Читать книгу Men Against the Sea – Book Set - James Norman Hall - Страница 47

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There were some who doubted the landfall, who could not believe that the goal of our voyage was actually in sight. For all Mr. Bligh’s quiet assurance, and the boatswain’s repeated “Aye, lad! There’s the land—never a doubt of it!” they dared not believe, lest day should come and the dim outlines melt into the shapes of distant clouds. We hauled on a wind to the northeast, and those who could stood on the thwarts from time to time, their confidence in what they saw increasing from moment to moment. Some could do no more than raise themselves to a sitting position in the bottom of the launch, clinging to the thwarts or to the gunwales as they stared ahead.

Veil after veil of moonlit obscurity was drawn aside, and at last, in the clear light of early dawn, there it lay: Paradise itself, it seemed, its lofty outlines filling half the circle of the horizon, bearing from S.W. to N.E. by E. The sun rose, its shafts of level, golden light striking across promontory after promontory. We saw great valleys filled with purple shadow, and, high above the coast, forests appeared, interspersed with glades and lawns that might well have been the haunts where our first parents wandered in the innocence of the world.

Our capacities for joy and gratitude were not adequate to the occasion. Mr. Bligh, was, I believe, as near to tears as he had ever been in his life, but he held himself well under control. Others gave way to their emotion, and wept freely; indeed, we were so weak that tears came readily. Poor Elphinstone, alone of our company, was robbed of the joy of that never-to-be-forgotten morning; his sufferings had deprived him—temporarily, at least—of reason. He sat amidships, facing aft, scanning the empty sea behind us with an expression of hopeless bewilderment, an object of commiseration to all. Despite our efforts, we could not convince him that the land lay close ahead.

At the sunrise we were within two leagues of the coast. A land more green and fair has never gladdened seamen’s eyes; scarcely a man of us did not long to go ashore at once. The coast was low, but on the higher regions beyond, we saw many cultivated spots. Near one of the plantations we observed several huts, but no people there or elsewhere. Purcell and the master ventured to suggest to Mr. Bligh that we land, in hopes of finding some of the inhabitants, who might inform us as to the whereabouts of the Dutch settlement.

“I can well understand your impatience, Mr. Fryer,” said Bligh; “but we shall take no unnecessary risks. If my recollection serves me, Timor is all of one hundred leagues in extent. I have told you that I am by no means certain that the Dutch have a permanent outpost here. If they have, they may have subjected only a small part of the island to their rule. The inhabitants are, I believe, Malays, well known to be a cruel and treacherous race. We shall place ourselves in their power only as a last resort.”

There was no disputing the wisdom of this decision. What we feared, of course, was that no European settlement existed on the island; but we did not permit ourselves to consider this melancholy possibility, and both Bligh and Nelson recollected that Captain Cook had been informed that the most easterly station of the Dutch was upon Timor.

We bore away again to the W.S.W., keeping close enough to the coast to avoid missing any opening that might exist; but throughout the morning neither cove nor bay did we see, nor any place where a landing might have been effected, because of the great surf breaking all along this windward shore.

At noon we were abreast of a high headland only three miles distant, and, having passed it, we found the land still bearing off in a southwesterly direction for as far as the eye could reach. Our dinner was the usual allowance: one twenty-fifth of a pound of bread, and a half pint of water—for Mr. Bligh was not the man to relax his vigilance until assured that the need for vigilance was past; but the bird we had caught the night before was divided in the customary manner. I received a portion of the breast, which, a week earlier, I should have considered a tidbit of the rarest sort; but now my stomach revolted at the sight and tainted smell of the raw flesh, and I could not eat it. I gave my portion to Peckover, and merely to see the relish with which he devoured it upset me the more, so that I fell to retching violently. Six or seven others were in as bad a state. Mr. Bligh gave the weakest of us a swallow of rum, of which we still had three quarters of a bottle.

