ENDNOTES:
The discovery of this island is owing to Fernandez de Quiros in 1606, which he named La Sagittaria, Some doubts were at first entertained of its identity with Otaheite, but the small difference of a few miles in latitude, and about two degrees of longitude, the description as to size, the low isthmus, the distance from it of any other island at all similar, and above all, the geographical position—all prove its identity—although Quiros calls it, what it certainly is not, a low island.
A Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean, Appendix, pp. 336, 342.
Cook appears not to have exercised his usual judgement in estimating the population of this island. After stating the number of war-canoes at seventeen hundred and twenty, and able men to man them, at sixty-eight thousand eight hundred, he comes to the conclusion that the population must consist of two hundred and four thousand souls; and reflecting on the vast swarms which everywhere appeared, 'I was convinced,' he says, 'that this estimate was not much, if at all, too great.'
The words within brackets are in the original despatch.
He was born in the Isle of Man, his father being Deemster of Man, and Seneschal to the Duke of Athol.
United Service Journal, April, 1831.
Hayward and Hallet, who may thus be considered as the passive cause of the mutiny.
Quarterly Review, No. 89.
One person turns his back on the object that is to be divided; another then points separately to the portions, at each of them asking aloud, 'Who shall have this?' to which the first answers by naming somebody. This impartial method of distribution gives every man an equal chance of the best share. Bligh used to speak of the great amusement the poor people had at the beak and claws falling to his share.
If Bligh here meant to deny the fact of men, in extreme cases, destroying each other for the sake of appeasing hunger, he is greatly mistaken. The fact was but too well established, and to a great extent, on the raft of the French frigate Meduse, when wrecked on the coast of Africa, and also on the rock in the Mediterranean, when the Nautilus frigate was lost. There may be a difference between men, in danger of perishing by famine, when in robust health, and men like those of the Bounty, worn by degrees to skeletons, by protracted famine, who may thus have become equally indifferent to life or death.
The escape of the Centaur's boat, perhaps, comes nearest to it. When the Centaur was sinking, Captain Inglefield and eleven others, in a small leaky boat, five feet broad, with one of the gunwales stove, nearly in the middle of the Western Ocean, without compass, without quadrant, without sail, without great-coat or cloak, all very thinly clothed, in a gale of wind, with a great sea running, and the winter fast approaching,—the sun and stars, by which alone they could shape their course, sometimes hidden for twenty-four hours;—these unhappy men, in this destitute and hopeless condition, had to brave the billows of the stormy Atlantic, for nearly a thousand miles. A blanket, which was by accident in the boat, served as a sail, and with this they scudded before the wind, in expectation of being swallowed up by every wave; with great difficulty the boat was cleared of water before the return of the next great sea; all of the people were half drowned, and sitting, except the balers, at the bottom of the boat. On quitting the ship the distance of Fayal was two hundred and sixty leagues, or about nine hundred English miles.
Their provisions were a bag of bread, a small ham, a single piece of pork, two quart bottles of water, and a few of French cordials. One biscuit, divided into twelve morsels, was served for breakfast, and the same for dinner; the neck of a bottle broken off, with the cork in, supplied the place of a glass; and this filled with water was the allowance for twenty-four hours for each man.
On the fifteenth day, they had only one day's bread, and one bottle of water remaining of a second supply of rain; on this day Matthews, a quarter-master, the stoutest man in the boat, perished of hunger and cold. This poor man, on the day before, had complained of want of strength in his throat, as he expressed it, to swallow his morsel; and, in the night, drank salt-water, grew delirious, and died without a groan. Hitherto despair and gloom had been successfully prevented, the men, when the evenings closed in, having been encouraged by turns to sing a song, or relate a story, instead of a supper: 'but,' says the Captain, 'this evening I found it impossible to raise either.' The Captain had directed the clothes to be taken from the corpse of Matthews and given to some of the men, who were perishing with, cold; but the shocking skeleton-like appearance of his remains made such an impression on the people, that all efforts to raise their spirits were ineffectual. On the following day, the sixteenth, their last breakfast was served with the bread and water remaining, when John Gregory, the quarter-master, declared with much confidence that he saw land in the south-east, which turned out to be Fayal.
