Photograph by Luis Marden

Black sand, green palms, thundering surf: everyman’s dream of the South Pacific. Since its discovery by Samuel Wallis in 1767, Tahiti has symbolized paradise to writers, painters, and escapists. Benign climate, spectacular scenery, and friendly natives make the island a lotus-eaters’ land. Tahiti's Matavai Bay saw Capt. William Bligh and the Bounty sail into history. This wide, sheltered anchorage served as a base for Pacific explorers for more than a century. Wallis, Bougainville, Cook, and Bligh anchored beyond the surf at right. The Bounty came here in 1788.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Pitcairn looms in early morning light like a crouching lion bedded on the Pacific. So it appeared to Fletcher Christian and his eight shipmates when they sighted the island in 1790. With natives from Tahiti and Tubuai—6 men, 12 women, an infant girl—the mutineers founded a colony that still exists. On this isolated rock the Bounty mutineers hid from the world for 18 years. Crewmen who stayed in Tahiti were captured and tried in England, but Christian and his henchmen were never brought to justice. In 1808 an American ship found only one of the original mutineers alive.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Pitcairn men stare intently out to sea for sight of a passing ship. First man to spot a vessel on the horizon cries, “Sail ho!” A bell then rings, summoning boat crews to put to sea.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Three longboats pull out of Bounty Bay to meet a visitor at sea. Ships may arrive at any hour of the day or night. They do not anchor, but heave to a few miles offshore. Boatmen sell souvenirs to passengers and trade fresh fruit for ship’s groceries. Bounty was run ashore and burned in the shallow water of this rocky inlet. Christian and his followers destroyed the ship in 1790 to hide from searchers. The grid of logs and timbers (at right) helps oarsmen haul their craft up to the thatched boathouses beyond reach of the smashing surf.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Parkin Christian, great-great-grandson of Fletcher Christian, reads Bounty’s Bible.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Main Street is easy on bare feet. Barrows are the only wheeled traffic in Adamstown, Pitcairn’s sole settlement.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Women bake bread twice a week. Islanders shape square ovens with an ax from slabs of soft volcanic rock. Hilda Young preheats her oven with firewood from the rose apple, introduced from Norfolk Island before the turn of the century. Fortunately, the tree grows almost as fast as islanders can cut it. Hilda does frying and boiling over a wood fire built on a sandbox (right) known as a bolt.

Photograph by Luis Marden

The peculiar shape of wheelbarrows reflects Pitcairn’s needs. Beveled front edges slip easily through brush, metal-shod rear runners serve as brakes, and curved handles hook around the hands to prevent runaways on steep descents.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Men strain and pull but cannot budge the women. A tug of war between men and women climaxes field sports held during Christmas and New Year’s week. Invariably the women win such contests. Asked the reason, they grin and reply: “We heavier.” Pitcairn women work just as hard as men and are nearly as strong. Steep trails as well as the outdoor life help keep inhabitants athletic. Ordinarily there is little time for play. Fishing, gardening, and souvenir-making keep everyone busy from dawn to dark six days a week. Pitcairn observes Saturday as the Sabbath, as nearly all the islanders belong to the Seventh-day Adventist Church. A missionary converted the people to Adventism in 1886.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Crack of the cricket bat links the isle to England. Smooth and level ground is hard to find on Pitcairn, so the cricket pitch, set up on the lawn in front of the school building, is made of matting. This is an all-woman match. Some wives and girls bowl and bat with the best of the men and sometimes meet them in play. A British Crown Colony since 1838, Pitcairn is administered by the governor of the Fiji Islands, more than 3,000 miles away. Ships passing from Great Britain to New Zealand provide the island’s chief contact with the world. During the whaling era a century ago, Pitcairn was visited by more American ships than those of any other nation. At that time the dollar was the unit of currency; today New Zealand and British pounds are standard.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Islanders say grace before dinner. No Pitcairner starts a meal without giving thanks, a custom established by the last mutineer, John Adams, about 1800. Here the Hilda Young household sits down to its Christmas feast.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Baskets serve as Christmas stockings. When children are abed, parents go from house to house to fill baskets with sweets and gifts.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Adults on Christmas morning inspect family presents, which they found hung on trees.

Photograph by Luis Marden

The descendants of deep-sea voyagers are superb rough-water boatmen. Pitcairn men have been called “the world’s finest surf boatmen.” All are trained from the age of 14 to row, sail, and steer. Each of three boats on the island has a captain. Crewmen seem to pay little attention to him until moments of critical action, then all pull as one man.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Aunt Lily Warren, 79 years old, proudly wears the medal of the Order of the British Empire. Queen Elizabeth bestowed the honor on Aunt Lily in recognition of 50 years’ service as midwife on Pitcairn. Lily has officially retired, but: “If they ask for me, I go,” she says.

