Hell's Fire Page 17

  ‘Your letter said you were much distressed,’ prompted Sir Joseph.

  ‘Distressed!’ picked up Bligh, immediately halting, embarrassed. He’d shouted, he realised. And he’d determined to control his wrath.

  ‘Indeed, sir,’ he began again, speaking with difficulty. ‘For more than a year I have sailed around the world ensuring the continued prosperity of the most important men of this country; men already rich will make millions more from what I’ve done. Yet I arrive in Greenwich to be greeted by your clerk in the manner of a man returning from some ignominious defeat. I go to my home to find my wife in tears, the butt of jokes and humiliation and the Blighs the practical outcasts of London …’

  Sir Joseph sat shaking his head, sadly. He had been wrong in not going to Greenwich, he accepted. Already it had become yet another rumour against Bligh. The government had quite misjudged the effect an official welcome would have upon public opinion after the interest generated by the Portsmouth affair.

  ‘… and yesterday I requested a meeting with the First Lord of the Admiralty, Lord Chatham. He refused to see me …’

  ‘There could be a number of acceptable reasons,’ Sir Joseph tried to placate. ‘I know Lord Chatham is a much occupied man.’

  ‘Too busy to see me,’ said Bligh. ‘Yet not too busy to receive my junior, Lieutenant Portlock.’

  Banks grimaced at the rebuff.

  ‘Why, sir?’ demanded Bligh. ‘Why am I being exposed to such ridicule? Why can’t I go down to give evidence, at the court martial? It’s ridiculous that I’m being denied permission.’

  It was madness, accepted Sir Joseph. Even the younger Pitt had agreed the stupidity, yet appeared unwilling to impose his will.

  ‘The enquiry was already well under way,’ said Sir Joseph, the excuse prepared. ‘The Admiralty had little hope you’d return during the hearing. For you to be called now would mean reconvening another court martial, with new officers … It could take weeks, if not months. Your deposition is sufficient, surely?’

  ‘No, sir,’ rejected Bligh, adamantly. ‘It’s not sufficient and well we both know it. There’s a campaign being built against me. A campaign of unjustified vilification and abuse, blatantly the work of the damned Christian family.’

  ‘They appear implacable in their determination to retrieve the family name,’ conceded Sir Joseph.

  ‘The man was a villain,’ insisted Bligh, his face purpling. ‘Even the poxed enquiry at Portsmouth is proving that. Is it British justice to have a felon glorified and his victim castigated, without right of reply?’

  It was an impossible argument to answer, thought Sir Joseph. Certainly the evidence being daily discussed by the government didn’t have right and wrong balanced in such positive terms as they appeared to exist in Bligh’s mind. But Fletcher Christian was appearing the undoubted ringleader of the insurrection.

  Sir Joseph stood up, determined to mollify the man he admired.

  ‘Come now, Captain Bligh,’ he said, smoothly. ‘Hardly castigating. And if any evidence were needed of your country’s regard for you, then surely this will provide it?’

  He offered the box to Bligh, who stared at it, his face twisting in renewed annoyance.

  ‘The medal,’ identified Sir Joseph, hopefully. ‘The Royal Society gold medal, commemorating the success of your mission. Further, I’m proud to say the Society is electing you into its membership.’

  ‘Here!’ protested Bligh. ‘To be given to me here, like a gratuity for a coachman for a successful journey!’

  Another mistake, recriminated Sir Joseph. The man’s outrage was justified.

  ‘The King and the government are greatly occupied by the revolution in France,’ apologised Sir Joseph, guessing the man’s need.

  Bligh held the box loosely in his hand, uninterested.

  ‘The Christians,’ he said, softly. ‘The infernal Christian family.’

  ‘It’s a passing sensation,’ assured Sir Joseph. ‘London exists on gossip, the more scandalous the more acceptable. Is it likely that what’s happening down there can have a lasting effect upon a man of your achievements?’

  Bligh shook his head, refusing the flattery.

