In 1966, at the Botanical Gardens of St. Vincent in the Caribbean, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II replanted a breadfruit cloned from one of Bligh’s original trees: the sovereign was endeavoring to focus attention upon Britain’s more successful follow-up expedition in HMS Providence. The sensation attached to the failure of the Bounty expedition had all but erased the successes of Bligh’s second attempt in 1791-93. Until now both voyages have been reported as having a single aim – to fetch and carry breadfruit plants. This is not accurate; it was never so simple as that. If Bligh’s Providence voyage was successful, it was not due to landing plants at St. Vincent and Jamaica, it was for discovering a navigable passage linking the Coral and Arafura seas. Promoted and organized by Joseph Banks, the essential objectives of both expeditions were to gain a strategic advantage over French designs on Tahiti and to survey a passage through Torres Strait – the latter being important for servicing Britain’s new settlement at New South Wales.
The object of this book is to examine evidence that has come to light, to re-look at all the accounts, to explore every possibility, to see if Bligh had deliberately fomented unrest on the Bounty. A chance discovery in 1984 led the author to compare published information against scientific findings applicable to the physiology of the breadfruit plant. Using botany as a forensic tool, evidence reveals that Vice-Admiral William Bligh, as he became, and the celebrated English naturalist, Sir Joseph Banks, had suppressed details of the expedition that would have been detrimental to their careers and State affairs. The author puts both players on trial and after exhaustive scrutiny, the study concludes that there was a conspiracy and that incriminating details had been whitewashed. The new evidence will be difficult to deny. It inverts all previous tenets about this most celebrated of all naval enquiries.
WHAT IS NEW AND DIFFERENT ABOUT CONSPIRACY ON THE BOUNTY
A question of intent:
Many writers have claimed that Bligh was the cause of the mutiny, yet none had suggested he might have intentionally caused it: his moral integrity was never questioned; at least not openly and publicly. There are differing possibilities on the question of intent: one is that Bligh had carelessly, indifferently, planted the seeds of discord that led Christian to mutiny, another that the mutiny was an outcome that Bligh considered and desired and he had intuitively encouraged its development; alternatively, it was a recognizable objective he consciously and earnestly pursued. The first is an unpremeditated measure, the second and third are premeditated courses of action. Either premeditated version was a heinous crime and had Bligh been found guilty of such involvement, he almost certainly would have been executed for it. But Bligh was too clever for that. He deceived us all. He even sought favors for the imposition the mutiny caused him, and he got them, in fact he was richly rewarded for the experience, which alone should arouse suspicions. Of all the Bounty’s men, Bligh suffered the least and profited the most. It is puzzling that the question of intent has never been focused upon. One reason for its omission would be the apparent lack of a strong enough motive; another for want of incriminatory evidence; yet another has been the conservative approach by writers. But as we shall see, Bligh did have a powerful motive and the evidence has always been out there.
The breadfruit expeditions:
The Conspiracy is not a rework of the Bounty legend, for the first time it brings science in to investigate the Bounty’s famous cargo of plants. There was nothing vital about the breadfruit itself; breadfruit was an expedient component in a strategy to colonize the Society Islands before the French did the same. A warship dressed up as a peace ship collecting plants for slaves, the Bounty was no more than a forward scout in a quest to occupy Tahiti. In 1791 the Admiralty outfitted the Providence and the Assistant for a similar strategic venture. Bligh was put in command of the Providence and Lieutenant Portlock was in command of the Assistant. The breadfruit expeditions were an effectual part of British colonial diplomacy; they were all about territorial contention that existed between France and England in the Pacific arena near the time of the colonization of New South Wales. To discover the truth about the mutiny, the author has delved into the Pandora’s fateful voyage, and particularly Bligh’s return to Tahiti in the Providence. In contrast to staid conventional approach, he concentrates upon the need to obtain breadfruit; what it was that propelled the breadfruit politic; Banks’s management of the expeditions; why Bligh made no physical attempt to suppress the mutiny, and what most likely would have occurred had there been no mutiny, and Bligh had continued on his way.
