Transcriber’s Notes

Hyphenation has been standardised.

Changes made are noted at the [end of the book.]

Footnote anchors are denoted by [number] instead of the letter A which was used throughout the book.

The hand-drawn chapter header illustrations have been replicated as shown in the original.

PITCAIRN ISLAND.

Mutiny of the Bounty
and
Story of Pitcairn Island
1790-1894

By

Rosalind Amelia Young

A Native Daughter

Seventh Printing

PUBLISHED BY

PACIFIC PRESS PUBLISHING ASSN.

MOUNTAIN VIEW, CAL.

Kansas City, Mo.——Calgary, Alberta——Portland, Ore.

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1894, by

Pacific Press Publishing Co.

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

TO

CLARA FREEMAN CROCKER,

OF AMERICA,

LAURA P. WHITE,

OF ENGLAND,

And to the many dear friends who have ever shown an interest in the history of Pitcairn Island, this little work is

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

by the Author.

INTRODUCTION.

Many books have been written on the history of Pitcairn Island, while magazine articles and newspaper sketches almost without number have appeared from time to time, treating on some feature of the island or its history. While there are some points of disagreement between the different writers, they have in the main given a fairly good history of the island, and of its condition many years ago, though some of their statements have been somewhat exaggerated. That it is inevitable that some errors should creep into such histories may be clearly seen from the fact that very few of the writers have ever visited the island, while those who have done so, remained but a short time, and so could see but one side of life on that isolated spot.

The present work is written by a native of the island, and one who has practically spent her whole life on the island, a few years of her childhood only having been spent on Norfolk Island. While her lifetime does not cover quite one-half of the time covered by the history of the island, she had access for many years to one at least who remembered events that occurred before the beginning of the present century. The author’s father was the second oldest man of the community at the time of his death, in September, 1893, and was a grandson of John Adams, one of the mutineers of the Bounty, whose death took place in 1829. She has thus had the best of advantages for obtaining a correct knowledge of the island history.

The writer of this introduction spent over eighteen months on the island, leaving there February 9 of the present year, and, as far as his observation goes, believes that the statements contained in this book are strictly reliable.

The island, though but a dot on the broad Pacific, being but two and one-quarter miles long by one and a half miles wide, is an interesting spot, and its history reads like a romance. Its location is a favorable one, being about two degrees south of the tropic of Capricorn, for which reason the weather is never so intensely hot as in some of the islands of the south seas, and is never cold. Beautiful tropical trees,—the tall, graceful cocoanut palm, the wide-spreading banyan, the pandanus palm, and others,—cover its surface from end to end. Refreshing breezes, cooled and moistened by passing over thousands of miles of ocean, constantly fan the surface of this lovely isle. It can be truthfully said of this island that

“Every prospect pleases.”

The people who inhabit this little Eden are half castes, their dark features and black hair plainly betraying their Tahitian blood, though some of them have quite light complexion and blue eyes. At present there are but about one hundred and thirty of the inhabitants. The kindness and hospitality of this interesting people have been remarked by all who have ever called at the island.

We believe this little book will be read with profit and delight by all who are so fortunate as to secure a copy.

E. H. GATES.

St. Helena, Cal., July 30, 1894.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

CHAPTER I.

The Bounty and the Mutineers

TOWARD the close of the eighteenth century, at a time when events producing the most important results were occurring among some of the nations of the earth, there was being laid, unconsciously, the foundation of a history which in all its points could equal, if not surpass, any tale of fiction.

During the reign of King George Third, of England, the English Government considered it advisable to introduce, if possible, the breadfruit into her colonies in the West Indies, and for this purpose a ship was specially fitted out and provisioned. A small sloop-of-war, named the Bounty, was the one provided, and her internal arrangements were begun and completed with the view of transferring, with the least possible injury, the tender plants from their native soil.

On the twenty-ninth day of December, 1787, the Bounty left England, under orders to proceed to the Society Islands, for the purpose of procuring plants of the breadfruit tree, to be conveyed to the West Indies. Lieutenant William Bligh was appointed commander, and about forty-five persons, including a gardener, made up the crew. Provisions for eighteen months were put on board.

The different feelings that possessed the minds of the men who were leaving behind them what they held most sacred and dear on earth, may be imagined; yet were they doubtless cheered by the thought of one day meeting again the dear friends at home, when the long separation was ended. But for the ship, and for some of the crew, it was never to be, and could the results of that voyage have been foreseen, it is a question how many of those who then left their native land would have dared to embark on a journey that was to be fraught with events so startling in their nature, and that was to end so strangely, that even at this distant day the story is repeated and listened to with sustained interest, not only by strangers, but by the immediate descendants of the misguided men, who themselves fell victims at last to their own wrongdoing.

The voyage out was safely accomplished, the Bounty having arrived at Tahiti in the month of October, the year following her departure from England. Six months were spent at the island collecting and stowing away the plants, the crew in the meanwhile becoming very friendly with the natives. A violent storm threatening, Captain Bligh deemed it prudent to leave. This was in April, 1789.

Leaving Tahiti, the Bounty went on to Anamooka, where Captain Bligh took in water, fruits, goats, and other live stock, and put to sea again on the 26th of the same month. It was after leaving the last mentioned island that some dissatisfaction was first noticed among the crew. Hitherto, if there had been cause for complaint respecting the captain’s treatment of those he commanded, it had not been openly manifested. It has now become matter of history that William Bligh possessed a tyrannical temper, and frequently had misunderstandings with his officers and men. This, and the fact that many of the crew had formed intimate acquaintance with the people of the islands, doubtless caused them to conceive the plan of seizing the ship, after having disposed of the officers.

Shortly before the mutiny broke out, one of the men, Fletcher Christian (master’s mate), incurred the captain’s severe displeasure. It is said that through the advice of a young officer who perished in the Pandora, Christian first formed the design of mutiny, which was so effectually carried out. Be that as it may, the night of the 28th of April, 1789, witnessed the outbreak on board the Bounty, as the mutinous crew rose in arms against their captain. Fletcher Christian, aided by three other men, secured the person of Captain Bligh. They entered his cabin, and dragged him from his bed. Being soon overpowered, his hands were pinioned behind him, thus rendering him helpless in the hands of his captors.

A boat had been made ready to receive the unfortunate Bligh and those of his companions who were to share his fate, but the share of provisions allowed them was very small. Owing to the smallness of the size of the boat, only eighteen men besides the captain ventured to trust their lives in it. Others would gladly have accompanied the eighteen, but there was no possibility of obtaining room in the boat, already too full, and their only alternative was to remain in the ship with their misguided companions. The boat containing the unfortunate men being cut adrift was soon headed for the island of Tofoa, about thirty miles distant, where a landing was effected. The natives there showed a decidedly hostile spirit, and when made aware of the presence of the white men, they rushed down to the beach, shooting arrows and hurling stones at the intruders. A man named John Norton was killed. The other eighteen hastened to get beyond the reach of their pursuers and their arrows. Then commenced a voyage attended with so much hardship and misery in the exposed condition of the voyagers that even to this day it commands the admiration and excites the wonder of all who hear. Going over the vast distance of upwards of twelve hundred leagues, encountering every kind of weather, enduring dreadful sufferings, hunger, and thirst, these men at last reached the island of Timor, where was a Dutch settlement. Here they were shown the greatest hospitality and kindness by the governor. Leaving Timor, they went to Batavia, where Bligh and some of his officers took passage on a vessel bound for Europe. They eventually reached England in safety.

MOORLAND CLOSE, CUMBERLAND, THE BIRTHPLACE OF FLETCHER CHRISTIAN.

No time was lost in acquainting the English Government with the disastrous failure of the Bounty’s mission, and, although there were some among the crew who, at the time of the mutiny, pleaded that no blame should be attached to them, the result showed that Bligh did not spare those whose hearts and hands were alike innocent of any wrong against him. Very soon the Pandora, commanded by Captain Edwards, a man devoid of the humane feelings of kindness and pity, was sent in search of the men who had so willfully forgotten their duty. Of these only fourteen were found, eight having accompanied Fletcher Christian, with the Bounty, and two of their number having been killed by the natives of Tahiti some little while before. These poor men were conveyed in irons on board the Pandora, where they were placed in a close room, with one small opening to admit light and air. Chained to the floor, exposed to the most cruel treatment that the mind of the inhuman Edwards could conceive, enduring the heaviest privations, and compelled to live in their noisome den from day-to-day without any means of having it cleansed, the condition of these sufferers can more readily be imagined than described.

In this cruel position they were forced to exist; and when at last the Pandora was wrecked on a coral reef, the unfeeling Edwards would not listen to the piteous pleadings of the prisoners and release them, even to afford what help they might be able to render in trying to save the ship. One sailor, however, possessed of humane feelings, would not willingly let so many of his fellow-creatures perish thus before his eyes, and, exerting all his strength, succeeded in accomplishing their release, but not until four of them had perished. On board the ship that finally conveyed them to England, they were treated as human beings, and allowed freedom from their chains. Of these ten men “four were acquitted; one was discharged on account of an informality in the indictment; the other five were found guilty and were condemned to death. Of these two received a pardon, and the three others were executed at Spithead,” from which place they had sailed on their eventful voyage four years before.

CHAPTER II.

The Arrival at Pitcairn

DURING all this time where were Christian and the other guilty men who followed him? After having set the boat containing Bligh and his companions adrift, Fletcher Christian assumed command of the Bounty, and returned toward Tahiti. The ship was taken first to Toobonai, the intention of the men being to settle there; but, finding the place destitute of animals, they went to Tahiti to procure a stock of pigs and goats. Obtaining what they needed, they returned again to Toobonai, but found the natives hostile to their landing. Once more, and for the third and last time, the Bounty was brought to Tahiti, where she was anchored in Matavai Bay, on the 20th of September, 1789. Sixteen of the crew here landed, taking with them their share of the arms and other articles on board the Bounty. These were the men, it will be understood, who were discovered and taken away by the Pandora, as related in the previous chapter.