All through the afternoon the weather was hazy, and we could see no great distance before us, but were close enough in to observe the appearance of the coast, which was low and covered with a seemingly endless forest of fan palms. At this time we saw no signs anywhere of cultivated spots, and, as we proceeded, the land had a more arid look. Captain Bligh said nothing of the matter; but I could see that he was worried lest we had gone beyond the habitable part of the island. I know not how many times during this day we had before us a distant promontory, beyond which nothing of the island could be seen; but always, upon rounding it, we found another far ahead, and the land still bearing away to the south. At sunset, we had run twenty-three miles since noon; and in the gathering dusk we brought to under a close-reefed foresail, in shoal water within half a league of the shore.

We did not know how near we might be to the end of all our troubles. Perhaps only a few miles farther, we thought, lay the Dutch settlement; but we dared not risk sailing on, lest we should run past it in the darkness. The excitement of the previous eighteen hours had exhausted our little strength, and, had it been possible, I believe that Captain Bligh would have landed here, if only to give us the refreshment of stretching out our cramped and aching limbs. The surf on shore was not great at this point, but we were too weak to have run our boat through it; so we lay huddled in the launch, most of us too far spent even for conversation. In my own case, much as I regret to admit it, I was in a weaker condition than any of the company save Lebogue, and I had a great ulcer on my leg that kept me in constant torment. We were all of us, in fact, covered with sores, due to the constant chafing of our emaciated bodies against the boards of the boat, and kept open and raw by the action of salt water. Nelson astonished me at this time; he looked like a dying man, but he seemed to have drawn, merely from the sight of Timor, a strength which he was, somehow, able to impart to others. Together, he and Bligh took over the office of looking after the sick, and I shall not soon forget their comforting, heartening words as they made their way amongst us, helping some poor fellow to change to a more comfortable position, and doling out a few drops of rum or wine from the last of our precious supply.

We were drawn together that night as never before. We had suffered so much that we seemed of one body. Antipathies, whether small or large, arising from our different characters, vanished quite away, and a rich current of sympathy and common feeling ran through our forlorn little company, making us, for that night at least, brothers indeed. I had observed many different aspects of Mr. Bligh’s character, and, profoundly as I respected him, I had not supposed that he had in him any deep feeling of compassion for the men under his command. On this occasion he revealed a gentleness which quite altered my conception of his nature. The experience brought home to me the difficulty one has in forming a true notion of any of one’s fellow creatures. They must be seen over a long period of time, and under many and varied conditions not often presenting themselves in sequence to a single observer. But some men are ever the same, unchanging and unchangeable as rock, no matter what the conditions. Cole, the boatswain, was one of these. Loyalty to his commander, devotion to duty, sympathy for those weaker than himself, and an abiding trust in God were the corner stones of his nature. All through that interminable night he was ever on the alert to do some suffering man a kindness.

About two in the morning, we bore and stood close along the coast till daylight. Seeing no signs of habitation, we bore away to the westward, with a strong gale against a weather current, which occasioned much sea and forced us to resume the weary work of bailing. This fell chiefly upon Fryer, Cole, Peckover, and two of the midshipmen, Tinkler and Hayward; others did what little they could, sitting propped up against the thwarts.

By this time every man of us—save Bligh, perhaps—had a feeling of mingled fear and hatred toward the sea: as though it were not a mindless force but a conscious one, bent upon our destruction, and becoming increasingly enraged that we had survived its cruelty and were about to escape. Even Bligh must have had something of the feeling, for I heard him say to the master: “She’s not done with us yet.... Bail, lads!” he called. “I’ll soon have you out of this.”

Once more we had before us a low coast, with points opening to the west; and again we were encouraged to think we had reached the extremity of the island; but, toward the middle of the morning, we found the coast reaching on to the south a weary way ahead. Even the land, to my distorted fancy, appeared hostile—unwilling to receive us, tempting us on with false hopes only that we might be the more bitterly disappointed.

Presently we discerned, to the southwest, the dim outlines of high land, but in the moisture-laden air we could not be sure whether or no it was a part of Timor. Seeing no break between it and the coast we were following, Bligh concluded that it must be a distant headland of the island; therefore we stood toward it, and several hours passed before we discovered that it was a separate island—the island of Roti, as we afterward learned.