  ‘William Bligh doesn’t avoid conflict, sir,’ he said, without conceit. ‘I thought that, at least, would have been clear by now.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ frowned Sir Joseph.

  ‘There isn’t a coffee house or a salon in London that doesn’t have one of the pamphlets … they’re everywhere.’

  ‘But what can you do?’ demanded his patron.

  ‘Fight,’ retorted Bligh, positively. ‘If London society is minded to read, then so be it. Edward Christian is determined to publish his account of the affair, so now I shall publish mine. I shall answer the smears and innuendo, point for point, showing them to be what they are, lies and falsifications from a family unable to accept the existence of a cowardly blackguard bearing their name …’

  Sir Joseph shook his head.

  ‘Think on it, sir,’ he warned. ‘What can possibly be achieved by a public quarrel of this nature?’

  ‘The restitution of my honour,’ replied Bligh, immediately. ‘Do you expect me to sit idly by, becoming the joke of this city?’

  ‘The public already knows your side of the affair,’ avoided Sir Joseph.

  ‘Then they need reminding of it again,’ asserted Bligh. ‘I’ll not have my Betsy laughed at by women not good enough to be her laundry-maid. But for me, half the families in London would be facing bankruptcy and a debtor’s cell in Newgate. What right have they got to laugh at me?’

  ‘None,’ agreed Sir Joseph, sincerely. ‘And neither do they.’

  ‘Oh yes, sir,’ contradicted Bligh. ‘They do and well you know it … and the manner of my return serves only to heighten that ridicule.’

  Amends had to be made, decided Sir Joseph. The man was being wrongly pilloried, no matter what his suspected faults. And that suspicion was only being created by clever innuendo, certainly not by facts.

  ‘I believe,’ blurted Sir Joseph, hurriedly, ‘that the King is shortly to receive guests at the White House at Kew. The government is preparing a guest list. I believe your name features upon it, sir. Won’t that allay the gossip?’

  Bligh shrugged. Sincerity? he wondered. Or a belated attempt to recover from treatment the government now recognised was in error?

  Pitt would be furious at the undertaking, Sir Joseph knew. But it was a problem that would have to be overcome. Bligh deserved the proper recognition, no matter how imprudent the invitation might be. To Pitt everything was politics, the pull and sway of advantage. That’s why he’d remained in power for so long.

  ‘I must assure you, sir, that the pressure of Royal Society work kept me away from Greenwich,’ lied Sir Joseph. ‘I now acknowledge that was a mistake, for which I am truly contrite. Rest assured that the London Gazette will carry the necessary information about your receiving the Society medal and of your appointment.’

  ‘I’m minded to prepare a reply to the slanders being put against my name,’ insisted Bligh, doggedly.

  Sir Joseph sighed. It wouldn’t help, he decided. In fact the man risked further humiliation attempting to out-argue an advocate as brilliant as Edward Christian. And Sir Joseph had no more doubt than Bligh that it was the mutineer’s brother who was behind the present campaign. Some stories even had the man in residence in Portsmouth.

  ‘I feel it is a mistake,’ he cautioned.

  ‘We’ll see, we’ll see,’ said Bligh, briskly. Characteristically, once having decided upon a course of action, he was already convinced of its successful conclusion. Logic was on his side, determined Bligh. Who could fail to accept his side of the affair, once reminded of the true facts, not the distorted account that was being brought out at Portsmouth and published with such delight by his enemies?

  ‘You’ll not be dissuaded?’ asked Sir Joseph.

  ‘Not unless I can be permitted to attend personally at Portsmouth,’
said Bligh, bringing his threat into the open.

  ‘The government feels it would be a mistake.’

  ‘Then the government must be prepared for me to defend myself.’

  It was only when he was in the carriage returning home that Bligh realised he had forgotten to raise the problem of money with Sir Joseph. He sighed, dismissing the oversight. It had hardly been the proper occasion, anyway, he rationalised. Far better to wait until he had published his rebuttal of the lies being spread. The approach would be viewed far more sympathetically once he was in favour again. And he would be, he knew. Very soon. He frowned, reflecting upon the meeting. He had failed to get answers to nearly all his questions, he realised. Sir Joseph was an adept politician.

