Read Online Beyond the Bounty by Tony Parsons - Free Book Online

do with the birds. Can’t you see? They are all dying. And we eat enough of them.’
    He had other ideas.
    ‘This island was the Garden of Eden and we were all the serpent,’ said John Adams. ‘And now comes God’s judgement.’ The big black ship’s Bible was in his hands, but he did not need to read. John Adams knew the words by heart. ‘
Fallen is Babylon the Great – she has become a home for demons and a haunt for every evil spirit
.’
    Captain began to cry a bit at this news.
    I picked him up and hugged him.
    ‘John,’ I said. ‘We must stop eating the birds.’
    ‘
A haunt for every unclean and detestable bird
,’ he continued. ‘
In one hour she has been brought to ruin!
’
    ‘There is a sickness among the birds on the island,’ I said. ‘It is the birds who brought it here.’
    ‘No,’ said John Adams. ‘We carried it with us. From England. From Tahiti. From the
Bounty
.’
    A dead bird fell at our feet.
    I felt myself growing dizzy. My head was slick with sweat and heat. I staggered where I stood. My small son shivered in my arms. I feared I might drop him and the thought terrified me.
    ‘The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the sons,’ John Adams said, his mad eyes rolling.
    I cursed him.
    Then I saw that he was sick too. That we were all sick.
    I walked away, my feet unsteady.
    It was as if I was back at sea, and the wild ocean was rolling beneath me.
    ‘Daddy?’ said Captain, his face against my chest.
    My beautiful boy.
    I awoke to a changed world.
    My cabin was empty. Outside the island was silent. Not even the sound of the birds disturbed the still air. If I listened carefully, I could hear a soft breeze in the palms and the distant sigh of the sea.
    But beyond that, nothing.
    It was as if man had stepped on Pitcairn for but a brief moment in time. And now wild nature had returned to reclaim the island.
    I left my cabin. I saw no man, no woman, and no child. But as I walked up the little path towards the white cliffs, I heard the voice of John Adams. His words travelled to me through the palms.
    ‘Ashes to ashes,’ he said. ‘Dust to dust.’
    A small white cross stood on the top of the hill.
    John held his Bible over a newly dug grave.
    Around him I saw only women and children.
    I saw my wife. I saw Maimiti. But I did not see young Isaac Martin, that good lad who I liked so well, and I did not see John Mills, that drunken seadog.
    I did not see proud young Hu and I did not see the elder, Tetahiti. John Adams walked towards me.
    ‘How long did I sleep?’ I said.
    ‘Seven days and seven nights,’ he said.
    I could scarcely believe it. But I knew that it was true.
    ‘Where are the other men?’ I said.
    ‘I buried them days ago,’ he said. ‘The judgement seems to be on the men. Not the women and children. All of the women have survived. And most of the children.’
    And then I understood.
    ‘No,’ I said.
    John Adams stared at me with eyes that contained all eternity.
    ‘Not my boy?’ I said.
    John placed a rough hand on my shoulder. ‘I am sorry, Ned,’ he said. ‘It is a harsh judgement that has been passed on our island.’
    I could not bear for the women to see my tears. I could not bear to look at that small white cross. And I could not bear to look at the saintly face of the man with the Bible. But I did not run away.
    Instead, I took my knife from my kirtle and held it to his throat.
    ‘I thought you wanted to be William Bligh,’ I said bitterly. ‘But now I see you want to be God.’
    He stared calmly at the blade against his throat.
    Then he smiled.
    ‘You can’t kill me,’ he said. ‘You will have no one to talk to.’ His face grew serious. ‘I am truly sorry about your son, Ned,’ he said. ‘I know he was the light of your life.’
    I broke down then.
    I wanted him to fight me. I wanted him to curse me. I wanted him to tell me that I was damned to the fires of hell.
    I could deal with anything but his small act of kindness.
    The knife