Shortly after Mr. Bligh had altered our course to return to the coast we had left, I lost all knowledge of what went on. The sun had been extremely hot, and we had no protection from its rays. It may be that I suffered a slight stroke, and this, combined with my other miseries, had proven too much for me. At any rate, I sank into a stupor which left me a dim consciousness of misery and of little else. Now and then I heard the confused murmur of voices, and I vaguely remember having been roused from frightful dreams, when I thought I was struggling alone in the sea and upon the point of drowning, to find that I was still in the launch, being raised up to escape the water that came over the side. I was, indeed, far gone, powerless to do aught for myself. Then followed a period of complete darkness, when I was nothing but an inert mass of skin and bones; and my next recollection was of someone repeatedly calling my name. Try as I would, I could not rouse myself sufficiently to reply. I heard Bligh’s voice: “Give him the whole of it, Mr. Nelson. He’ll come round.”

And so I did. A quarter of a pint of rum was poured down my gullet. I remember how the heat and the strength of it seemed to flow into every part of me, clearing my brain and giving me a blessed sense of well-being; but oh! more blessed was the sound of Nelson’s voice: “Ledward! Ledward! We’re here, old fellow!”

It was deep night, the cloudless sky sprinkled with stars dimmed by the soft splendour of the waning moon. I found myself sitting propped up in the stern sheets. Nelson was kneeling beside me, and Cole supporting me with his arm around my shoulders. As I turned my head, Cole said: “That’s what was needed, sir; he’s coming round nicely.”

I was conscious of a feeling of shame and vexation that I, the Bounty’s surgeon, should be in such a deplorable state—an encumbrance instead of a help to the others.

“What’s this, Nelson?” I faltered. “Damme! Have I been asleep?”

“Don’t talk, Ledward,” he replied. “Look! Look yonder! ... Turn him a little, Mr. Cole.”

The boatswain lifted me gently so that I sat half facing forward. The sail had been lowered, and there were six men at the oars, pulling slowly and feebly across what appeared to be the head of a great bay, so calm that the wavering reflection of the moon lay on the surface of the water. Outlines of the land were clearly revealed; not half a mile away I could see two square-rigged vessels lying at anchor, and beyond them, on a high foreshore, what appeared to be a fort whose walls gleamed faintly in the mild light.

“Easy, lads,” Bligh called to the men at the oars, “don’t exert yourselves”; and then, to me: “How is it with you, Mr. Ledward? I was bound you shouldn’t miss this moment.”

I could not speak. I hesitate to admit it, but I could not. I was weak as a six-months’ child, and now, for the first time, tears gushed from my eyes. They were not tears of relief, of joy at our deliverance. No. I could have controlled those. But when I looked at Mr. Bligh, sitting at his old position with his hand on the tiller, there welled up within me a feeling toward him that destroyed the barriers we Englishmen are so proud of erecting against one another. I saw him then as he deserved to be seen, in a light that transfigured him. Enough. The deepest emotions of the heart are not lightly to be spoken of, and no words of mine could add to the stature of the captain of the Bounty’s launch.

I managed at length to say: “I’m doing very well, sir,” and left it at that.

The silence of the land seemed to flow down upon us, healing our weary hearts, filling us with a deep content that made all speech superfluous. The launch moved forward as smoothly as though she were gliding through air, and the faint creak of the oars against the tholepins and the gentle plash of the blades in the water were sounds by which to measure the vastness of this peace.

It was then about three in the morning. Nearer we came and nearer to the little town hushed in sleep; not even a dog was astir to bay at the moon. As we drew in we saw that the two ships were anchored a considerable distance to the right of the fort and about a cable-length from shore. We made out a small cutter riding near them, and not a light showing in any of these vessels.

We turned then to approach an open space on the beach that appeared to be a point of embarkation for boats, and Mr. Cole made his way to the bow. A fishing line with a stone attached served as our lead line. At Mr. Bligh’s order, Tinkler began heaving it. “Six fathoms, sir,” he called. We moved slowly on into shallower water. In the moonlight we could now see the ghostly gleam of roofs and walls, embowered in trees and flowering shrubs whose perfume floated out to us with the cool, moist air that flowed down from the valley of the interior.

“Way enough!” said Bligh, and then: “Drop the grapnel, Mr. Cole.”