  Bligh hoped his patron’s ability would work to his ends.

  The verdict of the court martial was very clear, determined Lord Hood, complacently. He’d conducted a good enquiry, he decided, only half listening as the gunner, William Peckover, moved towards the conclusion of his evidence. A very good enquiry indeed. And everyone recognised it. So there could be no criticism. And that was important. Rarely could he recall such interest in a naval matter.

  They would have to acquit the sightless violinist, Byrn, together with Coleman and Norman, he knew. All the evidence showed them to be innocent. About four of the accused there could be no doubt whatsoever. From every witness had come support for Bligh’s deposition that Ellison, Birkitt, Millward and Muspratt had been among the most active mutineers, armed, violent and behind Fletcher Christian in everything he did. For them it would be the yardarm. And quickly.

  The intensity of public opinion, spurred on by what Bligh was doing, had surprised not only the President. The Admiralty were aware of it, too. And alarmed that it was almost unanimously critical of the authority represented by Bligh. Unquestionably, conceded Hood, that criticism was justified. But it was clouding the indisputable fact that a crime had been committed. A public hanging was needed to balance the affair, not a coffee-house squabble.

  About Heywood and Morrison there was a lot of doubt, he thought, coming back to the court. Certainly there had been some conflicting evidence that Heywood had been seen with a pistol in his hand, but the explanation from the boy that he’d snatched it up unthinkingly, in the confusion of the moment, to put it down again within seconds was acceptable. From no one had come any indication that he was a supporter of Christian; he’d been a boy of little more than fifteen, after all, hardly responsible for his actions unless guided by a superior.

  And Morrison, too, had made a convincing case. He’d actually indicated to Fryer that he would support any attempt to retake the vessel, recalled the President. And but for him, the launch would have sailed away without any weapons.

  No, considered Hood, about Heywood and Morrison there was more than sufficient doubt. Not sufficient to acquit them, of course. But enough to recommend to the Admiralty that the strongest mercy should be shown towards them. And he’d personally reinforce it, to Lord Chatham, First Lord of the Admiralty. He smiled at the decision. It would enable the Admiralty to follow a course that might appeal to public taste. And they were anxious for that, he knew.

  He became aware that Peckover had stopped talking and straightened in his chair. He had few questions of his own, he realised, but felt sure the Christian family spy would be well briefed. He nodded permission and Bunyan rose, with his customary eagerness.

  ‘You knew Mr Christian well enough?’ demanded Bunyan.

  ‘Well enough.’

  ‘Come now, Mr Peckover. Captain Bligh appointed you the man in Tahiti through whom the trading with the natives should be conducted. It meant you lived alongside Mr Christian for the six months he was shore commander there.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Peckover.

  ‘Did you get on well with him?’

  ‘Not particularly,’ said Peckover.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He was not the sort of man I drew to.’

  ‘Would you explain that to the court?’

  ‘… I thought of him as a lickspittle …’ Peckover attempted to explain. ‘He seemed altogether too keen for advancement.’

  ‘Lickspittle to whom?’ queried Bunyan.

  ‘Captain Bligh,’ replied Peckover, shortly.

  ‘He was second-in-command,’ reminded Bunyan. ‘Wasn’t it natural he should spend time in the captain’s company?’

  ‘I don’t sec how anyone could have happily spent as much time with him as Mr Christian did.’

  Bunyan smiled at the admission.

  ‘Your feelings towards Mr Christian,’ qualified the lawyer, ‘are tempered, are they not, by those you have towards the captain?’

  Peckover shrugged, truculently. They wouldn’t twist him, like they had Fryer and Purcell.

  ‘Isn’t your attitude towards Mr Christian one of not being able to understand how he could be able, for part of the voyage at least, to remain a friend of Captain Bligh?’ pressed the lawyer.

  ‘Yes,’ conceded Peckover.