But the most extraordinary feat of navigation is that which is related (on good authority) in a note of the Quarterly Review, vol. xviii. pp. 337-339:—
Of all the feats of navigation on record, however, that of Diogo Botelho Perreira, in the early period of 1536-37, stands pre-eminent; it is extracted from the voluminous Decades of Diogo de Couto, whose work, though abounding with much curious matter, like those of most of the old Portuguese writers, has not been fortunate enough to obtain an English translation. We are indebted to a friend for pointing it out to us, and we conceive it will be read with interest.
'In the time of the vice-royalty of Don Francisco de Almeyda there was a young gentleman in India of the name of Diogo Botelho Perreira, son of the commander of Cochin, who educated him with great care, so that he soon became skilled in the art of navigation, and an adept in the construction of marine charts. As he grew up, he felt anxious to visit Portugal, where, on his arrival, he was well received at court, and the king took pleasure in conversing with him on those subjects which had been the particular objects of his studies. Confident of his own talents, and presuming on the favour with which the king always treated him, he ventured one day to request his Majesty to appoint him commander of the fortress of Chaul. The king smiled at his request, and replied, that "the command of the fortress was not for pilots." Botelho was piqued at this answer, and, on returning into the ante-chamber, was met by Don Antonio Noronha, second son of the Marquis of Villa Real, who asked him if his suit had been granted: he answered, "Sir, I will apply where my suit will not be neglected." When this answer came to the ears of the king, he immediately ordered Botelho to be confined in the castle of Lisbon, lest he should follow the example of Megalhaens, and go over to Spain. There he remained a prisoner until the admiral viceroy Don Vasco da Gama, solicited his release, and was permitted to take him to India; but on the express condition that he should not return to Portugal, except by special permission. Under these unpleasant circumstances this gentleman proceeded to India, anxious for an opportunity of distinguishing himself, that he might be permitted again to visit Portugal.
'It happened about this time that the Sultan Badur, sovereign of Cambaya, gave the governor, Nuno da Cunha, permission to erect a fortress on the island of Diu, an object long and anxiously wished for, as being of the greatest importance to the security of the Portuguese possessions in India. Botelho was aware how acceptable this information would be to the king, and therefore deemed this a favourable opportunity of regaining his favour, by conveying such important intelligence; and he resolved to perform the voyage in a vessel so small, and so unlike what had ever appeared in Portugal, that it should not fail to excite astonishment, how any man could undertake so long and perilous a navigation, in such a frail and diminutive bottom.
'Without communicating his scheme to any person, he procured a fusta, put a deck on it from head to stern, furnished it with spare sails and spars, and every other necessary, and constructed two small tanks for water.
'As soon as the monsoon served, he embarked with some men in his service, giving out that he was going to Melinde; and, to give colour to this story, he proceeded to Baticala, where he purchased some cloths and beads for that market, and laid in provisions; some native merchants also embarked with a few articles on board for the Melinde market, to which he did not choose to object, lest it should alarm his sailors.
'He set sail with the eastern monsoon, in the beginning of October, and arrived safely at Melinde, where he landed the native merchants, took in wood, water, and refreshments, and again put to sea, informing his crew that he was going to Quiloa. When he had got to a distance from the land, it would appear that some of his crew had mutinied; but this he had foreseen and provided for; putting some of them in irons, and promising at the same time amply to reward the services of the rest, and giving them to understand that he was going to Sofala on account of the trade in gold. Thus he proceeded, touching at various places for refreshments, which he met with in great plenty and very cheap.
