Читать книгу Men Against the Sea – Book Set - James Norman Hall - Страница 20

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Throughout the day the Indians had been coming to Matavai in great numbers, and many canoes were drawn up on the beach, belonging to those who had arrived from remote parts of the island. When I climbed One Tree Hill, late in the afternoon, I found it thronged with people keeping a lookout for the vessel. The excitement was intense. It was such a scene as must have presented itself twenty-four years earlier when Captain Wallis arrived in the Dolphin, the first European vessel to visit the island. The crowd was so great that I had difficulty in finding Stewart. Presently I spied him with some of the Matavai people, standing near the ancient flowering tree which gave the hill its name. He made his way to me at once.

“I’ve been expecting you all day, Byam,” he said. “What can you tell me of the ship? You must have seen her as you were coming round the coast.”

“Yes,” I replied. “She’s an English frigate, I should say.”

“I thought as much,” he replied, sadly. “I suppose I should be glad. In one sense, I am, of course. But fate has played a sorry trick upon us. You must feel that, too?”

I did feel it, profoundly. The first sight of the vessel had given me a moment of keen happiness. I knew that it meant home; but after all these months Tahiti was home as well, and I realized that I was bound to the island by ties no less strong than those which drew me from it. Either to go or to stay seemed a cruel choice; but we well knew that there would be no choice. Our duty was plain. We should have to go aboard as soon as the ship came to anchor and report the mutiny.

We had little doubt that the vessel had been sent out in search of the Bounty. The Indians, of course, had no inkling of this. They believed that the awaited ship probably belonged to Captain Cook, coming for additional supplies of young breadfruit trees, and that Captain Bligh, his supposed son, would be with him. While Stewart and I were talking, a messenger from Teina was sent in search of us. He wished to see us at his house. We sent back word that we would come shortly.

“What of our wives and children?” Stewart asked gloomily. “It may seem strange to you, Byam, but the truth is that I have never before realized that we should have to go. England seems so far away, as though it were on another planet.”

“I know,” I replied. “My feeling has been the same.”

He shook his head mournfully. “Let’s not talk of it. You are certain the ship is English?”

“All but certain.”

“In that case, I’m sorry for poor Morrison. He left in the schooner four days ago. They may be well on their way westward by this time.”

Morrison’s plans, he told me, had not changed. All the mutineers remaining on Tahiti, with the exception of Skinner, had decided to go with him in the Resolution. They had agreed among themselves to go ashore at some island to the westward where there would be little chance of their ever being discovered. Morrison, Norman, McIntosh, Byrne, and Muspratt would then try to make their way to Batavia, on the island of Java, where they hoped to sell the schooner and take passage in some ship bound to Europe.

“It’s a desperate venture for all of them,” Stewart continued. “There are Ellison, Hillbrandt, Burkitt, Millward, and Sumner to be left at some island yet to be decided upon. God knows what their fate will be! They have firearms and think they will be able to defend themselves until they can establish friendly relations with the people. But what can five men do against hundreds of savages? We know what the islanders to the westward are like; our experiences at Namuka taught us that. They are as good as dead, in my opinion.”

“They will have a fighting chance at least,” I said. “In any event it will be better than being taken home to be hung.”

“Yes, they were wise to go, no doubt. What chance do you think Morrison has of reaching Batavia?”

We discussed the matter at length. Morrison was an excellent navigator, and five men were ample to work the little schooner. They were provided with a compass and one of Captain Bligh’s charts of the passage through Endeavour Straits; but looked at in the most hopeful light, it seemed doubtful indeed that the Resolution would ever reach Batavia. Stewart told me that the schooner had first gone to the district of Papara, on the southern side of Tahiti, to pick up McIntosh, Hillbrandt, and Millward. It was possible, he thought, that the schooner might still be there.

Presently a great shout went up from the watchers on the hill. The frigate had been sighted as she emerged from behind a distant headland. She was four or five miles offshore, and the dying wind was so light that we knew she could not make the land before dark. Evidently her captain realized this, for shortly afterward the ship hove-to under her topsails.

