Of all the stories of blue water there is none so romantic and well remembered as that of the mutineers of the _Bounty_ who sought an Arcadia in the South Seas, and found it on Pitcairn Island, where their descendants to-day welcome the occasional ship that stops in passing. In 1787, ten years after Captain Cook had been slain by the natives of Hawaii, a group of West India merchants in London, whose interest was stirred by the glowing reports of the discoverers, urged the Government to explore the natural resources of those enchanted realms of the Pacific and particularly to transport the breadfruit tree to Jamaica and plant it there. The ship _Bounty_ was accordingly fitted out, and sailed in command of Lieutenant William Bligh, who had been one of Cook’s officers. After the long voyage to Tahiti, the ship tarried there five months while the hold was filled with tropical trees and shrubs. With every prospect of success, the _Bounty_ hove anchor and sheeted topsails to roll out homeward bound. Every sturdy British sailor was leaving a sweetheart on the beach of languorous Tahiti, where the unspoiled, brown-skinned women were as kind as they were beautiful, and where every dream of happiness was attainable. These were the first white men who had ever lingered to form sentimental attachments in that fortunate isle, and they left it reluctantly to endure the bitter toil and tyranny that were the mariner’s lot. Nor was Lieutenant Bligh a commander to soothe their discontent. His own narrative would lead you to infer that his conduct was blameless, but other evidence convicts him of a harsh and inflexible temper and a lack of tact which helped to bring about the disaster that was brewing in the forecastle and among the groups of seamen who loafed and whispered on deck during the dog-watches. The explosive crises of life are very often touched off by the merest trifles and a few cocoanuts appear to have played a part in the melodramatic upheaval of the _Bounty’s_ crew. Boatswain’s Mate James Morrison kept a journal in which he set down that Lieutenant Bligh missed some of his own personal cocoanuts, which had been stowed between the guns. The sailors solemnly denied stealing them, and the irate commander questioned Fletcher Christian, the master’s mate, who indignantly protested: “I do not know who took your cocoanuts, sir, but I hope you do not think me so mean as to be guilty of pilfering them.” Lieutenant Bligh, who was red in the face and hot under the collar, burst out in this most unlucky tirade: “Yes, you hound, I do; you must have stolen them from me, or you would be able to give a better account of them. You are all thieves, you scoundrels, and the officers combine with the men to rob me. I suppose you will steal my yams next, but I’ll make you sweat for it, you rascals, if I have to make half of you jump overboard before we get through Endeavor Straits.”