When the cruel banishment had been effected, the men who before had yielded unquestioning obedience to Hill’s orders, began to awake to the fact that they had been participating in a wholesale course of injustice and oppression. Their true friends had received ill usage at their hands, even unto banishment, while they had submitted to be ruled by a tyrant. Shame and remorse for the part they had taken, filled their minds, and they only waited the opportunity to have the exiles recalled.
It soon came. The captain of a schooner, the Olivia, making a call at the island at the time, was told all the facts of the case, and he very generously promised to go to the Gambier Islands and remove the two families of Nobbs and Evans to their home. This was accordingly done, and once more all were again on Pitcairn Island, as Buffett and his family had arrived from Tahiti a short time before on the Olive Branch. While these last seemed to have gained in health during their sojourn at Tahiti, the two families who stayed at the Gambier Islands were extremely emaciated, owing to the poor food on which they were obliged to subsist. Their relatives and friends greeted them on their home coming with open arms, while expressions of affection and tears of joy, that spoke more than words, told how glad they were that all of them were permitted to meet again.
On the return of the exiled men, they found the island in an unsettled state. Divisions were rife among the people. Hill no longer exercised undisputed sway over their minds and actions. His power, once so great, was now quite broken. At this time there occurred a quarrel between Hill and one of his former elders, which narrowly escaped proving a very serious affair. The trouble arose in this way: A young girl, daughter of the ex-elder, had been charged with stealing some yams, and was proved guilty. The father was summoned before Hill, to hear what his daughter’s sentence would be. Hill declared that the offender ought to be executed, or, at least, be made to suffer very severely for her fault. The father strongly opposed such harsh measures, and positively asserted that his daughter should not be subjected to the will of the merciless man. Aroused to fury by this opposition to his will, which the father steadily maintained, Hill rushed into his bedroom, and, grasping his sword, returned, and, waving it threateningly at his opponent, cried out, “Confess your sins, for you are a dead man.” This he repeated with, if possible, increased fury, while his threatened victim, as he afterward declared, felt that his last hour had indeed come. A table stood between them, and young Quintall, although intimidated by the murderous fire that gleamed in Hill’s eye, as well as by the sword that he was brandishing, quickly cleared the table at a bound, and, before Hill could divine his intention, laid a firm grip on the shoulders of his enemy, and by main force threw him upon the floor. Unable to do anything else but maintain his hold on his fallen foe, he was powerless to prevent the thrusts of Hill’s sword. Fortunately, they resulted in a few slight scratches only, which were sufficiently deep, however, to leave lifelong scars on the breast of the intended victim. How long the struggle would have lasted had the combatants been left alone, it is not possible to say. A young man happened to pass by the house, and, catching a glimpse of what was passing within, took in the whole situation at once. Running as quickly as he could to his house, he soon returned armed with a musket, and called out that he was going to shoot Hill. Others, hearing the shout, came running together to learn what the cause of the disturbance was. Arriving at the scene of the quarrel, their first act was to dispossess Hill of his sword. He was then allowed to rise and retire peaceably to his room. Nothing further was done to him, but he did not receive his sword back again until the day when, friendless and unloved, he left the island forever.
Letters of complaint from the persecuted Buffett, Evans, and Nobbs had, in the meantime, been sent on to Valparaiso, asking redress from those who might and could render help and deliverance from Hill’s power. In answer to their earnest appeal, the Actæon was sent to the island in 1836. She was commanded by Lord Edward Russell. His lordship, shortly after arriving, called a meeting, over which he himself presided. Permission was given to all concerned to speak their minds freely, a privilege of which each one readily availed himself. A warm and lively debate ensued, and while Hill was speaking in his own defense, one unruly member of the meeting would every now and again interrupt him with, “It’s a lie, my lord,” addressed to Lord Russell.
The proceedings of the court provoked much laughter, and all was greatly enjoyed by his lordship. One circumstance especially called forth peals of laughter. Hill was relating a story about a book that belonged to Hannah Young. Opposite to the motto “Dieu et mon droit,” on the title-page, were written the following lines:—
“God and my right we often see
Emblazoned abroad;
Let them who read this motto be
With Jesus, right with God.”