Leaving at Tahiti that portion of the crew whose choice it was to remain, Christian, accompanied by eight of his shipmates who decided to cast in their lot with him, sailed away from Tahiti forever. But this number was not all, for six of the native men, and ten women, and a girl of fifteen, were taken on board as wives and servants, the sailors having determined to seek some place where they could live secure from the danger of discovery. It is said that Christian, having seen an account of the discovery of a lone island in the Pacific Ocean, by Captain Cartaret, in the year 1767, directed the course of the ship to that place. It was named Pitcairn Island, after the young man who descried it, he being, as the story goes, a son of the Major Pitcairn who fell in the Battle of Bunker Hill.

On the twenty-third day of January, 1790, the Bounty reached her destination. The island, though small, being about five miles in circumference, and scarcely more than two miles across at its widest point, was thickly covered with a luxuriant growth of trees.

On coming near enough for a boat to venture, a small party went on shore to search the land. They effected a landing on the west side of the island, but, finding that a few yards from the sea the rocks rose perpendicularly to a forbidding height, and thinking to find a more convenient place for a settlement, they brought the ship round to the northeast side of the island. Here they managed to bring their boat safely to the shore, through perilous rocks and breakers. It did not take long to discover that the island had been, and perhaps still was, inhabited, and fears were entertained lest they should be attacked by hostile natives. Traces of former habitations,—marais, stone images, rude pictures cut in the rocks, stone hatchets, etc., etc.,—were evident proofs that human beings had once lived on the island, and in addition to these, several human skulls and other bones were afterward seen.

As day after day passed, and no one appeared to molest them, the mutineers began to feel more secure and safe, and preparations were made for a permanent settlement. Their supply of water, though not abundant, was sufficient for their requirements, and the plants brought with them from Tahiti would, in due course of time, be able to supply their every want. But, first, all trace of the ship must be destroyed. She was driven near enough to the shore to allow of her being fastened to a tree by means of a rope. Everything that could be of service to the settlers was removed. For greater safety, one little child was brought ashore in a barrel, as the landing place for boats was very dangerous. When all had been removed from the ship, she was set on fire, and destroyed.

There were those among the mutineers, if not all, who were grieved that they should be obliged to destroy the vessel that had been their home so long. Especially was it so with John Mills, if his daughter’s testimony is correct, for she never wearied of telling how her father sorrowed over the destruction of the Bounty, as it was his hope one day to return in her to England, even at the risk of his life. These fugitives from justice spent the early days of their settlement on Pitcairn Island in caves, and tents made of canvas, while their cottages were being built. Here, on this solitary, uninhabited spot, Christian could, at least, hope to hide himself and his guilty associates from the extreme penalty of the law.

But no degree of outward security could bring peace to a mind constantly disturbed with self-accusing thoughts, or still the reproaches of a conscience burdened with guilt and remorse. Poor, misguided men! Utterly isolated from the rest of the world, their only means of communication destroyed, their condition was forlorn in the extreme. In their outward circumstances they were tolerably comfortable, as they had brought with them enough of the necessities of life to sustain them until the land could be made to produce fresh supplies. Such clothing as they possessed would have to be carefully kept, and as regarded the native men and women, the simplest covering sufficed for them. The land was shared out among the Englishmen, their native servants helping them to cultivate the ground. Salt was obtained from the small, shallow pools in the rocks, and these rocks were also shared among them.

For two years a fair degree of prosperity blessed their efforts, but the comparative peace and success they enjoyed could not be expected to continue. The first real trouble and disturbance was caused by one of the mutineers named Williams. His wife had gone out one day among the cliffs to search for sea birds and eggs. While so doing, she fell and was killed. Williams, wanting another woman, demanded and obtained the wife of one of the native men. Wronged and outraged by this scandalous act, the native men vowed to be revenged on the Englishmen, and a plot was formed to murder them all. The secret being made known to the women, they imparted it to the Englishmen, in a song as follows:—

“Why does black man sharpen ax?

To kill white man.”

And now begins a story of oppression, treachery, and bloodshed, that forms the darkest page in this island’s history. So constant was the dread experienced by some of the women, that they contrived, in secret, to construct a rude raft, with the intention of returning to Tahiti, or be lost in the attempt. They had their raft launched, and ventured a little way beyond the breakers; but their hearts failed them, and the entreaties of some of the women left behind, who had found out their intention, prevailing, they returned to shore again. Hostile feelings were strong on both sides. The women, however, sided entirely with the Englishmen. In one instance one of the women deliberately murdered her native husband, when they were alone together in a cave where they lived.[1]

[1] It is to this that Mr. Nobbs referred when, many years later, in his song entitled “Pitcairn,” he speaks of the “ghost that still lingers on Tullaloo’s Ridge.” Tullaloo was the man’s name.

When some degree of peace had been restored, and the suspicions of their masters were quieted, the wronged and oppressed Tahitians, obtaining possession of arms, fell upon the white men while they were quietly working on their allotments of land, and hunted and shot them down. Fletcher Christian, John Mills, Isaac Martin, William Brown, and John Williams were killed. William McCoy and Matthew Quintall escaped into the woods, while John Adams, having at first escaped into the woods, on again showing himself, was shot and severely wounded. Recovering himself, he ran away from his pursuers, and, making for the rocky cliffs, would have thrown himself off, but those in pursuit, by sundry signs, showed that they intended no further harm. Being thus reassured of his safety, he returned with them to one of the houses, where he was kindly treated. Edward Young, a favorite with the women, had been concealed by them, and so escaped the dangers to which the others had been exposed. Thus were the lives of four among the nine mutineers spared. But peace was not yet to be. How was it possible, when the men and women that remained practiced freely every vice that could degrade manhood and womanhood. Treachery and bloodshed still raged among them, and no one felt his life secure.

THE LANDING PLACE, BOUNTY BAY.

A story is told of how the death of one of the native men was accomplished. It was before anyone had been killed. The man, called by the name of Timiti, had been accused of some wrongdoing, and was brought before the Englishmen to be tried. Christian, so the story goes, was, while trying the case, walking backward and forward through the midst of the assembled company met to see the result of the trial. Timiti, learning only too well that his sentence would be death, took the opportunity when Christian was in the act of turning himself around, to make a spring for the open door. Before his judges could recover from their surprise, he was too far on his way to be readily overtaken, and his pursuers were obliged to return without him. Taking a short cut down towards the sea, he speedily descended the steep cliffs, and ran across the rocky shore. Swimming across places where no footpath could be found, and walking the rest of the way, he at length reached a place on the south side of the island known by the name of Taowtama. Here he succeeded in hiding himself for a while, until someone descried him from the heights above, engaged in a favorite pastime, called ihara (pronounced e-hurra).

The news soon spread that Timiti’s hiding place was discovered, and another native, named Menálee, was sent out to secure him. One of his companions also went with him, and before long they were at the place. Timiti, suspecting treachery, would have fled, but the two men, through their fair speeches and the food they had brought him, quickly disarmed him of his suspicions. To further assure him they produced a comb, and prevailed on him to let them comb his hair. Having thus decoyed him into their power, the rest was easy enough, and a few seconds sufficed to dispatch the poor fellow.

After the massacre of Christian and his companions the native men turned upon one another, and the four remaining Englishmen, assisted by the widows of the murdered white men, joined in ridding the island of these “disturbers of the peace,” so that in a short time after the mutineers had been killed every one of the native men was also put to death.

During the occurrence of these shocking scenes, how must every human impulse and every kindly feeling have been nearly extinguished! To add to the dreadful evils that were committed, McCoy, who had been brought up in a distillery, spent much of his time in distilling ardent spirits from the roots of the tee plant. Quintall assisted him, his “teakettle being converted into a still.” These two men succeeded but too well. Drunkenness was added to the already long list of vices, and was of frequent occurrence. In McCoy’s case it brought its own punishment, for in an attack of delirium he made his way to the rocky shore, and, fastening a stone around his body, cast himself off into the sea. The dead body was found by a little girl, a daughter of John Adams, and was brought up to the little settlement and buried.

Quintall, McCoy’s boon companion, met his death at the hands of his two remaining shipmates. Always disorderly and troublesome, provoking a quarrel whenever he could, and frequently threatening the lives of Young and Adams, he became a constant terror to them. As an instance of his ferocious nature, the story is handed down that one day his wife went out fishing, and, not succeeding in obtaining enough to satisfy Quintall, he punished her by biting off her ear.[2] Like Williams, he also lost his wife, and in the same way, she having fallen from the rocks when going after birds. Regardless of the fearful consequences which so quickly followed a crime of the same nature only a short time before, Quintall demanded the wife of one of his two remaining companions. Their refusal to comply with his demands determined him to try to put his oft-repeated threats into execution. Adams and Young, knowing their lives to be in danger, felt themselves justified in putting an end to Quintall’s life.

[2] Asserted as a fact.

The opportunity soon came, and one day when he was in John Adams’ house, he was set upon and overpowered by the two other men. By means of a hatchet the dreadful work of death was soon completed. The daughter of John Mills (who lived to the age of ninety-three), then a young girl of eight or nine years of age, was an eyewitness of the awful deed, and used to relate how terrified were all of the little band of women and children who beheld the blood-bespattered walls. The dreadful scene was vividly pictured on her mind and memory through the long course of more than eighty years.

CHAPTER III.