The oars were gotten in; there was a light splash as the grapnel went over the side. The boatswain paid out the line and made fast. Our voyage was at an end.

There were but eight of our company strong enough to sit upon the thwarts; the others were lying or sitting, propped up in the bottom of the boat.

“Let us pray, lads,” said Bligh. We bowed our heads while he returned thanks to Almighty God.

We lay within thirty or forty yards of the beach. A little distance to the right, the walls of the fort rose from their ramparts of rock. All was silent there; not so much as a gleam of light appeared anywhere in the settlement. Captain Bligh hailed the fort repeatedly, with no result.

“Try your voice on ’em, Mr. Purcell,” he said.

Purcell hailed, then the boatswain, then the two together; but there was no response.

“By God,” said Bligh, “were we at war with the Dutch, I’ll warrant we could capture the place, weak as we are, with nothing but four rusty cutlasses. They’ve not so much as a sentinel on the walls.”

“We’ve roused someone at last,” said Nelson. “Look yonder.”

A strange-looking man was just emerging from the shadows of the trees lining the road that led to the beach. He was clad only in shirt and trousers, and had what appeared to be a white nightcap on his head. He was exceedingly fat, and walked at a waddling gait.

“Can you speak English, my good man?” Bligh called.

He came forward another pace or two, as though for a clearer view of us, but made no reply.

“I say, can you speak English? You understand?”

Whether it were astonishment, or fear, or both, or neither, that moved him, we were at a loss to know; but of a sudden he turned on his incredibly short legs and waddled away at twice the speed with which he had approached.

“Ahoy there!” Bligh called after him. “Don’t go! Wait, I say!”

The man turned, shouted something in a deep, powerful voice, and disappeared under the shadow of the trees.

“Was it Dutch he spoke, Nelson?” Bligh asked.

“Undoubtedly,” said Nelson; “but that is as much as I can say.... We shall fare well here, that’s plain.”

Bligh laughed. “Aye, so we shall, if that fellow is an average specimen of the inhabitants. Damn his eyes! What possessed him to run off like that?”

“Likely he’s gone for help, sir. There may be English-speaking people here.”

“Let us hope so, Mr. Fryer. Possess your souls in patience, lads. We must not go ashore without permission, and that we shall soon have, I promise you. Dawn is scarcely an hour off.”

In a little time the Dutchman returned with another man dressed in a seaman’s uniform.

“Ahoy, there! What boat is that?” called the latter.

“Who are you?” Bligh replied. “An Englishman?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Is there an English ship here?”

“No, sir.”

“Then how came you in these parts, my man?” said Bligh, with something of his old quarter-deck manner.

“I’m quartermaster’s mate, sir, of the Dutch vessel yonder. Captain Spikerman.”

“Good!” said Bligh. “Listen carefully, young man! Tell your captain—what’s his name, again?”

“Spikerman, sir.”

“Tell Captain Spikerman that Captain Bligh, of His Majesty’s armed transport Bounty, wishes to see him at his very earliest convenience. Inform him that the matter is pressing. You understand?”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Very well; carry him this message instantly. Don’t fear to rouse him. He will thank you for doing so.”

“Aye, aye, sir. He’s sleeping ashore. I’ll go this instant.”

We must have waited a full three quarters of an hour, although the time seemed immeasurably longer. The delay, as we were to learn, was not Captain Spikerman’s fault. He resided in a distant part of the town, and came as soon as he could dress.

Dawn was at hand, and the people in the town were stirring out of their houses, when we saw him approaching with two of his officers and the man who had carried our message. Captain Bligh stood up in the stern sheets. His clothing was a mass of rags revealing his frightfully emaciated limbs; his haggard, bony face was covered with a month’s growth of beard; but he held himself as erect as though he were standing on the Bounty’s quarter-deck.

“Captain Spikerman?” he called.

For a few seconds the little group on shore stared at us in silence. Captain Spikerman stepped forward. “At your service, sir,” he replied.

“Captain Bligh, of His Majesty’s armed transport Bounty. We are in need of assistance, sir. I will be grateful indeed if you will secure us permission to land.”

“You may come ashore at once, Captain Bligh. I can vouch for the governor’s permission. Your boat may be brought directly to the beach.”