Some of the Indians remained on the hill, but most of them, seeing that the vessel did not intend to come in that night, descended with us. On our way to Teina’s house we met Skinner and Coleman, who had been on an excursion into the mountains and had only just heard the news of the frigate. Coleman was deeply moved when I told him that the ship was, almost certainly, English. More than any of us, with the exception of Morrison, had he longed for home. He had a wife and children there and had formed no alliance with any of the Tahitian women. Tears of joy dimmed his eyes, and without waiting for further information he rushed up the hill for a sight of the vessel that would take him to England.

Stewart and I were concerned for Skinner. He had long since repented of the part he had taken in the mutiny, and was, in fact, the only one of the mutineers who had done so. His sense of guilt had grown stronger as the months had passed. A deeply religious man, he had brooded over his disloyalty to the Crown and was determined to give himself up at the first opportunity. We knew that repentance, however sincere, would have no weight with a court-martial. His doom was certain if he surrendered himself. Guilty though he undoubtedly was, we had no desire to see the poor fellow clapped into irons and taken to England to be hung. But he would not listen to our suggestions that he try to hide himself while there was yet time.

“I have no wish to escape,” he said. “I know what will happen when I surrender myself, but my death will be a warning to others who may be tempted to mutiny.”

We pleaded with him for some time, but it was useless, so we left him and proceeded to Teina’s house. We found the chief at supper, which he asked us to share with him, and while we ate he plied us with questions concerning the vessel. How many guns was she likely to carry? How many men? Would King George be aboard? And the like. All the Tahitians had a great desire to see the King of England, and Bligh, as well as the British captains who had visited the island before him, had played upon their credulity to the extent of giving them reason to hope that the King might some day visit Tahiti.

We explained to Teina that King George had great dominions, and was so occupied with affairs at home, particularly in wars with neighboring nations, that he had little opportunity for voyaging to such far places.

“But Tuté will come,” Teina said, with conviction. (Tuté was the universal name for Captain Cook, the nearest they could come to the sound of it; and Bligh was called Parai.) “Parai promised that Tuté would come. This must be his ship.” He went on to conjecture what the purpose of this visit might be. He believed that Cook and Bligh, if the latter chanced to be with him, would now decide to remain permanently at Tahiti. He would urge them to do so, and would set aside great tracts of land for their use and provide them with as many servants as they might want. With their help he would bring the whole of Tahiti under subjection; then we would all proceed to the island of Eimeo, and on to Raiatea and Bora Bora, conquering each of these islands in turn. And he promised that Stewart and I should be made great chiefs, and that our children should grow in power after us.

It must have been well past midnight when we left Teina’s house, but none of the people there or elsewhere thought of sleep that night. Those who had come from distant parts were encamped along the beach and among the groves inland, and the light of their fires illuminated the entire circle of the bay. Canoes were still arriving, most of them small craft containing ten or a dozen men, bringing island produce to be bartered for the trade goods of the vessel. As we walked down the beach we saw one huge canoe, containing fifty or more paddlers, just entering the bay. Her men were singing as they urged her forward, and the blades of the paddles flashed in the firelight as they approached. It was an interesting sight to watch them berth her. With her great curved stern rising high above the water, she looked like some strange sea monster. She was heavily loaded and grounded at some distance from the beach, whereupon all the men leaped out and brought her farther along. There must have been one hundred people in her, to say nothing of the cargo of pigs and fowls. When these had been unloaded, rollers were placed under her keel, and with twenty or thirty men on each side she was quickly run up the long slope of the beach to level ground.

We went to Stewart’s house, which stood just under One Tree Hill, on the western side of the bay. Here, too, everyone was astir. Peggy, Stewart’s wife, with their little daughter asleep on the mat beside her, was sorting over great rolls of tapa cloth, selecting the finest pieces as gifts for her husband’s friends on the ship. She took it for granted that we must know everyone aboard, and it was plain that she had no suspicion of what the arrival of the vessel might mean to us both. Presently I went off to seek Tuahu and my other friends from Tautira who were encamped near by. By this time dawn was not far off, and Tuahu suggested that we should take a canoe and paddle out to sea to meet the vessel.

“If it is a strange ship, Byam, the captain will be glad of a pilot into the bay. But I think it is Parai coming back to see us. We shall be the first to meet him.”