The Mutineers Discovered

THE two chief causes of trouble and mischief being now removed, there was prospect of enjoying more tranquillity and peace than had ever been known before. Of the fifteen males who landed on the island, only two now remained. These two, Adams and Young, having the whole responsibility of the young and increasing colony devolving upon them, arose to the exigency of the case. Young was naturally of a thoughtful and serious cast of mind, and the scenes which he and Adams had witnessed, and in which they had participated, had the effect of deepening the serious impressions that had been made upon them both, and they resolved to train, as best they could, their own children and those of their unfortunate companions, in the paths of virtue and right. Young’s superior education better fitted him for the grave undertaking; but he did not long survive his repentance. He had long been afflicted with the asthma, and died of that complaint in the year 1800, about a year after Quintall’s death.

John Adams was now sole survivor. With a deep and abiding repentance for his former course of life, he strove to amend the misdoings of years by instilling into the minds of the young and rising generation around him right principles. Alone and unaided in the gigantic task, he suffered not his courage to fail in the endeavor, and his earnestness of purpose, directed in a right channel, could not fail to win some measure of success. The number of children that had been born to the mutineers was twenty-three. Fletcher Christian left three children; John Mills, two; William McCoy, three; Matthew Quintall, five; Edward Young, six; and John Adams, four. John Williams, a Frenchman, Isaac Martin, an American, and William Brown, an Englishman, left no children.

John Adams used to relate that it was through the influence of a dream that he was first led seriously to consider the condition of the helpless and ignorant youths who were so suddenly and unexpectedly left on his hands, and to arouse himself to the heavy responsibility that rested on him, as the only instructor that could be had for them, totally unfit for the task though he might be. It was a late beginning, but he engaged in the work with all his heart. A Bible and prayer book saved from the Bounty were the only means at his command in teaching the young people to read. But, with the blessing of God upon his humble efforts, John Adams had the satisfaction of seeing the children of such disreputable parentage growing up around him, quiet, peaceable, industrious, and happy, and with an increasing love of virtue and strict morality. A beautiful feature of the whole was the love that united them as one family under the fatherly control of John Adams. Such was the condition of life on Pitcairn Island when, in 1808, Captain Mayhew Folger, of the American ship Topaz, accidentally discovered that the island was inhabited. Following is part of a letter received by the writer from Mr. Robert Folger (a son of the captain above named), who kindly gave permission to make use of it. The letter was dated Massillon, Stark County, Ohio, August 4, 1882. After giving his reasons for writing, the letter proceeds as follows:—

“My brother, sister, and myself are the only surviving children of Captain Mayhew Folger, of the ship Topaz, of Boston, the discoverer, in February, 1808, of the colony on Pitcairn’s Island. I do not like to refer to the survivor of the Bounty crew on the island as a mutineer, for I cannot help feeling that the cruelty of Bligh to his men was such as to justify almost anything on the part of the people on board.... I may now say that I have been for nearly twenty-five years gathering facts in regard to Pitcairn’s Island.

“I have Bligh’s own account of the mutiny, ‘Delano’s Voyages,’ my father’s logbook, with his entry therein in his own handwriting, dated, as I now remember, February 8, 1808—Lady Belcher’s book, ‘The Mutineers of the Bounty’—and numerous letters and newspaper publications.

“If you would like a copy of my father’s journal entry, I shall have great pleasure in transcribing it, and sending it to you. I may as well say in advance that he, as a shipmaster, shared in the general feeling of the world, and shipmasters especially, against the ‘arch-mutineer,’ Christian.

“The history of your island will long, I may say always, be a wonder. During the sixty years that I remember it, it has been a wonder, and it will continue to be, as wonders do not decrease in interest. Three-quarters of a century have gone into the great ocean of time since Captain Mayhew Folger discovered the colony, and the interest in the history of the island is unabated. The island cannot be mentioned without exciting a wonder even in the mind of the unlearned, as to the history of the colonists, their present status, and, indeed, all that concerns them.

“In connection with the truth concerning the colonists, there has been a great deal of error and nonsense published. Blackwood’s Magazine is not free from being a participant in setting afloat most senseless statements, which were about twenty-four years since repeated in this country. There are very few living who can enter into the spirit of Pitcairn’s history, and, what is to me most singular and unaccountable, a large number of would-be historians are engaged in uttering most senseless pretensions to correct the history of the island, from the arrival of the Bounty until the arrival of the Topaz—a period of twenty years when nothing was known, nor could be known, of the island, nor was known until the arrival of the Topaz in February, 1808.

“You, undoubtedly, have had access to the account of the mutiny by Captain Bligh, also to ‘Delano’s Voyages,’ published in 1817, in which are two letters from Captain Folger, one to Captain Delano, and one to the Lords of the Admiralty, R. N., and which was received by them through Rear-Admiral Hotham, who, in 1813, was, I think, in command of the English blockading squadron on our coast in the War of 1812.... It was through Rear-Admiral Hotham that my father sent the Azimuth compass, and within five years last past I have noticed in some publication (I cannot state what one) that Her Majesty’s navy had obtained the Bounty’s chronometer, which was taken from my father at Valparaiso when his vessel was confiscated by the Spanish governor of Chile when he reached the South American Coast, after having visited Pitcairn’s Island.

“As your grandfather, Mr. Buffett, mentions ‘Delano’s Voyages,’ I suppose you too have read that, in many respects, curious book. In the main, the portion which refers to my father is correct. Captain Delano visited my father at Kendal in 1817.... In reading Mr. Delano’s book you will find a letter to the Lords of the Admiralty dated at Kendal.... If I were to write a history of the island, I could give a chronological statement that would be in order and critically correct, as I think I have in my library every date from the discovery of the island in 1767, by Captain Cartaret, of H. B. M. ship Swallow, to the present time....

“Since writing the foregoing, I concluded to copy all the entries from my father’s logbook in which the island is mentioned....

“‘Ship Topaz, of Boston, Mayhew Folger master, on a sealing voyage to the South Pacific Ocean, 1808.

“‘Saturday, 6th February.—First part light airs at east, steering west by south, half south by compass. At ½ past on P. M. saw land bearing southwest by west half west. Steered for the land with a light breeze at east, the said land being Pitcairn’s Island, discovered in 1767 by Captain Cartaret in his Britannic Majesty’s sloop Swallow. A 2 A. M. the isle bore south two leagues distant. Lay off and on till daylight. At 6 A. M. put off with two boats to explore and look for seals.

BOUNTY BAY FROM THE CLIFFS.

“‘On approaching the shore saw a smoke on the land, at which I was very much surprised, it being represented by Captain Cartaret as destitute of inhabitants.

“‘On approaching still nearer the land, I discovered a boat paddling towards me with three men in her. On approaching her, they hailed me in the English language, asking who was the captain of the ship, and offered me a number of cocoanuts, which they had brought off as a present, and requested I would land, there being, as they said, a white man on shore.

“‘I went on shore and found there an Englishman by the name of Alexander Smith, the only person remaining out of nine that escaped on board the ship Bounty, Captain Bligh, under the command of that arch-mutineer, Christian. Smith informed me that, after putting Captain Bligh in the longboat and sending her adrift, Commander Christian proceeded to Otaheite. There all the mutineers chose to stop except Christian himself, Smith, and seven others. They all took wives at Otaheite, and six men as servants, and proceeded to Pitcairn’s Island, where they landed all their goods and chattels, ran the ship Bounty on shore, and broke her up, which took place, as near as he could recollect, in 1790. Soon after, one of their party ran mad and drowned himself; another died with a fever, and after they had remained about four years on the island, their men servants rose upon them and killed six of them, leaving only Smith alive, and he desperately wounded, with a pistol ball in the neck. However, he and the widows of the deceased arose and put all the servants to death, which left him the only surviving man on the island, with eight or nine women and several small children. He immediately went to work tilling the ground, so that it produces plenty for them all, and he lives very comfortably as commander-in-chief of Pitcairn’s Island.[3]

[3] There is a little difference between Captain Folger’s statement and the real facts of those early days, as handed down through succeeding generations, from those (especially Susanna, the girl of fifteen from Tahiti) who were eye-witnesses of the dreadful scenes that took place, when bloodshed followed treachery in their dealings between master and servant.

“‘All the children of the deceased mutineers speak tolerable English; some of them are grown to the size of men and women; and, to do them justice, I think them a very humane and hospitable people; and whatever may have been the errors or crimes of Smith, the mutineer, in times back, he is at present a worthy man, and may be useful to navigators who traverse this immense ocean.

“‘Such is the history of Christian and his associates. Be it remembered that this island is scantily supplied with fresh water, so that it is impossible for a ship to get a supply. I place it in latitude 25° 2′ south, and 130° west longitude, from my last lunar observation.

“‘Sunday, 7 February.—Light airs from the eastward and very hot. The ship laying off and on, I stayed on shore with the friendly Smith and his truly good people until 4 P. M., then left them and went on board and made sail, steering southeast and southeast by east, bound for Massafuero, having received from the people on shore some hogs, cocoanuts, and plantains. At noon the isle bore northwest by north by compass 34′ dist. Latitude observation 25° 31′ south, etc.’”

After Captain Folger’s accidental discovery of the little colony on Pitcairn Island, nothing more was known or heard of them for a period of nearly six years. In the year 1814 H. M. ships Briton and Tagus, commanded respectively by Captains Staines and Pipon, out on a cruise and returning to Valparaiso from the Marquesas, passed near the island. So strange was the sight of a ship that when these two were first descried approaching the island, the young woman who first saw them ran to make it known to the rest by saying that “two paafata

As for the people on board, they were not a little surprised to see from their vessels the land laid out in regular plantations. The houses, too, that could be seen were different in make from those of the other islands they had lately visited. In a short time a canoe was seen paddling off towards the ships. To the astonishment of those on board, the visitors from the shore, on coming near enough to speak to those on the Briton, called out in plain English, “Won’t you heave us a rope now?” A rope was thrown them, and they were warmly welcomed on board.