The breadfruit lie:
The author discloses that in order to achieve the goals of Empire, Banks perpetrated what is referred to as ‘the-big-breadfruit-lie’. Part of that lie was a claim that planters in British sugar colonies desperately required Tahitian breadfruit to solve food shortages. Another part of the lie was that only at Tahiti could be found the best kinds of breadfruit when in fact, Banks realized that breadfruit of an equal or superior kind were more easily obtainable in areas nearby to East Indiaman trunk routes. It is also explained how the slaves preferred a species of seeded Malay breadfruit, one nutritionally familiar to an African breadfruit. Prior to Bligh’s introductions English botanists had already obtained Malay breadfruit from French colleagues and were propagating it in their gardens at St Vincent and Jamaica; the same botanical gardens where Bligh was ordered to deliver his supposedly unequaled Tahitian transplants.
Forensics:
The author introduces scientific evidence that proves conclusively, from the day Bligh’s gardeners began collecting their plants, until the day of the mutiny, Bligh had constantly lied about the condition of the transplants. In fact the gardeners had faced insurmountable technical difficulties. In the days leading up to the mutiny, their breadfruit transplants were either withering or had already died; they were not the least bit ‘flourishing’ as Bligh claimed they were. The possibility that Bligh’s breadfruit might have had something to do with peculiar events occurring before the mutiny had never been probed before. One thing which Bligh did not want to publicize, was not only did he lose his cargo of 1015 breadfruits on the ill-fated Bounty; he also lost 1525 of the ones he took in the Providence. During the six-month return voyage of the Providence, even with the best of care by the gardeners, the number of breadfruits to die at sea was well over two thirds, or about 72% of the original 2126 with which Bligh had departed. The remaining dismal 28% was all that Bligh ever delivered; and when this too was halved, it meant that St Vincent and Jamaica had each received just 14% of the original catch. And even of those few left, a good many died in the months to come.
Missing logbooks:
Crucial evidence pertaining to the Bounty expedition are two out of a set of three original logbooks. The author discloses how the middle volume went missing in highly suspicious circumstances, and that the third volume, now held in the Mitchell Library and said to be an original, is actually a sanitized copy of the original, which also disappeared.
The Admiralty was partly to blame:
A secret priority of the breadfruit expeditions was to find and survey a safe passage through Torres Strait before the French arrived to do the same. Here the Bounty was always at risk: by failing to provide the Bounty with a consort, and then insisting Bligh return via Torres Strait and no other route, the Admiralty had placed its ship in the greatest of danger. In the likely event of adverse winds and currents it would have been far safer if Bligh was given discretionary orders to return west by the north of New Guinea, as were competing French navigators.
The Mutiny:
Amidst all the sensation of the mutiny, an economic dimension has been overlooked. It is significant that the more breadfruit plants Bligh delivered, the more he was to receive in gratuities; additionally, as cartography was something Bligh excelled at, he was also expecting a substantial prize for mapping a passage through Torres Strait. Bligh had fulfilled his duties at Tahiti, but a fact remains, if his subordinates hadn’t risen up against him as they did, his efforts to complete his commission would have been in vain – the mutiny had merely redefined an already doomed expedition. Yet in the events that followed, curiously, Bligh was compensated for “not” fulfilling his orders. This raises a pertinent question: if the mutiny was a saving grace for Bligh, then was it a chance occurrence or did Bligh help it along? Whether Bligh had engineered the mutiny, or had unwittingly provoked it, we can be sure that it suited him well. And no matter what excuses are made for his passive resistance, few would believe that other circumnavigators of the era would have allowed themselves to be cast away like Bligh was without fierce resistance and bloodletting. Bligh did have the opportunity to resist, he just chose not to do so, and no counter-action had effectively permitted Christian to complete the outrage. But while opportunism is one thing, going out of one’s way to deliberately foster disobedience amounts to sedition, and a Royal Navy officer would not normally do that. On the other hand, the mutineers were not acting normally either; in fact nothing was normal on the Bounty. Bligh definitely had a motive and in a confused state of mind, it is quite possible that dissension was what was intended, even if a rebellion was not. What Bligh needed was a disruptive event, one that would’ve excused him for re-routing his ship in the face of his strict Admiralty orders. Christian and Bligh had reasons to consider a means to satisfy their needs; i.e., Christian desperately wanted to remain in Polynesia, and his needy commander desperately wanted to save his career and obtain prizes and promotions that he would otherwise have missed out on. Christian had little reason to return to his insolvent family in England, and though Bligh wasn’t of low birth, neither was he a gentleman. Bligh could ill afford to embarrass his influential patrons. In fact Bligh was under all kinds pressure to succeed: notably he already had four daughters, which at that time, meant he would need acceptable social standing and considerable funds to have them married off properly.