“Haul in the grapnel, Mr. Cole. Two men at the oars.” Tinkler and Hayward hauled it in, Cole coiling the line neatly as they did so. Peckover and Purcell took the oars, and the launch proceeded on the last fifty yards of a voyage of more than three thousand, six hundred miles. “Easy, Mr. Cole! Don’t let her touch!”

The boatswain fended off with our bamboo pole and attempted to leap out to hold her, but the poor fellow had forgotten his condition. His legs gave way and he fell into the water, holding on to the gunwale, until, with a grim effort, he managed to get his footing. Tinkler threw a line ashore which the English seaman of the Dutch ship took up. Captain Spikerman and his officers stood for a moment as though powerless to move. Then, taking in our situation, they themselves sprang into the shallow water to draw us alongside.

“God in heaven, Captain Bligh! What is this? From what place do you come?” Mr. Spikerman exclaimed.

“That you shall know in good time, sir,” said Bligh; “but I must first see to my men. Some of them are in a pitiable state from starvation. Is there a place in the town where they may be cared for?”

“You may take them directly to my house. One moment, sir.”

Captain Spikerman turned to one of his officers and spoke to him rapidly in the Dutch tongue. The young man made off at once, half running along the road to the town.

By this time a crowd of the townspeople had collected about us, and others came from moment to moment. They were of various nationalities,—Dutch, Malays, Chinese, and people evidently of mixed blood,—and they stared at us with expressions of mingled horror and pity. Meanwhile, those of us who could had gotten out of the launch; but more than half of the company had to be carried ashore. We were taken a little way up the beach, where mats were spread for us on the sand. There we waited the arrival of conveyances which were to carry us to Captain Spikerman’s house, while the townspeople gathered in a wide circle, gazing at us as though they would never have done.

Of our people, Lebogue was in the most serious condition. The old fellow lay close beside me. He was no more than a skeleton covered with skin; but his was a resolute spirit, and, weak as he was, he yet had within him a strong will to live. Nelson, Simpson, Hall, Smith, and myself were in a plight only a little less grave. Nelson tried to walk ashore, but after a few steps his legs gave way and he was constrained to allow himself to be carried. Hallet was very weak, but managed to keep his footing. Poor Elphinstone’s disabilities were, as I have said, mental rather than physical. His face still wore its vacant, puzzled expression, and he appeared to have no knowledge of his surroundings.

In a short while, Mr. Spikerman’s lieutenant returned with litters and a score of Malay chair-men. They carried us into the town, Mr. Bligh and the stronger of the company following on foot. I have only a dim recollection of the way we went, past shops and warehouses, and along shaded streets, till we came to a pleasant house in an elevated situation where Captain Spikerman lived. He and his officers were kindness itself; I shall ever have a feeling of sincere liking for the people of the Dutch nation because of the humane treatment we received from those members of it who resided at Coupang. Such was the name of the haven—which I might better call “heaven”—at which we had arrived.

When we had been bathed with warm water our sores were dressed by Mr. Max, the surgeon of the town; whereupon we were placed in beds and given a little hot soup, or tea, which was all that our stomachs could receive at this time. I am speaking here of the greatest invalids amongst us, who were cared for in one room. Captain Bligh, when he had bathed and refreshed himself with food and a few hours’ sleep, accompanied Captain Spikerman to the house of Mr. Timotheus Wanjon, the secretary to Mr. Van Este, the governor of the town. Mr. Van Este was at this time lying very ill, and incapable of transacting any business.

On this day I had the sweetest sleep I have ever enjoyed in my life. The cooling ointment with which my sores had been dressed, and the soft bed upon which I lay, lulled me to rest within half an hour. I was aroused, toward evening, to take a little soup and bread, but fell to sleep again immediately after, and did not waken until about ten of the clock the following morning.