The mystery was explained when, on being questioned, they said that they were Thursday October Christian, son of Fletcher Christian, the mutineer, and George Young, son of the midshipman Edward Young. The former was named after the day and month of his birth. He was described as a “tall and handsome young man about twenty-four years of age, his scanty clothing consisting of a waistcloth, while he wore a broad-brimmed straw hat adorned with black cock’s feathers.” His companion, George Young, was said to be a “fine, noble-looking youth, 17 or 18 years of age.” On being invited below, and having food set before them, they further astonished their kind entertainers by reverently asking a blessing before partaking of their food. In reply to a question they said that the good custom had been taught them by John Adams. Every kindness was shown to the two young men, and when they were taken to see a cow that was on board the ship, they created some amusement by asking whether the animal was “a huge goat or a horned sow.”

THURSDAY OCTOBER CHRISTIAN.

Captain Sir Thomas Staines went on shore, and was agreeably surprised to find the youthful colony living harmoniously together under the patriarchal rule of John Adams. Great fears were entertained by the humble islanders lest their only instructor and teacher should be removed from them, more especially as he had fully decided to give himself up should he be required to do so. But the Tahitian women pleaded strongly that he might be allowed to remain, and, clinging to John Adams, weeping while they pleaded, the humane captain, himself deeply touched at the scene, resolved not to disturb them. At the same time he advised Adams not to go down to the landing place, where the boat was, himself making the excuse that the path to the beach was sufficiently rough and stony for the old man not to venture. The advice was followed, Adams accompanying the kind-hearted captain only part of the way. Thanking him for the thoughtful consideration shown to himself and people, he bade Captain Staines farewell, and returned to the little village.

CHAPTER IV.

The Gem of the Pacific

PITCAIRN ISLAND, brought to notice through the events already narrated, is insignificantly small, being only about five miles and a half in circumference and two miles and a half across. It was, when the mutineers first settled on it, thickly covered with trees wherever there was soil sufficient for their roots to take hold; but, in the period of a hundred years, during which wild goats have roamed in herds over certain portions of the island, many of the trees have disappeared. The soil, thus made bare, has severely suffered by being washed away by heavy rains, and scarcely a trace of the once luxuriant growth of trees remains. Viewed from the sea, the island in two or three places presents a bare and sterile appearance. Its isolated position in mid-ocean, its rock-bound shores and precipitous cliffs, alike impress the beholder with a sense of the security such a place would afford to those whose chief aim was to hide their crimes and get beyond the reach of well-merited punishment.

The highest part of the island is about one thousand one hundred and nine feet above the sea. Facing the north is a peak, or immense rock, scarcely less high, called the Goat House. A cave in the side of this rock, partly hidden by lofty trees, is said to have been the intended retreat of Christian and his companions, in the event of their being sought after and their lone island discovered. The peak overlooking Bounty Bay, called Ship-landing Point, because it stands directly over the place where the Bounty was driven near the rocks and destroyed, has been described as “possessing considerable beauty.” It rises in bold outline almost perpendicularly from the sea, its rugged, rocky front softened here and there by patches of grass and shrubs. The scenery surrounding the little bay, with its rocky shore, is always beautiful. Vine-covered trees, with foliage of intensest green—more especially the pandanus palm tree—flourish in rich growth quite near the water’s edge, the salt spray frequently moistening their branches, while the soft sea air helps to diffuse the delicious fragrance of the sweetest flower that the island boasts of, the morinda citrifolia, named by the islanders simply “high white,” in distinction to the pure white blossoms of the “four o’clock,” which blooms on a low bush.

Overhead, near the highest extremity of Ship-landing Point, looking from the north, is seen a natural curiosity, a huge portion of the rock showing in profile a representation of a man’s head of gigantic size. It is called the Old Man’s Head, and it is not difficult to imagine that it looks down upon the small bay with an expression of mild benevolence. The ascent from the landing place is very steep, but is made comparatively easy by a very tolerable road leading up the few hundred feet.

On the southeast side of the island is the place known as “the Rope,” so called because in former years the steep descent could only be accomplished by means of a rope. A zigzag path, only wide enough to afford a foothold, now leads down from the high precipice to the water’s edge. The steep cliffs, rising almost perpendicularly from the shore, are grandly beautiful. The variegated colors of the soil, the rocks, and the foliage of trees, all blended together, or contrasted in shades of black and gray, yellow and brown, red and green, make the scenery altogether pleasing; and not less beautiful is the view of the waters of the little bay, when, calm and smooth, it spreads out like a lake, without a ripple on its surface, or when, with wild and roaring sound, wave after wave breaks and rolls in toward the shore, leaving the surface of the water as if covered with billows of loveliest lace, pure and white.

PATH THROUGH COCOANUT GROVE.

In the most sheltered corner of the bay, at the Rope, is a small stretch of sand, on one end of which, at the foot of the rock that towers above it, there were found by the mutineers some stone axes and other implements, which were made and used by the natives that originally inhabited the island. Here, too, are cut in the rocks some of the figures made by the rude artists of those by-gone ages. Most of the characters have been obliterated by more than a century’s exposure to every kind of weather. A few, however, remain quite distinct, as may be seen by the accompanying illustration.

FIGURES CUT IN THE ROCKS AT THE ROPE.

The pandanus palm tree, with its clustering branches of drooping leaves, fringes the shores of the bay nearly its whole extent. The innumerable huge stones and rocks that cover the bottom of the bay make it impossible for a boat to land. Its waters teem with myriads of small fish. The bêche de mer drags out its existence in the many sand-bottomed pools, while the cray fish and whelk, both of which are eaten, make their home beneath and among the seaweed-covered rocks that abound in the shallow bay. Looking north from the ridge of the Rope, the eye rests upon a small but lovely valley, named St. Paul’s Valley, it being in the vicinity of St. Paul’s Rock. Grand old trees, with their varied and changing tints of foliage, render the scenery always beautiful, while, as an accompaniment to their gentle, rustling music, comes the booming sound of the surf on the rocks far below.

In the valley between Ship-landing Point on the northeast and the Goat House, facing north, lies, nestling among trees, the little village settled by the mutineers a hundred years ago. Groves of cocoanut and orange trees surround it, while the beautiful banyan tree, with its curious growth of long, rope-like roots hanging in thick profusion, and its towering branches covered for ten months of the year with a springlike robe of green, lends a delightful charm to the scenery.

Although the island is rocky to some extent, it still possesses much picturesque beauty. Steep ridges and deep valleys are its chief characteristics, both being covered by grand old shade-giving trees. The only drawback to a thorough enjoyment of walking or resting beneath the trees is the absence of singing birds to enliven the branches with their songs. One little homely bird with its coat of brown and white is the only occupant of the woods, with the exception of a beautiful white sea bird that in the early warmer season comes to deposit its egg on a niche of the bare branch of the banyan or other large tree. These two birds, the former with its constant “tweet, tweet,” and the latter with its lively, shrill calls, impart some life to the otherwise silent groves. Occasionally a few other varieties of sea birds, sailing overhead, pierce the silent air with their cries.

MORINDA CITRIFOLIA.

Ferns, of which there are about twenty-six varieties, adorn the valleys in lovely and rich profusion. Of wild flowers there are but few, and all of them are, with one exception, small, white, and fragrant. This one is a sweet little flower that loves to open its golden eyes during the colder months of the year, and is found mostly around the edge of the high precipices. It is a universal favorite. The “flower tree” (morinda citrifolia) is in bloom almost all the year round, but is at its loveliest from October to March. Its pure white blossoms contrast richly with the dark, glossy leaves, while its delightful perfume, as well as its simple beauty, makes it a favorite with old and young. Children, boys as well as girls, find a never-ceasing pleasure in stringing the flowers into garlands, which they wear around their hats.

The bright blossoms that here and there meet the eye have been introduced from time to time, mostly by the captains of passing ships, who have kindly given from their own limited stock. Also many seeds have been sent by friends in England, America, and the Sandwich Islands; but only those from the last-named place have succeeded well, most of the others, owing greatly, no doubt, to the want of proper culture, having proved a failure. However, through the thoughtful kindness of friends, the little island is not entirely destitute of nature’s loveliest productions.

First among the principal fruits that the island produces is the orange. The trees begin to be in blossom from the end of July at the earliest, and continue flowering until October. The season of the fruit is from April to November. As the trees occasionally produce a second crop, it is not unusual to have them in fruit the year round. Watermelons, muskmelons, pineapples, roseapples, and figs are in season from November to April. Bananas, of which there are a few varieties, can be had all the year round, but are at their best from January to June. The guava grows wild, and from March to July the trees are laden with fruit. Grapes might be cultivated. The sugar cane is also one of the principal productions of the island, the rich syrup made from its juice being used instead of sugar. Arrowroot is cultivated with profit. The process of making it involves much labor. The plants are set in the ground in the months of October and November, and the roots are fully matured by June. The yam crop is set at the same time as the arrowroot, and takes the same length of time to come to maturity.

Such are some of the present productions of the little island that became the hiding place of the mutineers. They themselves doubtless introduced the breadfruit, cocoanut, taro, yam, and one variety of the sweet potato. The places they once owned and cultivated are still called by their names, as John Adams’ Breadfruit Patch, Ned Young’s Ground, McCoy’s Valley, and so on through the whole list. But, while their names remain, every trace of their burial places is lost, the grave of John Adams alone excepted.

Pitcairn! To thee, land of my birth,

My song I bring;

Thy hills and valleys, trees and flowers,

Their praise I sing.

The cocoanut, with waving plumes

Of shining green,

The sweetly-scented orange blooms,

Both here are seen.

And stately trees, and luscious fruits,

Thy soil supplies;

But the enriching showers and rains

The heaven denies.