Questions of sexuality:
The Conspiracy argues that Bligh had displayed homosexual tendencies and was not necessarily as celibate as commonly thought. However it was not Fletcher Christian whom Bligh had taken such a liking – as authors Richard Hough and Madge Darby have suggested – rather it was the tall bisexual chief, Tina (Pomare I of Tahiti). Even though Bligh was barely five-foot tall, his pale white skin, and vivid blue eyes, proved irresistible to Tina. Undoubtedly Bligh had philandered with Tina with the approval, and often attendance, of Tina’s formidable wife, Itia. But whether or not their alchemy was binding, makes little difference to the enquiry; after all, dangerous liaisons were a part of life in His Majesty’s faraway ships. Having discounted the likelihood that Christian and Bligh were by any degree a “couple”, the conclusions drawn do not rely upon the strengths or weaknesses of the homosexual issue.
The launch voyage:
The Conspiracy presents a very different picture of Bligh’s voyage by launch from Tofua to Timor. If a chaotic event was anticipated, the mutiny was nevertheless a premature development where Bligh never envisaged being expelled with so many men. What Bligh had strived for was a seismic reason to abort the voyage ahead. One reason could be if he had even less sailors to work the ship. But if worse-came-to-worse then an escape in his favorite pinnace together with a few chosen men and ample supplies, would be an acceptable, sufferable finale. As it happened Bligh did get most things he needed and it was only misfortune that he hadn’t obtained firearms as well. Few realize that after Bligh boarded the launch, Christian attempted to tow him ashore; further, after he’d cast off a wind shift prevented him from sailing to nearby Tongatapu where Bligh was friendly with prominent chiefs. Cashing in on Bligh’s fame, there have been four recreations of his open boat voyage and while they’ve not been without incident, notably they have all been without accident. If nothing else these reenactments have demonstrated that Bligh’s launch, and the replicas that followed in its wake, were an adequate means of voyaging from Tonga to Timor. Certainly the reenactments would never have taken place if the performers ever truly believed there was a real chance they might die. Well in advance of the mutiny, Bligh considered there was a far better chance of navigating through Torres Strait in the launch than he would have had in the Bounty. By passing through the strait in the launch, Bligh was well rewarded and he secured a place in history – it enhanced his chances of survival. Back in England people could not be expected to relate to the relative safeness of Bligh’s boat journey. Running about London trumpeting his story, Bligh reinvented himself as a hero. If the Launch voyage was ever an overly tough human endeavor then it was Bligh who had made it that way. In reality Bligh was delighted to make Timor in comparative good health; it was a brave new beginning for him, but it was a bittersweet landing for his reluctant crew – they aught to have been commemorated for saving their commander and not expelling him along the way.
Bligh was troubled by the French:
After the Bounty departed Tahiti and sailed towards Tonga, not only was Bligh confronted with the daily failure of his breadfruits, he was in dread of the French having already arrived at Torres Strait. Soon after anchoring at Matavai, Bligh received news that La Pérouse was indeed ahead of him. Due to the Bounty’s late arrival at Tahiti, Bligh had missed an all-important rendezvous at Matavai with Captain Sever of the Lady Penrhyn: a merchantman of the first fleet mysteriously off course from Sydney Cove. From reports that Sever left behind, Bligh learnt that the French had two ships somewhere west of him while frustratingly, he was stuck at Tahiti struggling with breadfruits for the duration of the monsoon. Bligh felt thwarted by the French and worse still, despite efforts to conceal his sickly plants, he rightly held that discipline would be further undermined when the extent of the problem became known.
