no British fleet has mutinied; and as at the present day the sailors of the Royal Navy are better fed, paid, and cared for than they ever were before, there is no fear of any recurrence of disaffection. One need only look at the Jack Tar of the service, and compare him with the appearance of almost any sailor of any merchant marine, to be convinced that his grievances to-day are of the lightest order. The wrongs experienced by sailors in a part of the merchant service have been recently remedied in part; but it is satisfactory to be able to add that there is every probability of their condition being greatly improved in the future. On this point, however, we shall have more to say in a later chapter.