After four days of complete rest, we were wonderfully restored, and all except Lebogue could rise from bed and walk a little in Mr. Spikerman’s garden. His services to us were endless; he had put us under obligations we shall never be able to repay, but we did not, of course, wish to discommode him longer than was absolutely necessary. All his rooms were taken up by our company, and he was sleeping at the house of Mr. Wanjon. Captain Bligh found that there was but one available house in the settlement. Having examined it, he decided that we should all lodge there. Mr. Spikerman suggested that the house be taken by Captain Bligh for himself and his officers, and that the men be accommodated on one of the vessels lying in the harbour, but Captain Bligh was not willing at such a time to fare better than his men. Therefore, on our fifth day in Coupang, we removed to our new quarters.

The dwelling contained a hall with a room at each end, and was surrounded with a piazza. Above, there was a spacious, airy loft. One room was reserved to Captain Bligh; Nelson, Fryer, Peckover, and myself lodged in the other, and the men were assigned to the loft. The hall was common to all of the officers, and the back piazza was set aside for the use of the people. In order to simplify the matter of our victualing, the three midshipmen readily agreed to mess with the men. Through the kindness of Mr. Van Este, the house was furnished with beds, tables, chairs, settees—everything, in fact, of which we stood in need; and our food was dressed at his own house and brought to us by his servants.

Mr. Van Este expressed a desire to see Captain Bligh and some of his officers. It was therefore arranged that Mr. Bligh, Nelson, and myself should wait upon him, in company with Mr. Wanjon and Captain Spikerman. We found the governor propped up in bed, so wasted by his illness that he looked—as, indeed, he was—at death’s door. His voice was exceedingly weak, but his eyes were full of interest. Captain Spikerman acted as our interpreter. He acquainted the governor with the circumstances of the mutiny. Mr. Van Este was not aware of the position of Tofoa and the Friendly Islands; in fact, I believe that he did not know of their existence. When he had been told that we had made a voyage in the ship’s launch of above three thousand, six hundred miles, he raised a thin white hand and said but one word in reply. Captain Spikerman turned to Mr. Bligh.

“Mr. Van Este says ‘Impossible,’ Captain Bligh. You will understand that this is only a manner of speaking, to convey his astonishment. He does not doubt your word.”

Bligh smiled faintly. “You may tell Mr. Van Este that he is right: it was impossible; nevertheless, we did it.”

He then conveyed, through Mr. Spikerman, our gratitude for the kind and hospitable treatment we had received, and we took our leave. The governor was far too ill to bear the fatigue of a long conversation.

This day, June the nineteenth, was remarkable for still another reason. Mr. Max, my Dutch colleague, and I had agreed that our company need not be kept longer on a diet. Mr. Wanjon, who himself overlooked the matter of our victualing, had provided a feast equal to the greatness of the occasion; and he, Captain Spikerman, and Mr. Max readily consented to join us at table. On our way from the governor’s house, we called for Mr. Max, and then proceeded to our residence, where the men were already at their dinner on the back piazza. Cole sat at the head of the table, with the midshipmen on either side and the others below. Even Lebogue had sufficiently recovered to be present. The table was loaded with food that would have gladdened any seaman’s eyes; it was a pleasure to see the half-starved men stowing it away.

At Captain Bligh’s entrance, they rose; but he at once motioned them to be seated.

“Eat hearty, lads,” he said. “There’s no need to wish you good appetites, that’s plain.”

“We’re doin’ famous, sir,” Cole replied. A moment later, Captain Bligh retired with our guests to the hall, while Nelson and I remained for a little to look on at this memorable feast.

“I hope you’ll not think we’re goin’ beyond reason, Mr. Ledward,” said Cole. “Better vittles I never tasted!”

“And well you deserve them, every man of you,” I replied. “Eat as much as you like.”

“Aye, they’ll do,” said Purcell, grudgingly; “but I’d sooner set down to a good feed of eggs and bacon. All these rich falderals ... I don’t well know what I’m eatin’.”

“Trust old Chips to find fault,” said Hayward.

“Here, Purcell; have some of the bread, if you don’t like Dutch food,” said Hallet. “Pass it along to him, Tinkler.”

“Mr. Nelson and Mr. Ledward would like some, I’m sure,” said Tinkler. “Try a little, Mr. Nelson.”

He rose and took up a large platter, set high in the middle of the table on four tall water-glasses. Heaped on the platter was something that resembled nothing on earth save what it was: the bread of the Bounty’s launch.