Photograph by Luis Marden

One of many islanders helped into the world by Lily (previous image) is Ailsa Young. At 15 years she wears the flower and soft good looks of her Tahitian ancestors. Few Pitcairners look so strongly Polynesian; most resemble their English forefathers. They speak an accented English, mixed with some Tahitian words and phrases. The younger generation, having a New Zealand schoolmaster, is losing the island way of speech.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Bounty’s remains are discovered after 167 years on the ocean floor. Though it has been known since January 23, 1790, the day Bounty burned, that she lay at the bottom of Bounty Bay, no one had found the exact site until National Geographic writer-photographer Luis Marden, using self-contained diving apparatus, discovered the spot in January of 1957. Because the hull had been destroyed by fire and sea action, no signs of a wreck could be seen. Twenty to 40 feet of turbulent water covered the site. Mr. Marden located the Bounty by estimating the ship’s position from a known group of iron ballast bars close to shore, then searching for unusual shapes in the limestone-encrusted sea bottom. He cut the objects from the calcareous growths with hammer and chisel. Thomas Christian (pictured), great-great-great-grandson of Fletcher Christian, holds the 15-pound pintle. He learned Aqua-Lung diving from the author.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Bounty’s anchor fluke protrudes from sand like a broad arrow. A happy accident uncovered the relic. Irving Johnson’s yacht Yankee, which called in February, 1957, moored outside Bounty Bay in calm weather, and crew members dived from a launch close to the ship. Using an Aqua-Lung, Wilford Fawcett spotted the fluke by chance on his first dive.

The anchor’s position in 50 feet of water well outside Bounty Bay leads the author to believe that Fletcher Christian dropped a stern anchor, then paid out enough cable to enable him to enter the rockbound inlet. Tradition records that a bow line was made fast to a tree. The ship was probably held thus, bow to shore, while she was stripped of everything useful before burning. As anchor chain had not yet come into use, flames must have burned through the hemp cable, leaving the anchor on the bottom.

Some years ago a similar anchor was recovered in Matavai Bay, Tahiti. Island tradition says it was one of the Bounty’s. As Bligh’s careful log did not record such a loss, the big iron hook must have been one of two left by Christian. On his return to Tahiti after the mutiny, Christian took aboard native men and women, then sailed secretly in the night, abandoning the anchors.

Today the anchor from Matavai Bay rests in the Auckland War Memorial Museum in New Zealand. Its shape and dimensions correspond exactly to the one shown.

Bounty carried at least five anchors—two bowers, a sheet, a stream, a kedge—and probably spares in the hold.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Raised from ocean’s gloom, the anchor sees sunlight again. Irving Johnson volunteered to raise the relic. With consummate seamanship he maneuvered the 96-foot-long Yankee through heavy swells into position directly above the anchor. He then lowered his own Danforth anchor to waiting divers, who passed a wire loop from fluke to fluke. Using her winch, Yankee then took a strain. The mass of iron trembled and shifted, but would not break free from the sand.

“I remembered,” says Captain Johnson. “that my dentist, when pulling a tooth, yanks from several directions, so I maneuvered the Yankee to take a strain alternately from each side.”

After 15 minutes of hauling and jockeying, the old anchor suddenly let go in a cloud of sand.

Here, as the hook emerges, divers make fast extra lines.

Photograph by Luis Marden

The salvaged 12-foot anchor rests on the landing in Bounty Bay. When it broke free from the bottom, most of the wooden stock remained buried and only the fragment shown at the feet of young Fletcher Christian was recovered.

The anchor is the old Admiralty pattern, which was distinguished by straight-V flukes. Rounded flukes did not come into use until about 1810. The short length of chain attached to the ringbolt probably was used to make the anchor fast when it was raised to the cathead.

Photograph by Luis Marden

It takes a strong back to work the ancient pit saw. Pitcairn men are skilled woodworkers. Those who emigrate to New Zealand usually work as shipwrights and carpenters.

Three men usually work on a sizable piece of wood. To keep the long blade from pinching, the third workman taps a wedge into the cut. Big timbers are imported from Australia and New Zealand.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Like sailors toiling round a capstan, islanders turn a sugar press. Pitcairn people work hard for a living. Men, women, and even children are busy from daylight to dark cultivating gardens, carving wood, weaving baskets, and catching fish.

Eight men, two to each bar, trudge around this heavy cast-iron press, which was manufactured years ago in the United States. Seamen all, they wear sheath knives fastened to the belt, usually in back where they do not interfere with nautical activities.