Thou once wast fertile, rich, and green,

But now, how bare;

And yet thou still art beautiful,

Still sweet and fair.

Such matchless days of calm, fair skies

Thy summers bring!

And lovely, too, are all the hours

Of balmy spring.

Each season, as it rolls around,

New beauties gives;

And every object, silent, cries,

“My Maker lives.”

CHAPTER V.

JOHN BUFFETT and JOHN EVANS

Marriages and Births

TO RETURN to John Adams and his small community. Five or six years had passed since the visits of the Briton and the Tagus, and during that time the fact of the island being inhabited, and by whom, had become more widely known. About the year 1819 the East India Company’s ship Hercules, Captain Henderson, made a call at the island and left some useful and much-needed gifts for the islanders, consisting of carpenters’ tools, large iron boilers, etc., etc., the last mentioned being used chiefly for the purpose of boiling down salt water to obtain salt.

In the month of October, 1823, an English whaleship, the Cyrus, Captain Hall, visited Pitcairn Island. John Adams, being now somewhat advanced in years, and beginning already to feel the infirmities of age, expressed to Captain Hall the wish that he could find among the ship’s crew someone to assist him in the arduous task of trying to impart instruction to his young people. The captain listened kindly, and promised to do what he could. Calling his men around him, he made known to them the wishes of the old man, and asked if any of them would be willing to accede to his request. After a few minutes’ hesitation, John Buffett, a young man twenty-six years of age, stepped forward and volunteered his services. Being bound by no home ties, he counted it no great sacrifice to remain.

Buffett had in early youth been apprenticed to a cabinet maker in Bristol, his native place. Of a roving disposition, a sea life especially possessing a peculiar fascination for him, he left his early trade to serve on board His Majesty’s ship Penelope, and again on the Impregnable. He was shipwrecked in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and afterwards cast away on the coast of California, where he was received and cared for in the kindest manner by an old Spanish comandante in the place. The latter made every effort to persuade Buffett to make his home in California, but he decided not to do so, and from thence he made his way to Honolulu, in the Sandwich Islands, where he joined the Cyrus. At last, after his many adventures, he arrived at Pitcairn Island, where, accepting his captain’s proposal, he resolved to end his days among the people with whom his lot was now cast.

Among his shipmates on board the Cyrus was a youth about nineteen years of age, named John Evans, a native of London. For love of Buffett, he determined to remain on the island, and for this purpose he ran away from the ship. Being of very small build, he contrived to hide himself in the hollow stump of a tree until the vessel had sailed, and it was safe for him to make his appearance. As there was no help for it, Evans also was allowed to become a member of the community.

Not many months passed before both Buffett and Evans sought in marriage the hands of two of the island maidens. Buffett met with no opposition to his suit, and, in due time, was united in marriage to Dorothy, a daughter of Edward Young. Evans did not obtain such ready favor when he requested of John Adams the hand of his daughter Rachel. The old man did not approve of the young people’s entering the marriage relation at too early an age, and Evans was barely nineteen; besides, the disparity in age of the two young persons was another obstacle in the father’s view, the young woman being the older by some years. However, the matter was referred to the daughter for decision. Her answer came, quick, short, and decided, “Try it, daddy.” He at length consented, but not without misgivings regarding her future happiness, and his paternal blessing was not withheld when the twain stood up to be made one, being wedded with a ring formed of the outer circle of a limpet shell.

THE CHAPEL.

It may prove interesting to some readers to know the names of those others whom John Adams united in the bonds of matrimony. The service was performed according to the rites of the Church of England. The parties were, of course, the sons and daughters of all the mutineers who left children, and their names are as follows: Matthew Quintall to Elizabeth Mills, Arthur Quintall to Katharine McCoy, Daniel McCoy to Sarah Quintall. These two last mentioned young men one day swam off to a rock at a considerable distance from the shore, and there agreed to seek each one the other’s sister for a wife. The rock received, from that incident, its name, Táné M’á, i. e., “The place of the men’s agreement.” Thursday October Christian, son of Fletcher Christian, and the first born on the island, married Susan, the girl of fifteen who came in the Bounty. The others were: Charles Christian, married to Sarah McCoy; Edward Quintall, to Dinah Adams; George Young, to Hannah Adams; William Young, to Elizabeth Mills, widow of Matthew Quintall, who met his death in some unknown manner. Most of the young men went out one day in their canoes to fish. They were mostly within speaking distance of each other, but as Matthew, or Matt, as he was called, was not seen tending his canoe, the others supposed that he was lying down in it. It was afterwards discovered that the canoe was, and had been no one knew how long, floating about without an occupant. The body had sunk, and was never again seen.

The following story is told to show the binding force with which a promise was regarded in those early days: George Adams, the only son of John Adams, had, when quite a youth, “conceived an attachment for Polly Young, but she declared that she would never marry George.” On Captain Beechy’s visit to the island, Adams referred the case to him and the other officers. Their opinion was that the young girl’s determination was made before she was old enough to know her own mind, and would be more “honored in the breach than the observance.” Polly, however, viewed the matter in a different light, but confessed that her opinion of her lover was considerably altered since she declared she would not have him. Subsequently they were married, perhaps not “in haste,” but Polly repented “in a hurry,” for she discovered all too soon that a home with George did not mean a “woman’s paradise.”

One gold ring, the property of Edward Young, played an important part in the wedding services performed in those days, and continued to be used until somewhere in the forties.

Only four of the children of the mutineers died unmarried. One of them, Johnny, the only son of John Mills, the mutineer, came to his death by an awful fall from a high, rocky cliff, where he had gone in search of birds’ eggs. His injuries were such that he died before he could be conveyed to his home. The poor lad was only fourteen years old when the sad accident occurred. Two of the sons of Edward Young, Robert and Edward, both died shortly after the return of the community from Tahiti in 1831, while Fletcher Christian’s only daughter, Mary, died of dropsy, on Norfolk Island, about the year 1865. A daughter of Quintall, having strayed from the path of virtue, was so harshly treated by her brother that when she had an opportunity she left the island. The captain of a passing vessel, being informed of the matter, and learning the wish of the unfortunate young woman, kindly allowed her a passage on his ship. She was taken to the island of Rurutu, where she was most kindly received. One of the chiefs of the island made her his wife, and she eventually became the mother of a numerous family.

Such were the early loves and marriages between the children of the original settlers. Families of healthy, vigorous children were raised, and over them all John Adams presided, much after the fashion of the patriarchs of old, and was looked up to and respected as a father by the growing community, who had the utmost confidence in the wisdom of his counsels and teachings. At the time of Captain Beechy’s visit in the Blossom, in 1825, the community numbered twenty-six adults and thirty-five children, making a total of sixty-one persons. During a period of thirty-five years there had been twenty-seven births, and of the original settlers from the Bounty there remained only John Adams and five of the Tahitian women. These six, with the addition of Buffett and Evans, made eight of the adult population.

When it was first ascertained that the Blossom was a man-of-war, great fears prevailed among the little community lest the ship had come to convey Adams a prisoner to England. But they were soon reassured. The captain and officers hastened to explain that their coming was for an altogether different purpose. When they realized that their fears were groundless, and that there was no danger of the old man’s removal, the female portion of the community crowded around him and embraced him in the most affectionate manner. Especially touching it was to see the way in which Hannah Young clung to her father and embraced him, weeping, even, in the fullness of her joy when she understood that he was not to be taken away.

GROUP OF ISLAND MAIDENS.

During the whole stay of the Blossom her captain and officers were most hospitably entertained by the simple-hearted islanders. The young women especially, who inherited from their Tahitian mothers a strong love for flowers, made it their pleasant duty every morning to adorn the caps of the officers with freshly-made wreaths of sweet-smelling flowers. The visitors were charmed with the open, simple manners of all the islanders, but observed that “the same marked difference between the sexes prevailed here as in all the islands of the Pacific, notably at meals, the women were not allowed to sit down with the men; and when the captain and officers passed their remarks and opinions respecting the difference observed between the sexes, their words were resented, as seeming to interfere with long-established custom.” (It was not so much a “marked difference between the sexes” as a feeling of unaccountable shyness that prevented the women in those early times from sitting down to the same table with strangers. At the present day most of the island women, inheriting the same dispositions from their mothers, when an occasional visitor happens to share their hospitality, would much prefer to “stand and wait” than act the part of hostess by sitting down with their guests.)

The day was invariably begun and ended with prayer and praise to the divine Father for His mercies and His preserving care, each and every family engaging in a short service of worship by parents and children, nor was a day considered as rightly begun if their first duty to their Creator was omitted. This right custom has ever been, and still is, religiously observed by their descendants. Captain Beechy and his officers had the opportunity during their stay of attending divine service on the Sunday. That day was very strictly kept. There was complete cessation from work; no fires were made, all the cooking being done on the Saturday, that nothing of a worldly nature might interfere with the sacred duties of the day of rest. In the public worship on Sundays, Buffett assisted Adams in reading the service, the especial part allotted him being the sermon, “some sentences of which were read over two or three times,” to catch the attention of his hearers, and also to help to impress the words on their memory. Buffett also acted as schoolmaster, and “found the children both willing and attentive scholars.”

When the Blossom left the island, the tearful, affectionate farewells told how the hearts of all the islanders had been won to their visitors, whose pleasant stay and cheerful companionship had been such a bright spot in their quiet lives, and was to form ever after one of their most delightful and pleasing recollections.

CHAPTER VI.

GEORGE HUN NOBBS.

