Mutiny of the Bounty and story of Pitcairn Island, 1790-1894

by Rosalind Amelia Young

IN the course of our narrative we now return to the two families on Pitcairn. Their first night on shore was passed in one of the old houses which was so thickly covered with a growth of the wild bean that all felt sure it would afford the best protection against rain, if rain should fall. But they were soon convinced of their mistake when, during the night, a pouring rain roused them from their slumbers by coming in upon them through the frail covering of the vines. Early the next day they removed to another house, which afforded better accommodations, and where they stayed until their own cottages were repaired. They had but just finished the work of arranging their new abode to the best advantage when some of the young girls sallied forth, accompanied by one of their mothers, to have a look around the forsaken place. When only a short distance from the house, they espied, coming towards them through the bush-grown path, two men, who had just come ashore from a ship, unknown to any of the party on the island. At sight of the strangers, one of whom was carrying a gun, the other being a colored man, the woman and girls screamed and fled, one of the girls in her terror dropping several feet from the boughs of an orange tree up which she had climbed.

Impelled by a haunting dread that something awful was about to happen, they ran in breathless haste toward the house where the other woman and children were. Their frightened looks told plainly enough that something unusual had occurred, and, crowded close together, the story of what they had seen was repeated. But they congratulated themselves on the fact that their retreat would not be easily discovered, as the path was well nigh hidden from view by the thick growth of weeds and bushes. Worst of all, their natural protectors were all absent from home at the time. Their terror could be better imagined than described when, a few minutes having passed, the black man’s face appeared through an opening in the trees, and immediately behind him was his white companion. The lot of timid women and children could scarce refrain from shrieking aloud, but the colored man assured them, with a pleasant smile, that there was nothing to fear, and that the gun was brought on shore for other game than themselves. It did not take long to quiet their fears, when they discovered that the black man was really a pleasant-spoken, kindly person; but the other man held aloof, and scarcely had a word to say. They both gladly accepted food from the hands of the women, who also gave them permission to take all the fruit that they wished.

The visitors informed them that they had just come ashore from a whaler, the William Wirt, and had brought their ammunition with them for the purpose of obtaining game. Another whale ship came in on the same day, and their respective crews carried back to their ships a large supply of animal food, which they had taken in hunting, viz., goats, fowls, and fish, as all were so easily obtained on account of their great numbers.

The search for hens’ eggs gave much pleasant occupation to the young people, as the island was nearly overrun by the immense increase of fowls; nor were the older folk less active in going out on an egg hunt than the children. Life for them seemed one continuous round of present enjoyment. There was scarcely any need for work, as the island produced in lavish abundance more than sufficient, both of animal and vegetable food, for their every want—goats, sheep, fowls, and plenty of fish, which had become tame through having been left so long in their undisturbed freedom. One obstacle in the way of the young people’s pleasures was the presence of the few cattle on the island, the mere sight of which was enough to make them run for refuge to the nearest tree, if not within easy distance of their homes. As the island is too small to allow the increase of cattle upon it, it was thought best to extirpate them; and, most unwisely, the doomed cattle were in time all destroyed.

BREADFRUIT.

During those years the productiveness of the island was remarkable. The breadfruit, yams, potatoes, taro, as well as the delicious fruits that grew on the island, seemed untouched by the curse. It did not seem possible that in a few years a change so complete could take place as to affect almost the entire productions of the island. But so it was. Being abundantly provided with food supplies, with scarcely an effort of their own, the two families had not much to do. The making of tappa, however, gave employment to all during three or four months of the year, and heavy work it was too, with all the various processes through which it passed. A description of the work may be given here.

First, the plants must be cut down and divested of their bark. Each bark is then peeled and the inner portion beaten out until it becomes soft, and the fibers separate. Washing is the next thing, and this is repeated until every trace of the abundant sap is removed. By this time the substance has widened to five times its natural width, and has a beautiful lace-like appearance. It is then wrapped up in the large leaves of the appi (arum gigantum), sufficient being inclosed in the wrap to make a sheet. Being allowed to remain for a few days, it becomes soft and almost pulpy. Then it is ready to lay out in strips of the required length, one bark being laid over another until the proper thickness is obtained. The whole is then beaten out, two persons being required to do this, as they stand on the opposite sides of a large, long, and smoothly planed log, called a “dood-a,” and with their heavy beaters keeping time with the utmost exactness. The work is noisy and tiresome. When each sheet is finished, it is hardened by spreading out daily in the sun. This is continued until the paper-like fabric can bear washing. To render it tough it is dyed, the dye being obtained by steeping the red inner bark of the doodooee (candlenut tree) in water. When dry the dye has a reddish brown color, which is very pretty when fresh.

Most of this disagreeable work was performed by the two mothers of the families, as they could not trust the delicate work of handling the easily injured sheets to the inexperienced hands of the young girls. These, from the age of eight to thirteen, grew up in almost entire ignorance of the art of sewing, and this for the good reason that they had nothing to learn with. Thread was too precious to waste in teaching the children to sew, and should the few needles break or be lost, there was no prospect of replacing them; besides, every bit of calico which might be used for the purpose of learning to sew was carefully hoarded as a future patch for the garment, which only too readily became threadbare. Usually a slit in the sleeve or side of a frock or petticoat was drawn together by means of a string which the fibrous bark of the boo-ron tree supplied. But these girls enjoyed their wild, free life notwithstanding, and were happy in the possession of perfect health, plenty to eat and drink, and their garments, if poor, and even ragged, were kept as clean as the nature of their duties allowed, while in their persons they were particularly clean.