  ‘You used the word “happily”,’ reminded Bunyan. ‘Do you really think that Mr Christian was happy at the amount of time he had to spend in Captain Bligh’s company … or do you think he attended because he saw his future promotion dependent upon it, until the captain’s behaviour became such that even he couldn’t stand it any longer?’

  ‘He appeared quite contented on the outward voyage,’ refused Peckover.

  ‘As we have already heard,’ accepted Bunyan. ‘But what happened at the end of that voyage … in Tahiti? There was hardly anyone closer to him than you, at that time.’

  ‘Life on Tahiti was very different from anything any of us had ever experienced,’ recalled Peckover, smiling at the memory. ‘Not one man aboard had known the like of landing at a more amazing place … women would actually snatch out for you …’

  ‘And what was Mr Christian’s reaction to that?’ interrupted Bunyan, anxious to direct the man’s thoughts.

  Peckover shook his head.

  ‘There never was such a man as Mr Christian for women,’ he said. ‘In every port it was always the same. In Tahiti it was two women a night, more often than not. It was like a farmyard …’

  ‘And the captain didn’t like such behaviour from his immediate officer?’

  Peckover hesitated at the question.

  ‘There appeared no dispute at first …’ he recalled.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Captain Bligh was much occupied in getting the breadfruit. He had mind for little else, so the ship and men were left alone.’

  ‘So the criticisms came later.’

  ‘Things had changed by then.’

  ‘Changed? How?’

  ‘Mr Christian had met one particular woman,’ said the gunner. ‘Her name was Mauatua, but he called her Isabella, after a relation of his, here in England.’

  ‘What was his relationship with this woman?’

  ‘He settled down completely …’ remembered Peckover. ‘Told me he considered himself married. I recall I was surprised in the change in such a man …’

  ‘What was the captain’s reaction to this?’ pressed Bunyan.

  ‘It was about this time that the arguments began,’ said Peckover. ‘Rarely a day passed without there being some dispute between them.’

  ‘When the second-in-command was rutting … to use your own expression, like an animal in a farmyard, Captain Bligh had no complaint. Yet when he reverted to a somewhat unusual but nevertheless settled relationship with one woman, the captain found fault. I don’t understand,’ prompted the lawyer.

  ‘Captain Bligh was never a predictable man,’ reminded the witness.

  ‘Did Mr Christian talk to you about this?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Peckover, shaking his head. ‘I told you, there was no great friendship between Mr Christian and me.’

  ‘Did he confide in anybody?’

  ‘Not that I know,’ said Peckover. ‘He just withdrew more and more with the woman … he di
d say one thing, though. He told me once that he’d never been so happy and that nothing Captain Bligh could do or say would upset him …’

  ‘Then how did he appear to you on that morning when he came to relieve you from watch?’ pounced Bunyan.

  ‘Very wild, sir,’ accepted Peckover. ‘I’ve heard people at this enquiry use the word demented and upon reflection that justly describes the state Mr Christian was in that morning … he was badly out of sorts …’

  ‘So somehow Captain Bligh had upset him?’

  ‘That remark was made to me in Tahiti, when he had the woman,’ corrected Peckover. ‘But she had been left behind.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that Mr Christian seized a ship and cast eighteen men adrift because he could not bear to be parted from a woman to whom he was not legally married?’ demanded Bunyan. ‘Are you saying he did it for love?’

  Peckover paused, considering the reply.

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ he said.

  ‘What was it, Mr Peckover? What was it that drove Mr Christian first to think of desertion and then to mutiny?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ repeated the man. ‘I don’t think anyone does.’

  Bligh might have known, reflected the President, at the top table. Arrangements should have been made to examine the man, now that he was back in England. The Admiralty and the government were being stupid.

  Still, that was their decision, not his.

  Edward Christian was grey with fatigue, Bunyan saw, so tired that he had difficulty in holding a thought longer than a few seconds and his conversation was rambling and forgetful.

  It was hardly surprising, decided the younger lawyer. The man could not have had more than two hours’ sleep a night since the commencement of the enquiry and sometimes had even abandoned that in his anxiety to publish an account of the court martial.