“Well, I’m damned!” said Nelson, with a laugh.

“Have just a crumb as an appetizer. We did, the lot of us,” said Tinkler. “Mr. Ledward, what about you?”

“Wait!” Hayward exclaimed. “Don’t you give ’em a ration, Tinkler, without weighing it. Where’s Captain Bligh’s scales?”

It warmed my heart to see them in such a merry mood, and the Bounty bread—the sight of it, at least—was indeed the best of reminders of misery past and done with.

“Is this all that was left in the launch, Tinkler?” Nelson asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve been making an estimate, Mr. Nelson,” said Hayward. “What you see on the platter would have lasted the eighteen of us another eleven days, had we not had the misfortune of finding Coupang.”

“Save for our abominable luck in landing amongst the Dutch, we might even have got home on it,” Tinkler added. “What do you think, boatswain?”

Cole looked up from his plate, holding his fork erect in his fist.

“I’ll say this, Mr. Tinkler,” he replied gravely. “If Captain Bligh was forced to take us all the way to England in the launch, with no more bread than what’s on that plate, I’ll warrant he could do it if we’d back him up.”

At Cole’s words there was a cheer, in which every man at the table joined heartily.

“But don’t, for God’s sake, suggest it, boatswain!” said Hayward in a low voice. “He might want to try.”

The dinner at the captain’s table proceeded more soberly. There was food, food, and more food: curried prawns with rice, baked fish with rice, roast fowl with rice, and many other dishes, with excellent wine and schnapps to wash all down. We of the Bounty’s launch had been so long accustomed to thinking of wine and spirits as the most precious of commodities, to be taken only a spoonful at a time, that it was hard to convince ourselves that we need no longer be sparing of them. Captain Bligh, always a moderate drinker, was still sparing; but the rest of us did better justice to the good cheer; and our Dutch companions ate and drank with as much zest as though they had been members of our company all the way from Tofoa. Nelson threw a quizzical glance in my direction, toward the end of the meal, when they were attacking new dishes with undiminished appetite.

Our guests were naturally curious about the events of the mutiny, but they soon realized that it was a sore subject with Mr. Bligh, which he preferred not to discuss.

“You have our sworn affidavits, Mr. Wanjon,” he remarked, at this time. “The facts are there, attested to by every one of my men. It is not likely that the villains will come this way, but should they do so, seize and hold them. Let not one of them escape.”

“You may set your mind at rest on that score,” Mr. Wanjon replied; and with this the discussion of the mutiny was dropped.

“I greatly desire to proceed homeward as soon as my men are fit to travel,” Bligh remarked. He laughed in a wry manner. “We are a company of paupers, Mr. Wanjon. We’ve not a shilling amongst us; not a halfpenny bit!”

“Do not let that worry you, Captain Bligh. Mr. Van Este has instructed me to provide you with whatever funds you may desire.”

“That’s uncommon kind of him. I shall draw bills on His Majesty’s Government.... Captain Spikerman, is there a small vessel to be had hereabout—one fit to carry us to Batavia? I wish to arrive there in time to sail home with your October fleet.”

“There is a small schooner lying in a cove about two leagues distant,” Captain Spikerman replied. “She can be bought, I know, for one thousand rix-dollars.”

“Pretty dear, isn’t it?” said Bligh.

“She’s well worth it, I assure you. She is thirty-four feet long, perfectly sound, and would serve your purpose admirably. Should you care to look at her, I can have her here for your inspection within a day or two.”

“Excellent,” said Bligh. “I’ll be greatly obliged to you.”

The dinner was at an end, and presently our guests left us. Nelson was in a jubilant mood. He had asked permission to botanize the island in the environs of Coupang, and Mr. Wanjon not only agreed but had offered to provide servants to accompany him on his expeditions. Nelson was in no fit state to go abroad, and I demurred strongly against the plan. However, he had won Captain Bligh’s consent and would listen to none of my objections. As a matter of fact, I would gladly have gone with him, had it not been that my ulcered leg made walking out of the question.