I agreed to the proposal at once, and taking old Paoto, Tuahu’s servant, with us, we hauled our canoe to the water, and a few moments later had rounded Point Venus and were well out to sea.

Tahiti had never seemed so beautiful as on that morning, in the faint light of dawn. The stars were shining brightly when we set out, but they faded gradually, and the island stood out in clear, cold silhouette against the sky. We paddled steadily for half an hour before we caught sight of the ship, and then drifted to wait for her to come up with us. The breeze was of the lightest, and an hour later she was still at a considerable distance. She was a frigate of twenty-four guns, and, although I was convinced that she was British, my heart leaped when at last I saw the English colours.

In my first eagerness to go off to her, I had forgotten that I was dressed as an Indian and not as an English midshipman. My only remaining uniform had come to grief at Tautira. I had not worn it from the day I left the Bounty, but had kept it carefully wrapped in a piece of tapa cloth hanging from a rafter in my house. Thinking it safe there, I had not examined the parcel in many months, and when at last I did so I found that it had been nearly devoured by rats, and was past all hope of repair. This mattered nothing then, for I had long since adopted the Tahitian costume, and for the most part wore nothing but a girdle of tapa and a turban of the same material. Reminded now of my half-naked condition, I was tempted to turn back, but it was too late to reconsider. The vessel was only a few hundred yards distant and had altered her course to pick us up.

The larboard bulwarks were crowded with men, and I saw the captain on the quarter-deck with his spyglass leveled at us, and a group of officers standing behind him. As the ship came alongside we paddled with her, and a line was thrown to us from the gangway. I clambered aboard and Tuahu after me. Paoto remained in the canoe, which was veered astern and towed after us.

My skin was as brown as that of the Indians themselves, and, with my arms covered with tattooing, it is not strange that I should have been mistaken for a Tahitian. A lieutenant stood at the gangway, and as we reached the deck sailors and marines alike crowded close for a better view. The lieutenant smiled ingratiatingly and patted Tuahu on the shoulder. “Maitai! Maitai!” (Good! Good!) he said. This was evidently the only Indian word he knew.

“You can address him in English, sir,” I said, smiling. “He understands it very well. My name is Byam, Roger Byam, late midshipman of His Majesty’s ship Bounty. If you like, I shall be glad to pilot you in to the anchorage.”

The expression on the lieutenant’s face altered at once. Without replying he glanced me up and down, from head to foot.

“Corporal of marines!” he called.

The corporal advanced and saluted.

“Fall in a guard and take this man aft.”

To my astonishment four men with muskets and bayonets fixed were told off, and I was placed in the midst of them, and in this manner marched to the captain, who awaited us on the quarter-deck. The lieutenant preceded us. “Here’s one of the pirates, sir,” he said.

“That I am not, sir!” I replied. “No more than you yourself!”

“Silence!” the captain ordered. He regarded me with an expression of cold hostility, but I was too incensed at the accusation to hold my tongue.

“Allow me to speak, sir,” I said. “I am not one of the mutineers. My name is....”

“Did you hear me, you scoundrel? I ordered you to be silent!”

I was hot with shame and anger, but I had self-possession enough not to give way further to it, and I was certain that the misunderstanding with respect to me would soon be cleared up. I saw Tuahu regarding me with an expression of utter amazement. I was not permitted to speak to him.

The most humiliating treatment was yet to come. The armourer was sent for, and a few moments later handcuffs were placed upon me and I was taken under guard to the captain’s cabin, there to await his pleasure. Two hours passed, during which time I was kept standing by the door. I saw no one except the guards, who refused to speak to me. Meanwhile the ship had been worked into Matavai Bay and came to anchor at the same spot where the Bounty had lain upon her arrival nearly three years earlier. Through the ports I could see the throngs of Indians along the shore and canoes putting off to the frigate. In one of the first of these were Coleman and Stewart. Stewart was dressed in his midshipman’s uniform, and Coleman in an old jacket and a pair of trousers patched with pieces of tapa cloth, all that remained of his European clothing. Their canoes passed under the counter and I saw no more of them for some time.