'From Sofala he proceeded along the coast till he had passed the Cabo dos Correntes, and from thence along the shore, without ever venturing to a distance from the land, and touching at the different rivers, until he passed the Cape of Good Hope, which he did in January 1537.
'From thence he stretched into the ocean with gentle breezes, steering for St. Helena; where, on arriving, he drew his little vessel ashore, to clean her bottom and repair her, and also to give a few days' rest to his crew, of whom some had perished of cold, notwithstanding his having provided warm clothing for them.
'Departing from St. Helena, he boldly steered his little bark across the wide ocean, directing his career to St. Thomé, where he took in provisions, wood, and water; and from thence he proceeded to the bar of Lisbon, where he arrived in May, when the king was at Almeyrin. He entered the river with his oars, his little vessel being dressed with flags and pendants, and anchored at Point Leira opposite to Salvaterra, not being able to get farther up the river. This novelty produced such a sensation in Lisbon that the Tagus was covered with boats to see the fusta Diogo Botelho Perreira landed in a boat, and proceeded to Almeyrin, to give the king an account of his voyage, and solicit a gratification for the good news which he brought, of his Majesty now being possessed of a fortress on the island of Diu.
'The king was highly pleased with this intelligence, but, as Botelho brought no letters from the governor, he did not give him the kind of reception which he had expected. On the contrary, the king treated him with coldness and distance; his Majesty, however, embarked to see the fusta, on board of which he examined every thing with much attention, and was gratified in viewing a vessel of such a peculiar form, and ordered money and clothes to be given to the sailors—nor could he help considering Diogo Botelho as a man of extraordinary enterprise and courage, on whose firmness implicit reliance might be placed.
'The little vessel was ordered to be drawn ashore at Sacabem, where it remained many years (until it fell to pieces), and was visited by people from all parts of Europe, who beheld it with astonishment. The king subsequently received letters from the governor of Nuno da Cunha, confirming the news brought by Botelho; the bearer of these letters, a Jew, was immediately rewarded with a pension of a hundred and forty milreas; but Botelho was neglected for many years, and at last appointed commander of St. Thomé, and finally made captain of Cananor in India, that he might be at a distance from Portugal.'
The vessel named fusta is a long, shallow, Indian-built row-boat, which uses latine sails in fine weather. These boats are usually open, but Botelho covered his with a deck: its dimensions, according to Lavanha, in his edition of De Barros' unfinished Decade, are as follows:—length, twenty-two palmos, or sixteen feet six inches. Breadth, twelve palmos, or nine feet. Depth, six palmos, or four feet six inches. Bligh's boat was twenty-three feet long, six feet nine inches broad, and two feet nine inches deep. From the circumstance mentioned of some of his crew having perished with cold, it is probable that they were natives of India, whom the Portuguese were in the habit of bringing home as part of their crew.
Previous to the writing of this letter, the following copy of verses shows how anxiously this young lady's mind was engaged on the unhappy circumstances under which her brother was placed.
On the tedious and mournful Absence of a most
beloved BROTHER, who was in the Bounty with
Captain BLIGH at the Time of the FATAL MUTINY,
which happened April 28th, 1789, in the South Seas,
and who, instead of returning with the Boat when
she left the Ship, stayed behind.
Tell me, thou busy flatt'ring Telltale, why—
Why flow these tears—why heaves this deep-felt sigh,—
Why is all joy from my sad bosom flown,
Why lost that cheerfulness I thought my own;
Why seek I now in solitude for ease.
Which once was centred in a wish to please,
When ev'ry hour in joy and gladness past,
And each new day shone brighter than the last;
When in society I loved to join;
When to enjoy, and give delight, was mine?—
Now—sad reverse! in sorrow wakes each day,
And griefs sad tones inspire each plaintive lay:
Alas! too plain these mournful tears can tell
The pangs of woe my lab'ring bosom swell!
Thou best of brothers—friend, companion, guide,
Joy of my youth, my honour, and my pride!