During the next ten days he was constantly away from Coupang, returning only occasionally to bring in his specimens. At first he appeared to thrive upon the work, but I soon realized that he was exerting himself far beyond his strength. Early in July he came down with an inflammatory fever which at last confined him to his bed, whether he would or no. Mr. Max and I both attended him, but his condition grew steadily worse. His weakened constitution had been tried too severely, and it was soon plain to both of us that he was dying.

He passed away on the twentieth of July, at one o’clock of the morning. I need not say how his loss affected our company. He was respected and loved by every one of us. In my own case, we had been friends from the day of our first meeting at Spithead, and I had looked forward to many years of his friendship. As for Mr. Bligh, Nelson was, I believe, one of three or four men whom he held in his heart of hearts. I think he would sooner have lost the half of his company than to have lost him.

We buried him the following day. His coffin was carried by twelve soldiers from the fort, dressed in black. Mr. Bligh and Mr. Wanjon walked immediately behind the bier; then came ten gentlemen of the town and the officers from the ships in the harbour; and the Bounty’s people followed after. Mr. Bligh read the service, and it was as much as he could do to go through with it. The body was laid to rest behind the chapel, in that part of the cemetery set aside for Europeans.

I recall with little pleasure the remainder of our sojourn in Coupang. Mr. Bligh was constantly employed about the business of our departure, and the Bounty’s people were daily aboard the schooner he had bought, making her ready for sea. In my own case, I was as useless now as I had been much of the time in the Bounty’s launch. My ulcer would not heal, and I was forced to sit in idleness on the piazza of our dwelling, thinking of Nelson, and how gladly he would have lived to go home with us.

The schooner was a staunch little craft, as Captain Spikerman had assured us. Bligh named her Resource, and, as we were to go along the Java coast, which is infested with small, piratical vessels, he armed her with four brass swivels and fourteen stand of small arms, with an abundance of powder and shot.

On the twentieth of August, being entirely prepared for sea, we spent the morning in waiting upon our various Dutch friends, whose kindness had been unremitting from the day of our arrival at Coupang. Mr. Van Este, the governor, was lying at the very point of death, and Captain Bligh was not able to see him. Mr. Wanjon received us in his stead, and Mr. Bligh tendered him our grateful thanks for the innumerable services he had rendered us. Mr. Max, the surgeon, who had cared for our people when I was unable to do so, would accept no remuneration for his attendance upon us, saying that he had done no more than his duty. His action was typical of that of others at Coupang who had been our hosts for more than two months.

Throughout the afternoon our hosts became our guests on board the Resource, and we showed them what small hospitalities our poor means afforded.

Captain Bligh looked his old self again. He was now cloathed as befitted his rank, and his hair was neatly dressed and powdered. As he stood on the after-deck, talking with Captain Spikerman and Mr. Wanjon, I could not but remark the contrast between his appearance now and what it had been upon our arrival at Coupang. Nevertheless, as I observed him, I was conscious of a curious feeling of disappointment. It may be thought strange, but I liked him better as he was in the Bounty’s launch: rags hanging from his wasted limbs, his hand on the tiller, the great seas foaming up behind him, and the low scud flying close overhead. There he was unique, one man in ten thousand. On the after-deck of the Resource, he appeared to be merely one of the innumerable captains of His Majesty’s Navy. But well I knew in my heart the quality of the man who stood there. Forty-one days in a ship’s boat had taught me that.

Toward four of the afternoon, the last of our guests returned to the shore. The breeze favouring, we weighed at once and stood off toward the open sea. The beach was thronged with people waving hats and handkerchiefs, and as we drew away the air quivered with the parting salute from the fort. Mr. Peckover, our gunner, was rejoiced to be employed for the first time this long while in his proper duties. Our brass swivels replied bravely to the Dutch salutation.

As for the Bounty’s launch, she was towing behind, with Tinkler at the tiller, proud of the honour conferred upon him. Peckover and I were standing at the rail, looking down upon her in silence, thinking of her faithful service. We loved her, every man of us, as though she were a sentient being.

Presently Peckover turned to me. “How well she tows,” he said. “She seems to want to come. Though we had no line to her, I’ll warrant she’d still follow Captain Bligh.”

“By God, Peckover,” I said, “I believe she would!”