The Bounty was a floating mistake:
Prior to departure from Spithead, Bligh rigged the Bounty for heavy weather sailing. This fixed modification rendered the ship more difficult to maneuver than it already was. For sailing in reef-strewn waters, by the standards of the day, the Bounty was a rather bad choice. And without a small consort, a maneuverable vessel like the avant-garde Assistant Bligh had for the Providence, his chances of passing through the Torres Strait in the cumbersome Bounty were very slim indeed. From Bligh’s conversations with Cook, his personal fear of the passage was horribly real. This is something that Bligh pondered before the mutiny; about the time he realized he could not deliver his breadfruit. During this period Bligh became increasingly desperate, mentally unstable, and extremely belligerent: he really was a disturbed and dangerous man. Driven to the edge to escape his anguish, with neither a bed to crawl under nor soul to help him, the author pictures Bligh contemplating death as a form of escape. But Bligh is afraid of such a dishonorable exit and in his spirited madness, he plots what was previously unthinkable for him. As the mutiny draws near there’s a hint of Conrad’s Lord Jim and Wouk’s Captain Queeg in The Caine Mutiny. But instead of Jim or Queeg, it’s the real life Captain Bligh in their place. Then during a prolonged period of dark and foul weather, while fighting against veering headwinds, serious weaknesses show up in his men’s ability to maneuver the awkward Bounty. What began as a promising adventure for Bligh ended with misfortune and not just the breadfruit; he fell victim to depression and feelings of gloom. If he wasn’t so affected then the prospect of an inglorious ending prompted him to save himself: anything was preferable to foundering in Torres Strait, and even if he survived a shipwreck, he feared being deemed incompetent – especially had one of La Pérouse’s ships got through the narrows before him. A chaotic event might present a way out of ignominy and remarkably, the mutiny did exactly that for him. As exampled by an evil attempt rid the ship of insubordinates at Nomuka, Bligh sought any means to rectify his predicament. After departing Nomuka and during a twenty-seven hour period he sailed aimlessly northwards, Bligh conjured various fallback plans. Whatever happened on the Bounty, it was Bligh who was the provocateur – the mutiny suited him – it was a satisfactory outcome.
Conclusions:
The Conspiracy discloses “why” there was a mutiny on the Bounty, but in solving that puzzle, how then was it carried out? The failure of the potted breadfruits caused Bligh immense stress and threatened his livelihood, and he was cavalier in taking his frustrations out upon those around him, so much so that it points to “design”, something more than his characteristic harsh and ungovernable temper. Bligh considered the risks and repercussions of failing to fulfill his orders and accepted that virtually any outcome was better than shipwreck and disgrace. In a brighter more cognitive state of mind, even with the odds against him, Bligh might have had the courage to go on. But plagued with thoughts that La Pérouse had already found a passage through the strait, and sent a map of it back to France, with his breadfruit business in ruins and left on a humble lieutenant’s salary, Bligh felt contemptuous of the navy and all he could think about was how best to help himself. Certainly it would’ve been futile for Bligh to adhere to his orders. Finally, events were triggered after he solicited Christian’s cooperation to inform on sailors with delinquent intentions. So if Bligh had planned ahead and had thought through his actions, to what degree was he was responsible for the actual mutiny? Was the crime of subverting his own command due to fear of failure or was it singularly designed to attract fame and fortune? The Conspiracy concludes that it was a mixture of timidity and opportunism coupled with pre-considered planning. In the final chapter all the strands come together in three divergent reenactments of the mutiny, then by carefully eliminating contradictions the author forces Bligh to give up his secret.