Lost is all peace—all happiness to me,
And fled all comfort, since deprived of thee.
In vain, my Lycidas, thy loss I mourn,
In vain indulge a hope of thy return;
Still years roll on and still I vainly sigh,
Still tears of anguish drown each gushing eye.
Ah I cruel Time I how slow thy ling'ring pace,
Which keeps me from his tender, loved embrace.
At home to see him, or to know him near,
How much I wish—and yet how much I fear!
Oh I fatal voyage! which robb'd my soul of peace
And wreck'd my happiness in stormy seas!
Why, my loved Lycidas, why did'st thou stay,
Why waste thy life from friendship far away?
Though guiltless thou of mutiny or blame,
And free from aught which could disgrace thy name;
Though thy pure soul, in honour's footsteps train'd,
Was never yet by disobedience stain'd;
Yet is thy fame exposed to slander's wound,
And fell suspicion whispering around.
In vain—to those who knew thy worth and truth,
Who watch'd each op'ning virtue of thy youth;
When noblest principles inform'd thy mind,
Where sense and sensibility were join'd;
Love to inspire, to charm, to win each heart,
And ev'ry tender sentiment impart;
Thy outward form adorn'd with ev'ry grace;
With beauty's softest charms thy heav'nly face,
Where sweet expression beaming ever proved
The index of that soul, by all beloved;
Thy wit so keen, thy genius form'd to soar,
By fancy wing'd, new science to explore;
Thy temper, ever gentle, good, and kind,
Where all but guilt an advocate could find:
To those who know this character was thine,
(And in this truth assenting numbers join)
How vain th' attempt to fix a crime on thee,
Which thou disdain'st—from which each thought is free!
No, my loved brother, ne'er will I believe
Thy seeming worth was meant but to deceive;
Still will I think (each circumstance though strange)
That thy firm principles could never change;
That hopes of preservation urged thy stay,
Or force, which those resistless must obey.
If this is error, let me still remain
In error wrapp'd—nor wake to truth again!
Come then, sweet Hope, with all thy train of joy
Nor let Despair each rapt'rous thought destroy;
Indulgent Heav'n, in pity to our tears,
At length will bless a parent's sinking years;
Again shall I behold thy lovely face,
By manhood form'd, and ripen'd ev'ry grace,
Again I'll press thee to my anxious breast,
And ev'ry sorrow shall be hush'd to rest.
Thy presence only can each comfort give.
Come then, my Lycidas, and let me live;
life without thee is but a wretched load,
Thy love alone can smooth its thorny road;
But blest with thee, how light were every woe;
How would my soul with joy and rapture glow I
Kind Heav'n! thou hast my happiness in store,
Restore him innocent—I ask no more!
Isle of Man, Feb. 25, 1792. NESSY HEYWOOD.
This interesting letter is given in the following Chapter, to which it appropriately belongs.
His orders run thus: 'You are to keep the mutineers as closely confined as may preclude all possibility of their escaping, having, however, proper regard to the preservation of their lives, that they may be brought home, to undergo the punishment due to their demerits.'
Voyage round the World, by Mr. George Hamilton, p. 84.
A Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific, p. 360.
United Service Journal.
The Phoceans, on account of the sterility of their country, were in the habit of practising piracy, which, according to Justin, was held to be an honourable profession.
These laws are contained in an ancient authentic book, called 'The Black Book of the Admiralty,' in which all things therein comprehended are engrossed on vellum, in an ancient character; which hath been from time to time kept in the registry of the High Court of Admiralty, for the use of the Judges. When Mr. Luders made enquiry at the office in Doctors' Commons, in 1808, he was informed by the proper officers there, that they had never seen such book, and knew nothing of it, nor where to find it. The fact is, the book in question was put into Lord Thurlow's hands when Attorney-General, and never returned. There is a copy of it in the Admiralty.