Death of John Adams

THE EVEN, uneventful round of life in the little community passed steadily along, with “scarcely a ripple to stir its monotonous surface.” Cultivating the ground and keeping it in order, building houses for the more newly married couples, canoe building and fishing, and occasionally going out with their guns to shoot goats, wild fowl, and birds, supplied constant occupation for the men. A favorite mode of taking fish was with the spear, usually made by fastening five pieces of iron, bent to the required shape, and having barbed points, onto a pole about twenty feet long, and in the use of which the men were very expert. The women were always to be seen assisting their husbands, fathers, and brothers in their outdoor occupations, and sometimes accompanied them when they went out in their canoes to fish. Cooking and other housework, and taking care of the children, gave them daily employment. But their principal work, during the colder months of the year, was the making of native cloth.

This native cloth, or tappa, is made from the bark of the aute plant (pronounced outy), i. e., the paper mulberry, and has very much the nature and consistency of paper. The work is exceedingly laborious and wearisome, and when the yield of the plants is large, it sometimes occupies months in doing. Yet it was necessary to be done, as that material supplied nearly all the bedding used then.

When anyone not accustomed to sleeping beneath such noise-creating bedclothes tries it for the first time, the constant loud rustle that it makes generally succeeds in driving all sleep away. Captain Beechy spoke of sleeping in cloth that “seemed fresh from the loom,” as that was all that his entertainers could give him. Frequent washing and exposure to the sun will eventually deprive the material of its stiffness and noisiness, and in cold weather it affords a warm covering, as it excludes all air. It is colored a bright reddish brown, and rendered tougher by being dyed in the sap obtained from the doodooee (candlenut tree). This dye is made by steeping the bark of the doodooee in water.

In the early days this stiff, uncomfortable cloth was worn by all, with, perhaps, the exception of John Adams himself. By the women, pieces about a yard in width and two yards in length were fastened around the waist by simply crossing the two upper ends and turning them in to secure them. Another yard of the same material was thrown across the shoulders, as a covering to the body, and this constituted almost wholly their everyday garment. For Sunday wear each woman and girl owned a frock of most primitive make, being gathered in around the neck, and falling loosely from the shoulders, reaching a little below the knee. Underneath was a petticoat worn as described above, which completed the whole attire. The men and boys wore the waistcloth, almost exclusively, on week days. Sundays they donned their breeches, which did not reach to the knee, thus displaying the muscular growth of their limbs.

The frequent outdoor employments of both men and women resulted in a great muscular development of their physical frame, and rendered them strong and capable of enduring a vast amount of manual labor. Yet this did not deprive the female portion of the community of their feminine instincts, and all their womanly ways remained. Their children were brought up early to help in all the little homely duties that pertained to the house, as well as to aid their parents in field work; nor were they allowed to absent themselves from the school, where they were taught reading, writing, and arithmetic by John Buffett.

In 1828 George Hun Nobbs, accompanied by an American named Bunker, arrived at Pitcairn Island from Valparaiso. He had reached the last-mentioned place after having passed through several adventures, and while there heard for the first time the story of the Bounty, and how Pitcairn Island was settled by the descendants of the mutineers. The story so fascinated him that he determined, if it could be done, to reach the island and take up his residence with the inhabitants. Accordingly, obtaining possession of a launch, he, with Bunker, left Valparaiso, and in due time they reached their destination safely. Both these additions to their number received a cordial welcome from the inhabitants.

Nobbs did not long delay seeking to woo and win a wife; and, with some difficulty, at length succeeded in obtaining the hand of Sarah Christian, a granddaughter of Fletcher Christian. Bunker was not so fortunate, for Peggy Christian would not listen to his suit, and whether through unrequited love or a fit of temporary insanity is not known, but he attempted self-destruction by throwing himself headlong off a cliff. By some means the fall was broken, and his suicidal intentions were frustrated. He died, however, shortly after.

ROSA YOUNG. ARTHUR YOUNG.

JOHN YOUNG. SARAH YOUNG.

The launch on which the voyage of the two men was made was run ashore, broken up, and used in building Nobbs’ house. In giving an account of himself, Nobbs said that he was the “unacknowledged son of a marquis.” Being, by a superior education, better fitted than was John Buffett to fill the place of teacher among the youth of the island, Nobbs had not been long among them before he took charge of the school, taking the work almost entirely out of Buffett’s hands. Buffett was inclined to resent this act of Nobbs as a gross injustice, but the people in general favored the change, chiefly because of a grave fault which Buffett had committed. Yet some of the parents remained faithful in their allegiance to the teacher that had first come among them, and did not withdraw their children from his care, for, in spite of his fault, he endeavored to the best of his ability to perform his duty faithfully to them, while he sought to atone for the wrong he had done by a lifelong repentance.

The duty of officiating as pastor was also assumed by Nobbs. John Adams had by this time left the management of everything that concerned the progress and improvement of the people, in the hands of the two younger men. On the twenty-ninth day of March, 1829, the year following the arrival of Nobbs, the last of the Englishmen that came in the Bounty passed quietly and peacefully away, at the age of sixty-five years, deeply and sincerely mourned by the family over whom he had been so strangely placed. He survived the last of his companions twenty-nine years. A plain white stone marks his resting place, the inscription “In Hope” being placed beneath the simple record of his name, age, and death. The headstone was made in Devonport, England.

A year subsequent to the death of John Adams the Seringapatam, man-of-war, Captain Waldegrave, visited the island, bringing gifts of clothing and other useful presents to the islanders. Previous to that time the people, on account of their rapidly increasing numbers, had been considering whether the island, with its limited resources, would be adequate to their support and maintenance, not the least cause of anxiety being the scarcity of water. This condition of affairs was reported to the proper authorities, and an arrangement having been effected between the British Government and the authorities at Tahiti for a grant of land for the use of the Pitcairners in Tahiti, the Comet, sloop, Captain Sandilands, arrived at Pitcairn Island on the twenty-eighth day of February, 1831, as convoy to the Lucy Ann, which, on the seventh day of March, sailed for Tahiti, with the whole Pitcairn Island colony, and their small stock of movable goods, on board.

At the end of fourteen days the emigrants landed, having received a cordial welcome. But the experiment did not succeed. They had not been long in Tahiti when a malignant fever broke out amongst them and rapidly reduced their numbers. Fourteen of the people died in quick succession, and, notwithstanding the liberal provision made for their support by the kind-hearted people of Tahiti, the Pitcairners were anxiously desirous to return to their home. Then, too, the manners of the people among whom they now lived were so different from the pure, simple lives they led amongst themselves, and the open and undisguised immorality of some of the people around them rendered them very unhappy. In less than three weeks after their arrival at Tahiti an opportunity of returning presented itself, and Buffett and his family availed themselves of it. Four more of the young men accompanied them. The vessel that carried them called at Hood’s Island on the way, and there one of the four young men died. After the safe arrival home of the others, and before the rest of the community came, another of their number passed away.

Meanwhile, preparations were making at Tahiti for the return of the rest of the people. The schooner Charles Doggett was chartered to convey them to their home. A quantity of the Bounty’s copper had been carried to Tahiti, and this was given by the people to purchase the schooner, as it was all they were able to do; but liberal aid was given by generous friends in Tahiti, who raised a subscription to supply the deficiency. The return voyage occupied twenty-two days, the whole stay at Tahiti not extending over five months.

A pleasing incident is here recorded, illustrating the old Bible truth, “Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days.” During the sojourn of the Pitcairners at Tahiti, in the time of their deep sorrow and grief, when one and another of their number sickened and died, the second mate of an American whaleship, whose name was Coffin, learned of the dire distress that they suffered. Pitying their forlorn condition as strangers in a strange land, and obeying the impulse of a kind heart, he generously spent five dollars in procuring such food for those who were sick as he thought they would relish. Nor were the needs of the others forgotten. This act of disinterested Christian kindness was warmly remembered by all the people, and when, after nineteen years, the kind-hearted man came to Pitcairn as master of a ship, the people made him a present of ten barrels of yams, the cost of which was twenty dollars. This substantial proof of the recollection of his goodness toward them affected the captain to tears, and it was with difficulty that he could be prevailed upon to accept the gift, pleading that his former kindness might be allowed to pass unrewarded. But the people earnestly insisted upon his accepting what they considered but a small return for the unforgotten deed of kindness shown them in their extremity.

CHAPTER VII.

MR. JOSHUA HILL

A NEW chapter now opens in the history of this island. About the year 1832-33 it was favored with a new arrival, in the person of Joshua Hill. He was a man of excellent education, but stern in his nature, and a tyrannically strict disciplinarian. He reached the island by way of Tahiti, to which place he had come from Honolulu. In England he had heard the curious story of the little island in mid-ocean, and how it was peopled, and he left home for the purpose of coming amongst the islanders as their pastor and teacher, considering his age no obstacle, although he was about seventy years old. But he was forestalled by Nobbs.

It is only fair to acknowledge that at the time of his coming the condition of affairs on the island did not witness favorably to the management of those who were the acknowledged leaders. Like the Israelites in the times of the judges, “every man did what was right in his own eyes,” for, since the patriarchal rule of John Adams, no one had supplied, as he did, the place he held so long in the confidence, as well as the affection, of the people.

It excites a feeling of surprise that, in all the old man’s endeavors at reformation, he had allowed the old still, used by McCoy and Quintall, to continue its unholy, debasing work. But so it was; and at the time of Hill’s arrival, it was in constant operation, several of the men being addicted to the vice; nor were Nobbs and Buffett averse to “a wee drap on the sly.” Neither, since the removal to Tahiti, did all the people retain the beautiful, strict morality that had been their crowning virtue, as was proved in two cases; so that, altogether, the island stood in need of a general and thorough reformation.