Chester Young sits on the hub and plays a chantey on a harmonica. Thelma Brown feeds cane stalks into the iron rollers. Pressed juice pours into the tub.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Men take advantage of a calm day to go fishing. Putting to sea in home-built canoes, they fish with hook and line for reef fish and deep-water species.

The feel of a nibble at the hook does not excite the Pitcairn fisherman. Instead, he watches the cruising fish through a waterglass and strikes only when he sees it mouthing the bait.

Scanning the bottom through such a glass 24 years ago, Parkin Christian spotted a Bounty rudder pintle that lay partly uncovered after a storm had disturbed the sand.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Pitcairn women weave strips of pandanus leaf for baskets and hats to sell to tourists on passing ships. They sun-dry the palm-like leaves, dye them in vats, and rip them into narrow ribbons. Souvenir baskets usually bear the word “Pitcairn” worked into the design.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Steady hand holds Yankee’s wheel. Clifford Warren takes the helm as the brigantine clears the Pitcairn cliffs for Henderson Island.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Longboat rides athwart steel bulwarks. For 23 years Captain Johnson has taken Pitcairn men and their boat 120 miles to Henderson to cut wood.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Loggers on Henderson drag and carry miro timbers to the waiting longboat. Once Pitcairn was covered with trees, but ruthless cutting deforested the island in a few generations.

Six times the size of Pitcairn, uninhabited Henderson is densely forested.

Yankee remained 24 hours, and islanders slept ashore in order to cut as much wood as possible. Each axman blazed his mark into the wood he felled and on return to Pitcairn claimed his own pieces.

In 1957 Yankee made her last cruise under Captain Johnson. If her new owner does not call at Pitcairn, islanders will have to sail their open boats to Henderson, a hazardous undertaking. Henderson Island has a curious connection with literary history. In 1820 the Nantucket whaler Essex was rammed and sunk in mid-Pacific by a sperm whale. Two of her lifeboats landed on Henderson. Finding little water and no food, the shipwrecked mariners put to sea again and finally were picked up near the South American coast after a threemonth voyage. Incredible hardships reduced them to cannibalism. From the Essex story, Herman Melville drew inspiration for Moby Dick.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Miro heartwood shows variegated grain. Pithy outer layer is discarded.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Fred Christian carves wooden flying fish. All Pitcairn males are expert carvers, selling their miro-wood creations to passing voyagers. Each man stamps his name on his products.

A favorite design is the fanciful flying fish, with incised scales, inlaid eyes, and orangewood teeth. Other subjects are vases held in a carved hand, turtles, sea birds, walking sticks, and boxes with puzzle locks.

Carvers maintain small sheds for workshops. Some have primitive lathes worked by foot.

Fred receives mail orders from all parts of the world. Sometimes a ship’s officer requests a special piece for delivery on the return voyage. In such instances Fred stamps the owner’s name, as well as his own, into the wood.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Three longboats take on goods for trade with a passing ship. Passengers bound to or from New Zealand eagerly buy curios and fresh coconuts, pineapples, oranges, lemons, grapefruit, bananas, and avocados. Pitcairn’s fertile volcanic soil gives an exquisite flavor to all fruits.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Climbing a Jacob’s ladder is not so easy as it looks. Longboats tie up to the ship fore and aft. One man remains in each boat as ship tender, while his companions swarm up the swaying ladder. Pitcairners sell their goods for money or trade for food.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Rangitiki, in a swirl of foam, turns her back on Pitcairn Island. Oars shipped and sails set, longboats come about for the return.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Len Brown’s Surprise leads a New Year’s race in a complete circuit of the island.

Photograph by Luis Marden

Seen from Christian’s Cave, Adamstown’s red roofs dot Pitcairn’s green plateau. Houses stand at random on both sides of the main path, which runs parallel to the sea. Made of wood and resting on stone piers, they cling to the island’s shoulder about 300 feet above the shore. Coconut palms rise above pandanus, candlenut, and rose apple.

Photograph by Luis Marden

A ship sails over the horizon against sunset’s fading glow. Some captains steam out to sea as soon as the longboats have made fast. On casting off, the boats face a three- to five-mile sail back home. Other skippers heave to so close that boatmen hoist no sail but row out.

With the short stroke of experienced seamen, islanders row home at dusk. When a visiting ship brings scantlings and planking, her crew ties the wood in bundles and throws it overboard for the longboats to retrieve. Sharp-eyed oarsmen rarely miss a bundle bobbing in the waves.

Photograph by Luis Marden

At day’s end the last longboat comes home under a rainbow’s arch.