’Desertions have happened, more or less, from most of the ships that have been at the Society Islands; but it has always been in the commander’s power to make the chiefs return their people; the knowledge, therefore, that it was unsafe to desert, perhaps first led mine to consider with what ease so small a ship might be surprised, and that so favourable an opportunity would never offer to them again.

’The secrecy of this mutiny is beyond all conception.  Thirteen of the party, who were with me, had always lived forward among the seamen; yet neither they, nor the messmates of Christian, Stewart, Heywood, and Young, had ever observed any circumstance that made them in the least suspect what was going on.  To such a close-planned act of villainy, my mind being entirely free from any suspicion, it is not wonderful that I fell a sacrifice.  Perhaps, if there had been marines on board, a sentinel at my cabin-door might have prevented it; for I slept with the door always open, that the officer of the watch might have access to me on all occasions, the possibility of such a conspiracy being ever the farthest from my thoughts.  Had their mutiny been occasioned by any grievances, either real or imaginary, I must have discovered symptoms of their discontent, which would have put me on my guard; but the ease was far otherwise.  Christian, in particular, I was on the most friendly terms with:  that very day he was engaged to have dined with me; and the preceding night he excused himself from supping with me, on pretence of being unwell; for which I felt concerned, having no suspicions of his integrity and honour.’

Such is the story published by Lieutenant Bligh immediately on his return to England, after one of the most distressing and perilous passages over nearly four thousand miles of the wide ocean, with eighteen persons, in an open boat.  The story obtained implicit credit; and though Lieutenant Bligh’s character never stood high in the navy for suavity of manners or mildness of temper, he was always considered as an excellent seaman, and his veracity stood unimpeached.  But in this age of refined liberality, when the most atrocious criminals find their apologists, it is not surprising it should now be discovered, when all are dead that could either prove or disprove it, that it was the tyranny of the commander alone, and not the wickedness of the ringleader of the mutineers of the Bounty, that caused that event.  ‘We all know,’ it is said, ’that mutiny can arise but from one of these two sources, excessive folly or excessive tyranny; therefore’—­the logic is admirable—­’as it is admitted that Bligh was no idiot, the inference is obvious.’[6] If this be so, it may be asked to which of the two causes must be ascribed the mutiny at the Nore, etc.?  The true answer will be, to neither.  ‘Not only,’ continues the writer, ’was the narrative which he published proved to be false in many material bearings, by evidence before a court-martial, but every act of his public life after this event, from his successive command of the Director, the Glatton, and the Warrior, to his disgraceful expulsion from New South Wales,—­was stamped with an insolence, an inhumanity, and coarseness, which fully developed his character.’