known it from Christian himself; Churchill, no doubt, acted entirely by his leader’s orders, and the latter could give no orders that were not heard by Bligh, whom he never left, but held the cord by which his hands were fettered, till he was forced into the boat.  Churchill was quite right as to the motive of keeping these young officers; but Christian had no doubt another and a stronger motive:  he knew how necessary it was to interpose a sort of barrier between himself and his mutinous gang; he was too good an adept not to know that seamen will always pay a more ready and cheerful obedience to officers who are gentlemen, than to those who may have risen to command from among themselves.  It is indeed a common observation in the service, that officers who have risen from before the mast are generally the greatest tyrants.[31] It was Bligh’s misfortune not to have been educated in the cockpit of a man of war, among young gentlemen, which is to the navy what a public school is to those who are to move in civil society.  What painful sufferings to the individual, and how much misery to an affectionate family might have been spared, had Bligh, instead of suppressing, only suffered the passage to stand as originally written in his journal!

The remarks of young Heywood above recited, were received and transmitted by his sister Nessy in a letter to the Earl of Chatham, then first Lord of the Admiralty, of which the following is a copy.

     ’Great Russell Street, 11th Oct. 1792.

’MY LORD,—­To a nobleman of your lordship’s known humanity and excellence of heart, I dare hope that the unfortunate cannot plead in vain.  Deeply impressed as I therefore am, with sentiments of the most profound respect for a character which I have been ever taught to revere, and alas I nearly interested as I must be in the subject of these lines, may I request your lordship will generously pardon a sorrowful and mourning sister, for presuming to offer the enclosed [remarks] for your candid perusal.  It contains a few observations made by my most unfortunate and tenderly beloved brother, Peter Heywood, endeavouring to elucidate some parts of the evidence given at the court-martial lately held at Portsmouth upon himself and other prisoners of his Majesty’s ship Bounty.  When I assure you, my lord, that he is dearer and more precious to me than any object on earth—­nay, infinitely more valuable than life itself—­that, deprived of him, the word misery would but ill express my complicated wretchedness—­and that, on his fate, my own, and (shall I not add?) that of a tender, fond, and alas! widowed mother, depends, I am persuaded you will not wonder, nor be offended, that I am thus bold in conjuring your lordship will consider, with your usual candour and benevolence, the “Observations” I now offer you, as well as the painful situation of my dear and unhappy brother.—­I have the honour, etc.

     NESSY HEYWOOD.’