Morrison mentions, in his Journal, a plan to this effect, contrived by Heywood, Stewart, and himself, but observes, 'it was a foolish attempt, as, had we met with bad weather, our crazy boat would certainly have made us a coffin.'
The following shows how much her fond mind was fixed on her unfortunate brother:—
On the Arrival of my dearly-beloved Brother, Peter Heywood,
in England, written while a Prisoner, and waiting
the Event of his Trial on board his Majesty's Ship
'Hector.'
Come, gentle Muse, I woo thee once again,
Nor woo thee now in melancholy strain;
Assist my verse in cheerful mood to flow,
Nor let this tender bosom Anguish know;
Fill all my soul with notes of Love and Joy,
No more let Grief each anxious thought employ:
With Rapture now alone this heart shall burn,
And Joy, my Lycidas, for thy return!
Return'd with every charm, accomplish'd youth,
Adorn'd with Virtue, Innocence, and Truth;
Wrapp'd in thy conscious merit still remain,
Till I behold thy lovely form again.
Protect him, Heav'n, from dangers and alarms,
And oh! restore him to a sister's arms;
Support his fortitude in that dread hour
When he must brave Suspicion's cruel pow'r;
Grant him to plead with Eloquence divine,
In ev'ry word let Truth and Honour shine;
Through each sweet accent let Persuasion flow,
With manly Firmness let his bosom glow,
Till strong Conviction, in each face exprest,
Grants a reward by Honour's self confest.
Let thy Omnipotence preserve him still,
And all his future days with Pleasure fill;
And oh! kind Heav'n, though now in chains he be,
Restore him soon to Friendship, Love, and me.
August 5th, 1792, Isle of Man. NESSY HEYWOOD.
The late Aaron Graham, Esq., the highly respected police magistrate in London.
Till the moment of the trial, it will readily be supposed that every thought of this amiable young lady was absorbed in her brother's fate. In this interval the following lines appear to have been written:—
On receiving information by a letter from my ever dearly
loved brother Peter Heywood, that his trial was soon to
take place.
Oh! gentle Hope! with eye serene,
And aspect, ever sweetly mild;
Who deck'st with gayest flow'rs each scene,
In sportive, rich luxuriance wild,
Thou—soother of corroding care,
When sharp affliction's pangs we feel,
Teachest with fortitude to bear,
And know'st deep sorrow's wounds to heal.
Thy timid vot'ry now inspire,
Thy influence, in pity, lend;
With confidence this bosom fire,
Till anxious, dread suspense shall end.
Let not fear invade my breast,
My Lycidas no terror knows;
With conscious innocence he's blest,
And soon will triumph o'er his foes.
Watch him, sweet Pow'r, with looks benign,
Possession of his bosom keep;
While waking, make each moment shine,
With fancy gild his hours of sleep.
Protect him still, nor let him dread
The awful, the approaching hour,
When on his poor devoted head
Fell slander falls with cruel power.
Yet, gentle Hope, deceive me not,
Nor with deluding smiles betray;
Be honour's recompense his lot,
And glory crown each future day!
And oh! support this fainting heart
With courage, till that hour is past,
When, freed from envy's fatal dart,
His innocence shines forth at last:
Then, my loved Lycidas, we'll meet,
Thy miseries and trials o'er;
With soft delight thy heart shall beat,
And hail with joy thy native shore!
Then will each hour with rapture fly,
Then sorrow's plaintive voice will cease;
No care shall cause the heaving sigh,
But all our days be crown'd with peace.
With love and fond affection blest,
No more shall grief our bliss destroy;
No pain disturb each faithful breast,
But rapture all and endless joy!
Isle of Man, August 22, 1792. NESSY HEYWOOD.
The minutes being very long, a brief abstract only, containing the principal points of evidence, is here given.
This Journal, it is presumed, must have been lost when the Pandora was wrecked.
It was in this state of mind, while in momentary expectation of receiving an account of the termination of the court-martial, that Heywood's charming sister Nessy wrote the following lines:—
ANXIETY.