The frigate was called the Pandora, and she was commanded by Captain Edward Edwards, a tall spare man with cold blue eyes and pale bony hands and face. As soon as the ship was safely anchored he came to his cabin, followed by one of his lieutenants, Mr. Parkin. He seated himself at his table and ordered me to be brought before him. I protested at once against the treatment I had received, but he ordered me to be silent, and sat for some time regarding me as though I were a curiosity brought to him for examination. Having finished his scrutiny, he leaned back in his chair and gazed sternly at my face.

“What is your name?”

“Roger Byam.”

“You were a midshipman on His Majesty’s armed vessel, the Bounty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many of the Bounty’s company are now on the island of Tahiti?”

“Three, I believe, not counting myself.”

“Who are they?”

I gave him their names.

“Where is Fletcher Christian, and where is the Bounty?”

I told him of Christian’s departure with eight of the mutineers, and of all the events that had taken place at Tahiti since that time. I told him of the building of the schooner, under Morrison’s supervision, and of Morrison’s intention to sail with her to Batavia, where he hoped to find a homeward-bound ship.

“A likely story!” he said grimly. “In that case, why did not you go with him?”

“Because the schooner was not well found for so long a voyage. It seemed to me wiser to wait here for the arrival of an English ship.”

“Which you never expected to see, no doubt. You will be surprised to learn that Captain Bligh, and the men who were driven from his ship with him, have succeeded in reaching England?”

“I am profoundly glad to hear it, sir.”

“And you will be equally surprised to learn that all the facts of the mutiny, including that of your own villainy, are known.”

“My villainy, sir? I am as free from guilt in that affair as any member of your own ship’s company!”

“You dare to deny that you plotted with Christian to seize the Bounty?”

“Surely, sir, you must know that some of us who were left in the ship were compelled to remain for lack of accommodation in the launch? There were nine of us who took no part whatever in the mutiny. The launch was so overloaded that Captain Bligh himself begged that no more men should be sent into her; and he promised, if ever he reached England, to do justice to those of us who were forced to remain behind. Why, then, am I treated as though I were a pirate? If Captain Bligh were here....”

Edwards cut me short.

“That will do,” he said. “You will meet Captain Bligh in good time, when you have been taken to England to suffer the punishment you so richly merit. Now then, will you or will you not tell me where the Bounty is to be found?”

“I have told you all that I know, sir.”

“I shall find her and those who went with her, be sure of that. And I promise that neither you nor they shall gain by an attempt to shield them.”

I was too angry and sick at heart to reply. Never, during all the months that had passed since the mutiny, had I suspected that I might be considered a member of Christian’s party. Although I had not been able to speak with Bligh on the morning the ship was seized, Nelson, and others who went in the launch, knew of my loyalty and of my intention to leave with them. I had supposed that Bligh himself must have known, and I could not imagine what might have happened to cause me to be listed among the mutineers. I was eager to know the fate of those who had gone with Bligh, and how many of them had reached England safely, but Edwards would not permit me to inquire.

“You are here to be questioned, not I,” he said. “You still refuse to tell me where Christian is?”

“I know no more than you do, sir,” I replied.

He turned to the lieutenant.

“Mr. Parkin, have this man sent below, and see to it that he has no communication with anyone.... Wait a moment. Ask Mr. Hayward to step in.”

My surprise at the mention of Hayward’s name must have been apparent. A moment later the door opened, and Thomas Hayward, my former messmate on the Bounty, appeared. Forgetting my shackles, I stepped forward to greet him, but he gazed at me with a look of contempt, at the same time putting his hands behind his back.

“You know this man, Mr. Hayward?”

“Yes, sir. He is Roger Byam, a former midshipman on the Bounty.”

“That will do,” said Edwards. With another cool glance at me, Hayward went out, and I was taken by the guard to the orlop deck, to a place evidently prepared for prisoners, next to the bread room. It was a foul situation, below the water line, and nauseating with the stench of the bilges. The only means of ventilation was a ladderway some distance forward. Irons were now placed on my legs as well as on my wrists, and here I was left, with two guards outside the door at either end of the compartment. About an hour later, Stewart, Coleman, and Skinner were brought down and ironed in the same manner. No one, save the guard who brought our food, was permitted to enter the place, and we were forbidden to speak to each other. There we lay the whole of that interminable day, as wretched in mind and body as men could well be.