The planting time came round at Pitcairn, and all was busy activity in the little settlement at Bounty Bay. The women, engaged in household work and in the preparation of food, scarcely troubled themselves to cast an anxious eye on the numerous children who, according to age and capacity, rolled, tumbled, staggered, and jumped about in noisy play. The sun, streaming through the leaves of the woods, studded shady places with balls of quivering light, and blazed in fierce heat in the open where the men were at work, each in his respective garden. We have said that those gardens lay apart, at some distance from each other, and were partially concealed by shrubs or undulating knolls.

 

The garden of John Williams was farthest off from the settlement. He wrought in it alone on the day of which we write. Next to it was that of Fletcher Christian. He also worked alone that day.

 

About two hundred yards from his garden, and screened from it by a wooded rising ground, was a piece of plantation, in which John Mills, William McCoy, and Menalee were at work together. John Adams, William Brown, and Isaac Martin were working in their own gardens near their respective houses, and Quintal was resting in his hut. So was Edward Young, who, having been at work since early morning, had lain down and fallen into a deep slumber.

 

The three native men, Timoa, Nehow, and Tetaheite, were still away in the woods. If the unfortunate Englishmen had known what these men were about, they would not have toiled so quietly on that peaceful morning!

 

The Otaheitans met in a cocoa-nut grove at some distance to the eastward of the settlement. Each had a musket, which he loaded with ball. They did not speak much, and what they did say was uttered in a suppressed tone of voice.

 

“Come,” said Timoa, leading the way through the woods.

 

The others followed in single file, until they reached the garden where Williams was at work. Here their movements were more cautious. As they advanced, they crept along on their knees with the motion of cats, and with as little noise. They could hear the sound of the armourer’s spade, as he turned up the soil. Presently they came to an opening in the bushes, through which they could see him, not thirty yards off.

 

Timoa drew himself together, and in a crouching attitude levelled his musket.

 

During their absence in the woods, these men had practised shooting at a mark, doubtless in preparation for the occasion which had now arrived. The woods and cliffs rang to the loud report, and Williams fell forward without a cry or groan, shot through the heart.

 

The murderers rose and looked at each other, but uttered not a word, while Timoa recharged his gun.

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