Doubting, dreading, fretful guest,
Quit, oh I quit this mortal breast.
Why wilt thou my peace invade,
And each brighter prospect shade?
Pain me not with needless Fear,
But let Hope my bosom cheer;
While I court her gentle charms,
Woo the flatterer to my arms;
While each moment she beguiles
With her sweet enliv'ning smiles,
While she softly whispers me,
'Lycidas again is free,'
While I gaze on Pleasure's gleam,
Say not thou 'Tis all a dream.'
Hence—nor darken Joy's soft bloom
With thy pale and sickly gloom:
Nought have I to do with thee—
Hence—begone—Anxiety.
Isle of Man, September 10th. NESSY HEYWOOD.
This is supposed to allude to the evidence given by Hallet.
This refers to a very kind and encouraging letter written to him by the Rev. Dr. Scott, of the Isle of Man, who knew him from a boy, and had the highest opinion of his character.
Captain Bligh states in his journal, that none of his officers were suffered to come near him while held a prisoner by Christian; and Hallet was, no doubt, mistaken, but he had probably said it in the boat, and thought it right to be consistent on the trial.
It has been said that Hallet, when in the Penelope, in which frigate he died, expressed great regret at the evidence he had given at the court-martial, and frequently alluded to it, admitting that he might have been mistaken. There can be very little doubt that he was so. But the Editor has ascertained, from personal inquiry of one of the most distinguished flag-officers in the service, who was then first lieutenant of the Penelope, that Hallet frequently expressed to him his deep contrition for having given in evidence what, on subsequent reflection, he was convinced to be incorrect; that he ascribed it to the state of confusion in which his mind was when under examination before the Court; and that he had since satisfied himself that, owing to the general alarm and confusion during the mutiny, he must have confounded Heywood with some other person.
Vol. ii. p. 778.
Some few captains were in the habit of turning over a delinquent to be tried by their messmates, and when found guilty, it invariably happened that the punishment inflicted was doubly severe to what it would have been in the ordinary way. This practice,—which, as giving a deliberative voice to the ship's company, was highly reprehensible,—it is to be hoped has entirely ceased.
Information that the pardon was gone down to Portsmouth.
She had received, previous to this, information of what the event would be, and thus gives vent to her feelings.
On receiving certain Intelligence that my most amiable and beloved Brother, Peter Heywood, would soon be restored to Freedom.
Oh, blissful hour!—oh moment of delight!
Replete with happiness, with rapture bright!
An age of pain is sure repaid by this,
'Tis joy too great—'tis ecstasy of bliss!
Ye sweet sensations crowding on my soul,
Which following each other swiftly roll,—
Ye dear ideas which unceasing press,
And pain this bosom by your wild excess,
Ah! kindly cease—for pity's sake subside,
Nor thus o'erwhelm me with joy's rapid tide:
My beating heart, oppress'd with woe and care,
Has yet to learn such happiness to bear:
From grief, distracting grief, thus high to soar,
To know dull pain and misery no more,
To hail each op'ning morn with new delight,
To rest in peace and joy each happy night,
To see my Lycidas from bondage free,
Restored to life, to pleasure, and to me,
To see him thus—adorn'd with virtue's charms,
To give him to a longing mother's arms,
To know him by surrounding friends caress'd,
Of honour, fame, of life's best gifts possess'd,
Oh, my full heart! 'tis joy—'tis bliss supreme,
And though 'tis real—yet, how like a dream!
Teach me then, Heav'n, to bear it as I ought,
Inspire each rapt'rous, each transporting thought;
Teach me to bend beneath Thy bounteous hand,
With gratitude my willing heart expand:
To Thy omnipotence I humbly bow,
Afflicted once—but ah! how happy now!
Restored in peace, submissive to Thy will,
Oh! bless his days to come—protect him still;
Prolong his life, Thy goodness to adore,
And oh! let sorrow's shafts ne'er wound him more.
