H.M.S. “BRITON,” AT PITCAIRN ISLAND.
When Christian had arrived at the island, he found no good anchorage, so he ran the Bounty into a small creek against the cliff, in order to get out of her such articles as might be of use. Having stripped her, he set fire to the hull, so that afterwards she should not be seen by passing vessels, and his retreat discovered. It is pretty clear that the misguided young man was never happy after the rash and mutinous step he had taken, and he became sullen, morose, and tyrannical to his companions. He was at length shot by an Otaheitan, and in a short time only two of the mutineers were left alive.
PITCAIRN ISLAND.
The colony at this time comprised forty-six persons, mostly grown-up young people, all of prepossessing appearance. John Adams had made up for any share he may have had in the revolt, by instructing them in religious and moral principles. The girls were modest and bashful, with bright eyes, beautifully white teeth, and every indication of health. They carried baskets of fruit over such roads and down such precipices as were scarcely passable by any creatures except goats, and over which we could scarcely scramble with the help of our hands. When Captain Beechey, in his well-known voyage of discovery on the Blossom, called there in 1825, he found Adams, then in his sixty-fifth year, dressed in a sailor’s shirt and trousers, and with all a sailor’s manners, doffing his hat and smoothing down his bald forehead whenever he was addressed by the officers of the Blossom. Many circumstances connected with the subsequent history of the happy little colony cannot be detailed here. Suffice it to say that it still thrives, and is one of the most model settlements of the whole world, although descended from a stock so bad. Of the nine who landed on Pitcairn’s Island only two died a natural death. Of the original officers and crew of the Bounty more than half perished in various untimely ways, the whole burden of guilt resting on Christian and his fellow-conspirators.
The mutiny just described sinks into insignificance before that which is about to be recounted, the greatest mutiny of English history—that of the Nore. At that one point no less than 40,000 men were concerned, while the disaffection spread to many other stations, some of them far abroad. There can be little doubt that prior to 1797, the year of the event, our sailors had laboured under many grievances, while the navy was full of “pressed” men, a portion of whom were sure to retain a thorough dislike to the service, although so many fought and died bravely for their country. Some of the grievances which the navy suffered were probably the result of careless and negligent legislation, rather than of deliberate injustice, but they were none the less galling on that account. The pay of the sailor had remained unchanged from the reign of Charles II., although the prices of the necessaries and common luxuries of life had greatly risen. His pension had also remained at a stationary rate; that of the soldier had been augmented. On the score of provisions he was worse off than an ordinary pauper. He was in the hands of the purser, whose usual title at that time indicates his unpopularity: he was termed “Nipcheese.” The provisions served were of the worst quality; fourteen instead of sixteen ounces went [pg 250]to the navy pound. The purser of those days was taken from an inferior class of men, and often obtained his position by influence, rather than merit. He generally retired on a competency after a life of deliberate dishonesty towards the defenders of his country, who, had they received everything to which they were entitled, would not have been too well treated, and, as it was, were cheated and robbed, without scruple and without limit. The reader will recall the many naval novels, in which poor Jack’s daily allowance of grog was curtailed by the purveyor’s thumb being put in the pannikin: this was the least of the evils he suffered. In those war times the discipline of the service was specially rigid and severe, and most of this was doubtless necessary. Men were not readily obtained in sufficient numbers; consequently, when in harbour, leave ashore was very constantly refused, for fear of desertions. These and a variety of other grievances, real or fancied, nearly upset the equilibrium of our entire navy. It is not too much to say that not merely England’s naval supremacy was for a time in the greatest jeopardy through the disaffection of the men, but that our national existence, almost—and most certainly our existence as a first-class power—was alarmingly threatened, the cause being nothing more nor less than a very general spirit of mutiny. To do the sailors justice, they sought at first to obtain fair play by all legitimate means in their power. It must be noted, also, that a large number of our best officers knew that there was very general discontent. Furthermore, it was well known on shore that numerous secret societies opposed to monarchy, and incited by the example of the French Revolution, had been established. Here, again, the Government had made a fatal mistake. Members of these societies had been convicted in numbers, and sent to sea as a punishment. These men almost naturally became ringleaders and partakers in the mutiny, which would, however, have occurred sooner or later, under any circumstances. In the case of the mutiny at Spithead, about to be recounted, the sailors exhibited an organisation and an amount of information which might have been expected from “sea-lawyers” rather than ordinary Jack Tars; while in the more serious rebellion of the Nore, the co-operation of other agents was established beyond doubt.
The first step taken by the men was perfectly legitimate, and had it been met in a proper spirit by the authorities, this history need never have been penned. At the end of February, 1797, the crews of four line-of-battle ships at Spithead addressed separate petitions to Lord Howe, Commander-in-Chief of the Channel Fleet, asking his kind interposition with the Admiralty, to obtain from them a relief of their grievances, so that they might at length be put on a similar footing to the army and militia, in respect both of their pay and of the provision they might be enabled to make for their wives and families. Lord Howe, being then in bad health, communicated the subject of their petitions to Lord Bridport and Sir Peter Parker, the port admiral, who, with a want of foresight and disregard of their country’s interest which cannot be excused, returned answer that “the petitions were the work of some evil-disposed person or persons,” and took no trouble to investigate the allegations contained in them. Lord Howe, therefore, did nothing; and the seamen, finding their applications for redress not only disregarded, but treated with contempt, determined to compel the authorities to give them that relief which they had before submissively asked.
In about six weeks they organised their plans with such secrecy that it was not till [pg 251]everything was arranged on a working basis that the first admiral, Lord Bridport, gained any knowledge of the conspiracy going on around him. He communicated his suspicions to the Lords of the Admiralty; and they, thinking a little active service would prove the best cure for what they simply regarded as a momentary agitation, sent down orders for the Channel Fleet to put to sea. The orders arrived at Portsmouth on April 15th, and in obedience to them Lord Bridport signalled to the fleet to make the necessary preparations. As might almost have been expected, it was the signal, likewise, for the outbreak of the mutiny. Not a sailor bestirred himself; not a rope was bent; but, as if by common consent, the crews of every vessel in the squadron manned the yards and rigging, and gave three cheers. They then proceeded to take the command of each ship from the officers, and appointed delegates from each vessel to conduct negotiations with the authorities of the Admiralty. No violence nor force was used. The first-lieutenant of the London, ordered by Admiral Colpoys, one of the best-hated officers of the service, shot one of the mutineers, but his death was not avenged. They again forwarded their petition to the Admiralty, and its closing sentences showed their temperance, and argued strongly in favour of their cause. They desired “to convince the nation at large that they knew where to cease to ask, as well as where to begin; and that they asked nothing but what was moderate, and might be granted without detriment to the nation or injury to the service.” The Admiralty authorities, seeing that with the great power in their hands they had acted peaceably, only abstaining from work, yielded all the concessions asked; and a full pardon was granted in the king’s name to the fleet in general, and to the ringleaders in particular. In a word, the mutiny ended for the time being.