Hill at once assumed the reins of government. His first step was to appoint four principal men to support him, to whom he gave the title of elders. These were supplemented by three sub-elders, and four cadets. The people at first willingly submitted to all his innovations, and, had he been as wise and prudent in the administration of his measures as he was zealous in having them performed, there is no question but that he would have accomplished such lasting good among the people as would have continued so long as they had a history. One fact will show that this was done, in spite of the many faults and errors that he committed during his brief term of leadership. To his honor be it recorded that through his untiring and energetic exertions the trouble-creating still was destroyed, and never after was its baleful work to be revived.

Hill professed to have been sent out by the English Government, which assertion, if not entirely false, was at least doubtful. He utterly ignored the presence of the other Englishmen, and succeeded only too well in influencing the islanders against them. But there was one exception. Charles Christian, a son of Fletcher Christian, whose many noble qualities endeared him to all, ever remained the staunch, unchanging friend of the persecuted Nobbs, Buffett, and Evans; and when, by Hill’s order, Buffett was publicly flogged, this true friend, hearing of the unjust and cruel treatment, hastened to the rescue, and, by his unflinching bravery and manly courage, succeeded in delivering the unhappy man from his hard-hearted and wicked tormentors. But this extreme measure was carried into effect after Hill’s rule had been fairly established.

Under his strict discipline everything worked fairly well at the start. But his too zealous eagerness to accomplish a reform led him to do what prudence and calm reason should have prevented. The following instance may serve as an example: Two women had set afloat some report concerning Hill, which, reaching his ears, he strongly resented. Immediate steps were taken to punish the offenders. A meeting was convened, consisting of the irate leader, his elders, sub-elders, and cadets, to pass judgment on the women. In the course of the meeting, they knelt for a few minutes while Hill prayed. Among the various petitions that he uttered, occurred this sentence: “If these women die the common death of all men, the Lord hath not sent me.” The prayer ended, but there was no response. Not one present, with the exception of Hill himself, would pronounce the “amen.” Nor was it to be expected that they would thus denounce the women who were nearly related to some of them. But their refusal to take part in the prayer enraged their leader still more, and, while he stood revealed before his followers in his true character, overzealous, revengeful, and tyrannical, the spell with which his influence had bound them was broken, and the hold he had obtained on the minds of some of them was forever lost.

Wrangling, quarreling, and abusive language were constantly kept up between the parties. Hill and his party, who were the stronger, caused the lives of the three other Englishmen to be daily embittered with hard treatment. Buffett in particular was forced to undergo severe punishment on account of a wrong done five or six years before Hill came. When Hill was informed of the matter, he considered it his duty to administer such penalty as would prove a wholesome lesson to Buffett in future. Nor would Nobbs have escaped were it not that at the time he was sick in bed, and Hill’s cruelty did not quite reach to the extent of flogging a sick man. Nobbs, who was poetical, wrote a lively epigram on Hill, in the closing lines of which he mentioned the erection of the gallows—

“With a Hill to enliven the scene.”

This at once met a retort, and thus the spirit of animosity was kept alive and never suffered to die.

PITCAIRN AVENUE.

The ill treatment to which the three Englishmen were constantly subjected at last reached a climax by their being forced to leave the island. Separated from their families, they were carried away on a schooner, the captain of which condemned Hill’s doings unsparingly, while to the exiled men he showed the utmost kindness. They were taken to Tahiti, but did not remain there long, as an opportunity was soon afforded them of returning to the home of their adoption. Arriving there, they took their families with them and left, Nobbs and Evans going as far as the Gambier Islands, while Buffett went on to Tahiti.

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.”

Beneath this Nobbs had placed his signature, “G. H. Nobbs, P. S. M.” Hill had taken the liberty to add as a postscript this quotation from Holy Writ: “Alas, master! for it was borrowed.” On Lord Russell’s asking an explanation of the three initial letters subjoined to the name of Nobbs, Hill readily replied that Nobbs intended them to mean “Pastor and Spiritual Master,” but, in his estimation, the correct rendering should be “Public Miscreant and Scoundrel.” These lively thrusts were given by each party until his lordship declared that the whole proceeding was too good to finish at one sitting, and the meeting adjourned to the following day.

On the second day his lordship’s decision was that Hill should be removed from the island as soon as possible, and the following year the Imogen arrived to carry that decision into effect. The first words spoken by her captain, when the boat from shore went off to the ship, were: “Is Joshua Hill still on the island? I am sent on purpose to remove him.” The next day, at an early hour, Hill, with his few possessions, was conveyed on board the Imogen, where cold looks awaited him. Friendless and alone in the midst of strangers, the old man stood on the deck of the vessel that was to bear him away. With all his faults, aggravated as they were, it is impossible not to feel a deep sympathy in his hour of adversity for the poor old man, who, through a mistaken, perverted zeal, had rendered himself obnoxious to those whom he undoubtedly, and with all honesty of purpose, wished to benefit. Thus passed out of the history of Pitcairn Island Joshua Hill, whose memory is still freshly retained by those who knew him, rather as being associated with harshness, severity, and tyranny, than like that of the just, whose memory “smells sweet and blossoms in the dust.”

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FLAG OF OLD ENGLAND

AFTER Mr. Hill’s removal, Mr. Nobbs, with the hearty consent of nearly all the people, assumed sole charge as pastor and schoolmaster. Under his benign rule peace once more reigned, and the former brotherliness between the families, that had been so fully established under John Adams, was once more as fully resumed. While Mr. Nobbs devoted himself to the higher needs of the people, combining with his other duties those of a physician (to the best of his ability), Buffett had resumed his old trade of cabinet work, which he confined to such articles as workboxes, writing desks, and chests of drawers of all sizes. The wood of the mero tree, which the soil of the island abundantly produced, supplied all the material needed in the darker shades. The timber is exceedingly close grained and hard, and when fully matured becomes changed in color from dark red to almost black, and takes polish beautifully. The bright yellow color of the wood of the white-flower tree was used for ornamenting, as it forms a pretty contrast with the other. Buffett also instructed those among the young men who showed any inclination to learn, and was highly gratified at seeing them display decided skill in the handiwork. John Evans, also, who wished to try his hand at the trade, came with the others to take lessons in practical work, and succeeded fairly well in the business.

Buffett, who was fond of a joke, used to relate how one day, when he was at work in his house, Evans came to him, bringing an unfinished workbox that he was making, in his hand. Setting the box down, he turned to Buffett, and began telling him how his work was almost a failure, and was likely to come to grief unless he obtained some much needed help from the master hand. “In fact, Buffett,” he said, “I just came over to ask you to give it a licking.” As soon as Evans had finished speaking, Buffett, without a word, took up the workbox, and, rapidly passing his tongue over its smooth surface, set it down again, saying, with a hearty laugh, “There is your box; I have given it a licking.” Astonished beyond expression, and indignant at having his request so literally fulfilled, Evans angrily snatched up the innocent cause of the joke, and was hastening away, when Buffett good-humoredly assured him that no offense was intended, and he was at length prevailed on, though reluctantly, to calm his ruffled feelings, and wait a few minutes until Buffett had given the necessary help he asked for.

While Nobbs gave instruction to the children in the schoolroom, Buffett proposed to establish a class for young men, to give them instruction in navigation and the more advanced branches of arithmetic, and, in addition to these, studies upon such subjects of general information as they could obtain through the medium of books, though of these they had only a very limited supply. The more thoughtful among the young men eagerly availed themselves of even this chance of improvement, and organized themselves into a band, with Buffett at their head, who gave the name “Mutual Improvement Society” to their class. While it lasted, it was well attended, and most, if not all, of the members derived lasting benefit therefrom.

While Nobbs and Buffett were engaged in pursuits so congenial to them, the necessary cultivation of their allotments of land was performed by their wives and children, and whoever of their neighbors that would willingly assist. They themselves did but a trifling portion of the work. Evans, on the other hand, seemed to possess a natural liking for the soil and its cultivation, in which work he was aided by his strong and healthy wife.

It was now forty-seven years since the island had been settled, and in all that time no rules had been enacted for the government of the people. Conscience sometimes, and more frequently inclination, ruled them. But this state of things was about to be ended.

GROUP OF NATIVE MEN.

In the year 1838 Her Majesty’s ship Fly came on a visit, and for the first time, to the evident satisfaction and pleasure of the islanders, the flag of Old England was hoisted on Pitcairn Island, Captain Elliott observing, “You are now under the protection of the English flag.” From that time until the entire community was removed to Norfolk Island, they were annually visited by one or more of Her Majesty’s ships of war.

Captain Elliott also strongly advised the people to have written laws by which they might be governed, and, further, to appoint a magistrate from among themselves to enforce those laws. Mr. Hill had also spoken strongly about the necessity and importance of such a step being taken, but his advice had not been acted upon. The captain’s proposal was received differently, everybody being willing to carry out any plans that he thought would be best for them. Their unanimous choice fell upon the youngest son of Quintall, whose strong common sense and really excellent abilities recommended him as the fittest person to be nominated. When Hill first came among the people, Quintall attracted his particular notice, and Hill constituted him his chief elder. The two men possessed many similar traits of character, and on no point were they more agreed than in the intense dislike to the three other Englishmen. That Quintall could be a staunch friend was proved by the fact that he stood by Hill to the last, when everyone else had deserted him. In after years the intermarriages that took place between his own children and those of Nobbs and Buffett were evident proofs that they did not share their father’s prejudices.

Like Hill, he, too, when aroused by anger, was capable of committing deeds of cruelty, as the following story will show. Engaged in a dispute one day with John Evans, both men lost control over themselves, and began to abuse one another. The quarrel increased, and Quintall, being a powerful man, brought it to a termination by lifting Evans, who was small, as easily as he would a child, and throwing him violently into a pigsty, thereby causing him serious injury. This wicked act was recorded in the register of those times, for it was customary to enter therein every occurrence, however trivial, and whenever a case occurred which could not be satisfactorily adjusted by the local authorities, it was usual to postpone it until the arrival of a ship of war, to whose captain the matter was referred for decision. It was so in this case, but the fact that the perpetrator of the deed was at the time laid on his sick bed, from which he never again arose, prevented his receiving his just deserts, and so the passing of the sentence awaited a higher tribunal than that of earth.