NESSY HEYWOOD.
London, October 15th, 1792, Midnight.
Mr. Graham's daughter.
Several elegiac stanzas were written on the death of this accomplished young lady. The following are dated from her native place, the Isle of Man, where her virtues and accomplishments could best be appreciated.
How soon, sweet maid! how like a fleeting dream
The winning graces, all thy virtues seem!
How soon arrested in thy early bloom
Has fate decreed thee to the joyless tomb!
Nor beauty, genius, nor the Muse's care,
Nor aught could move the tyrant Death to spare:
Ah! could their power revoke the stern decree,
The fatal shaft had past, unfelt by thee!
But vain thy wit, thy sentiment refined,
Thy charms external, and accomplish'd mind;
Thy artless smiles, that seized the willing heart,
Thy converse, that could pure delight impart;
The melting music of thy skilful tongue,
While judgement listen'd, ravish'd with thy song:
Not all the gifts that art and nature gave,
Could save thee, lovely Nessy! from the grave.
Too early lost! from friendship's bosom torn,
Oh might I tune thy lyre, and sweetly mourn
In strains like thine, when beauteous Margaret's fate
Oppress'd thy friendly heart with sorrow's weight;
Then should my numbers flow, and laurels bloom
In endless spring around fair Nessy's tomb.
[Alluding to some elegant lines, by the deceased, on the death of a female friend.]
The following appears to have been written by Mr. P. Heywood on the day that the sentence of condemnation was passed on him.
----Silence then
The whispers of complaint,—low in the dust
Dissatisfaction's dæmon's growl unheard.
All—all is good, all excellent below;
Pain is a blessing—sorrow leads to joy—
Joy, permanent and solid! ev'ry ill,
Grim death itself, in all its horrors clad,
Is man's supremest privilege! it frees
The soul from prison, from foul sin, from woe,
And gives it back to glory, rest, and God!
Cheerly, my friends,—oh, cheerly! look not thus
With Pity's melting softness!—that alone
Can shake my fortitude—-all is not lost.
Lo! I have gain'd on this important day
A victory consummate o'er myself,
And o'er this life a victory,—on this day.
My birthday to eternity, I've gain'd
Dismission from a world, where for a while,
Like you, like all, a pilgrim, passing poor,
A traveller, a stranger, I have met
Still stranger treatment, rude and harsh I so much
The dearer, more desired, the home I seek,
Eternal of my Father, and my God I
Then pious Resignation, meek-ey'd pow'r,
Sustain me still! Composure still be mine.
Where rests it? Oh, mysterious Providence I
Silence the wild idea.—I have found
No mercy yet—no mild humanity,
With cruel, unrelenting rigour torn,
And lost in prison—lost to all below!
And the following appears to have been written on the day of the king's pardon being received.
—Oh deem it not
Presumptuous, that my soul grateful thus rates
The present high deliv'rance it hath found;—
Sole effort of Thy wisdom, sov'reign Pow'r,
Without whose knowledge, not a sparrow fells!
Oh I may I cease to live, ere cease to bless
That interposing hand, which turn'd aside—
Nay, to my life and preservation turn'd,—
The fatal blow precipitate, ordain'd
To level all my little hopes in dust,
And give me—to the grave.
With which the Editor, at his request, was favoured at the time.
The only authority that then existed for laying down this island was that of Captain Carteret, who first saw it in 1767. 'It is so high,' he says, 'that we saw it at the distance of more than fifteen leagues, and it having been discovered by a young gentleman, son to Major Pitcairn of the marines, who was unfortunately lost in the Aurora, we called it Pitcairn's Island.' He makes it in lat. 25° 2' S. and long. 133° 30' W., no less than three degrees out of its true longitude! Three minutes would now be thought a considerable error:—such are the superior advantages conferred by lunar observations and improvements in chronometers.
Pitcairn's Island has been supposed to be the 'Encarnaçion of Quiros, by whom it is stated to be in lat. 24° 30', and one thousand leagues from the coast of Peru; but as he describes it as 'a low, sandy island, almost level with the sea, having a few trees on it,' we must look for 'Encarnaçion' somewhere else; and Ducies Island, nearly in that latitude, very low, and within 5° of longitude from Pitcairn's Island, answers precisely to it.
As the manner of Christian's death has been differently reported to each different visitor, by Adams, the only evidence in existence, with the exception of three or four Otaheitan women, and a few infants, some singular circumstances may here be mentioned that happened at home, just at the time of Folder's visit, and which might render his death on Pitcairn's Island almost a matter of doubt.
About the years 1808 and 1809, a very general opinion was prevalent in the neighbourhood of the lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland, that Christian was in that part of the country, and made frequent private visits to an aunt who was living there. Being the near relative of Mr. Christian Curwen, long member of Parliament for Carlisle, and himself a native, he was well known in the neighbourhood. This, however, might be passed over as mere gossip, had not another circumstance happened just about the same time, for the truth of which the Editor does not hesitate to avouch.
In Fore Street, Plymouth Dock, Captain Heywood found himself one day walking behind a man, whose shape had so much the appearance of Christian's, that he involuntarily quickened his pace. Both were walking very fast, and the rapid steps behind him having roused the stranger's attention, he suddenly turned his face, looked at Heywood, and immediately ran off. But the face was as much like Christian's as the back, and Heywood, exceedingly excited, ran also. Both ran as fast as they were able, but the stranger had the advantage, and, after making several short turns, disappeared.
That Christian should be in England, Heywood considered as highly improbable, though not out of the scope of possibility; for at this time no account of him whatsoever had been received since they parted at Otaheite; at any rate the resemblance, the agitation, and the efforts of the stranger to elude him, were circumstances too strong not to make a deep impression on his mind. At the moment, his first thought was to set about making some further inquiries, but on recollection of the pain and trouble such a discovery must occasion him, he considered it more prudent to let the matter drop; but the circumstance was frequently called to his memory for the remainder of his life.
This Nobbs is probably one of those half-witted persons who fancy they have received a call to preach nonsense—some cobbler escaped from his stall, or tailor from his shopboard. Kitty Quintal's cant phrase—'we want food for our souls,' and praying at meals for 'spiritual nourishment,' smack not a little of the jargon of the inferior caste of evangelicals. Whoever this pastoral drone may be, it is but too evident that the preservation of the innocence, simplicity, and happiness of these amiable people, is intimately connected with his speedy removal from the island.
Well may Adams have sought for rules for his little society in a book, which contains the foundation of the civil and religious policy of two-thirds of the human race,—in that wonderful book, into whose inspired pages the afflicted never seek for consolation in vain. Millions of examples attest this truth. 'There is no incident in Robinson Crusoe,' observes a writer in a critical journal, 'told in language more natural and affecting, than Robert Knox's accidental discovery of a Bible, in the midst of the Candian dominions of Ceylon. His previous despondency from the death of his father, his only friend and companion, whose grave he had but just dug with his own hands, "being now," as he says, "left desolate, sick, and in captivity,"—his agitation, joy, and even terror, on meeting with a book he had for such a length of time not seen, nor hoped to see—his anxiety lest he should fail to procure it—and the comfort, when procured, which it afforded him in his affliction—all are told in Buch a strain of true piety and genuine simplicity as cannot fail to interest and affect every reader of sensibility.'
If there were three instruments and three boats, there must have been one for each, for the quadrant was just as good as a sextant.—ED.
The mistake is here again repeated; it would be absurd to suppose that one boat had both quadrant and sextant.
It is not explained with what kind of fuel they performed this distressing operation.
Here, again, is another mistake; the number must have been eleven at most, one of the boats having parted before the others reached the island.—ED.