A more pleasing theme than the story just related was the arrival of the first missionary vessel that ever called at the island. This was the Camden, which was sent out by the London Missionary Society. In her missionary visits to the various islands of the Pacific, she made a brief call at Pitcairn Island, having but one missionary on board, a Mr. Heath. The Camden’s stay extended only to four days, during which time Mr. Heath gave two public addresses, and held several meetings in Mr. Nobbs’ house. Captain Morgan, who commanded the vessel, also delivered an impressive discourse from the text, “My son, give me thine heart.” A good supply of Bibles was left on the island, enough for each family to have one. Captain Morgan also sent out from England, on his arrival there, a box of books, schoolbooks as well as religious publications, and slates and pencils for the use of the school. These were all thankfully received, as they supplied a very pressing want, especially the last-named gifts.

In the year 1841 Christian’s widow died. Her name, given by the Englishmen, was Isabella, but as Christian himself had dubbed her “Mainmast,” this latter name was the one by which she was exclusively called, only it was abbreviated to “Mai’mas’.” She was of very advanced age when she died, but to the last retained vivid recollections of the events of earlier years, and used often to relate to her attentive listeners the story of Captain Cook’s visit to the Society Islands. Once when he was in Tahiti he was suffering from a severe attack of rheumatism. Some of the Tahitian women took him in hand, and effected a cure by means of the native remedy. This consisted of a preparation of the a’pi-plant (arum gigantum) which was externally applied to the part or parts affected. The painful, stinging properties of the plant (compared to which the sting of the nettle is almost enjoyable) would seem to lead one to decide in favor of the rheumatism, as this remedy seems certainly worse than the disease. But Mainmast declared that the dreadful remedy cured Captain Cook. This old woman’s death left but one more remaining of the original party that came in the Bounty, thus severing, link by link, the tie that bound the younger portion of the community to those who originally settled the colony.

Scarcely anything occurred to disturb the tranquil round of life that the inhabitants enjoyed, and day after day passed along in quiet monotony, broken only by the arrival of some passing ship. The “event” of every year was the visit of a man-of-war.

About the year 1847 an accident befell Mr. Nobbs’ eldest son, which nearly proved fatal. He, in company with some other young men, had one day gone out to hunt goats. As they were returning home, Reuben Nobbs slipped and fell. The loaded gun he carried was instantly discharged, most of its contents being lodged in his right hip, while the ball passed entirely through. He was brought home, and his father attended him. Month after month passed, and, although he did not grow worse there still was no perceptible improvement. When the next man-of-war came, the Spy, her surgeon examined the wound, and, probing it, extracted large pieces of wadding, the presence of which had prevented recovery. After that the cure was rapid, and the young man was soon able to walk with the help of a crutch. But the result was a lameness that unfitted him for such work as life on the island required, and, as he had good business abilities, his father, who had friends in Valparaiso, wrote to them asking if they would kindly obtain for his son some means of gaining a living. The answer was favorable, and in due time Reuben Nobbs arrived at Valparaiso, to begin his duties as clerk in a commercial establishment. He was cordially received, and, by a diligent application to work, and the determination to please his employers, he succeeded not only in learning to do that which was required of him, but also in giving entire satisfaction to his employers during his whole stay.

CHAPTER IX.

THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY

THE year 1848 is remembered as the first year when the 24th of May, the Queen’s birthday, was kept as a holiday. The young men, with Mr. Nobbs at their head, started the celebration. The Bounty’s old gun was made to do duty on the occasion in firing a salute in honor of Her Majesty, and every old musket that could be put to such a use, with as heavy charges as could be carried, was pressed into service to assist the Bounty’s gun in making all the noise possible. The one bell on the island was kept ringing merrily, while, to add to the other sounds, cheer after cheer rang from the throats of the whole community, who had assembled to show loyalty to their sovereign.

The bell was a gift presented to the islanders in 1844 by the people on board the Basilisk, man-of-war, to be used for calling the worshipers to church. For years a bugle horn had been used for this purpose, and when that wore out, a musket took its place, one shot being fired as the hour for divine service approached. The musket was in use at the time of the Basilisk’s visit. The beautiful, deep-toned bell, that was so thoroughly appreciated, at once displaced the discordant old musket, but never had it rung so merrily, nor so long, as when it lent its aid to celebrate the Queen’s birthday.

But, with all the noise they were able to produce, they felt that something important was lacking. They had no song suitable for the great occasion. The national anthem was then unknown, and what were they to do in this dilemma? Fortunately, the question did not long remain unanswered. The loyal-hearted and enthusiastic Mr. Nobbs proved himself equal to the occasion. A song was quickly composed, and heartily, if not harmoniously, sung by the untrained voices of the islanders, to the tune of “The Girl I Left behind Me.” The concluding stanza—

“We’ll fire the gun, the Bounty’s gun,

And set the bell a-ringing,

And give three cheers for England’s Queen,

And three for Pitcairn’s Island,”

was followed by a succession of ringing cheers, repeated until the hills echoed again with the sound.

The memory of that day, with all its noise and merriment, and the simple pleasures that were so thoroughly enjoyed, was kept fresh in the minds of the women, who determined not to be outdone by the men. Accordingly, they made what preparations they could for their celebration, when the day came around again.

Let me tell you first something about the dress of the women of that period. They no longer wore exclusively, Sundays as well as week days, the homely frock gathered into a band around the throat, and beneath this frock a scant petticoat such as had been worn since they had known the use of the needle. Gradually, gowns, long waisted and bone ribbed, after the patterns sent on shore by ship captains’ wives, and also from time to time sent to the island by friends in England and elsewhere, took the place, for Sunday wear, of the primitive frock that had been worn so long.

Every woman’s ambition was to possess a gown, and, notwithstanding the difficulties attending the cutting and fitting, each one was supplied, the more elderly women wearing a pattern differing somewhat from that which the younger women wore. Mr. Nobbs did what he could to advance the tastes of the women in regard to dress, and upon his wife devolved the dreadful task of cutting and fitting, made thus dreadful because there was no previous knowledge of the art; and several days would elapse before even one garment would be ready for the needle. Fortunately, some of the younger women were quick to learn, and, in spite of limited advantages, they were soon able to take the burden from Mrs. Nobbs’ hands. Occasionally help was given them by some of the ship captains’ wives that visited the island. Knitting was also taught by them, but soon became a lost art.

THE ISLAND SAWMILL.

On the Queen’s birthday in question, the matrons and maidens decided to dress in their best—white gowns preferred—and spend the day as their fancy led them. One old grandmother proposed that a knot of white ribbon be worn on the left shoulder, which was done, strips of cloth supplying the place of ribbons. When the twenty-fourth day of May arrived, cloudless and beautiful, it was greeted with loud and loyal cheers from all, while the women and girls rose with the dawn to array themselves in honor of the day, and surprise their husbands and brothers, fathers and lovers, with their display, as all their preparations had been kept secret.

The men were invited to come and join in the merrymaking, and they obeyed with alacrity. All work was laid aside, and everyone entered heartily into the sports and games that followed. The older women attended to the babies and prepared the early supper, the materials for which had been supplied beforehand. After the plentiful repast, all were at liberty to enjoy themselves as they pleased. The daughters of the mutineers, being now themselves the grandmothers, entered with zest into the sports, and contributed not a little to the general entertainment by reviving many of the games learned from their Tahitian mothers.

They introduced into their games and sports the beating of calabashes with sticks, performed with extreme precision, to which the players kept time, moving with noiseless step and an easy grace that was pleasing to witness. This performance was called the ihara. Another native dance, the uri, was performed by Susannah, the girl of fifteen who came in the Bounty, now an old woman of seventy-four, and blind in one eye. She displayed remarkable liveliness in honor of the Queen’s birthday, and her performance provoked mirth from the younger people, who had never seen the dance before. This old woman died in the September following, 1850, at the age of seventy-five, being the last survivor of those who came to the island from Tahiti sixty years before.

The merry players kept up the dancing to a late hour. What mattered if most of them danced with bare feet; that did not affect their light-heartedness and happiness. A drum and tambourine supplied all the music they wanted. The island boasted one fiddle, but no one considered himself sufficiently expert in the use of the bow to volunteer his services. At last the simple enjoyments of the day ended, only to linger in the memory as a bright and pleasing recollection.

The singing of the islanders had been improved as the years passed. When John Adams had the sole care of the young community, he did not neglect entirely the training of their voices, although the result was not all that could be wished. He succeeded in impressing on their memories one simple and plaintive air, which, slightly modified, was made to suit either common, short, or long meter. This was the only attempt at singing made by the islanders until Buffett came amongst them. The ninety-fifth psalm of Watts’ Version was a great favorite among the people, and that to which John Adams’ tune was oftenest sung.[4] Buffett soon sought to introduce at least a change of tunes into the services of the church, and, being gifted with a good voice, he managed, with the help of an accordion, to lead the people a few steps further on. A book of church music given him at Tahiti supplied a variety of tunes, but nothing more was attempted than the simple air. Nor were the tunes sung in unison, as the following incident will show.

[4] It was a custom with the three daughters of John Adams, even until advanced age, to meet together, and read a portion of God’s word. They would unfailingly close their devotions by singing the tune their father taught them. A stanza from the second psalm, which they always sang, found in the Scottish Bibles, seems peculiarly associated with the plaintive air. It is as follows:—

“A sure decree I will declare,—

The Lord has said to me,

‘Thou art my only Son; this day

Have I begotten thee.’”