I’ll skip the nuances of the event, but in short, the crew of the original H.M.S. Bounty apparently liked the islands of French Polynesia when they arrived looking to transplant breadfruit from there. Really liked. As in send-their-captain-and-anybody-loyal-to-him-off-in-a-launch-and-burned-the-ship-to-cover-their-trail liked. Parts of its carcass are supposedly still visible in the clear tropical waters of Bounty Bay at Pitcairn Island, as well as in various museums and on Marlon Brando’s shirt sleeves (please save your questions until the end). The island is also still inhabited by various descendents of the mutineers.
Using the actual original plans for the historic H.M.S. Bounty from the archives of the Royal Navy, the film makers recreated the Bounty from the “keel up,” a first in moviedom, but making it about a third larger to accommodate cameras and crew (both film and ship). They then launched the Bounty to film on location. That’s right, this Bounty was no mere set. It was seaworthy, sailing 7,327 miles from Lunenberg, Nova Scotia, where it was built, down the East Coast, through the Panama Canal, and across the Pacific Ocean to Tahiti in 33 sailing days. All to film a movie about fruit and mutiny. That’s style points, man.
I mean, sure, he spoke in a ridiculous accent in the movie that he mainly affected by not opening his mouth when he spoke, and he went through an outfit or two that hasn’t been topped for outrageousness that side of The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, but, man, did he have a powerfully captivating mien. I can honestly say he was a big reason I could sit through the three-hour running time of the movie. Well, that and all the side-breast shots of the native women.
Of course, I was number 1.7 gazillion to do so. After the filming, the Bounty was renamed That Damned Brando and went on a promotional tour to various world fairs, events, and was even semi-permanently birthed for a time as a tourist attraction in Florida. Ownership has changed hands a few times, but these days it’s still participating in tall ship events. When it’s not filming movies, that is.
I visited the Bounty during a tall ship event at a dock in Portsmouth, NH, where it was sharing the spotlight with the recreation of an American privateer schooner called Lynx used in the War of 1812. To board these two rigged ships, we paid the entry fee and then got in a long line that snaked down the dock from a large tent with vendors selling drinks and seafood. The line moved pretty quickly, though. I guess there’s not much to do on a boat attraction but get on, get off, and go buy a lobster roll.
As we walked around topside, following the rough line of people moving in a counter-clockwise direction, deck hands were on hand to answer any questions about the ship’s history and ship sailing in general, as well as directing the crowd. This, naturally, made me I wonder if people ever get too unruly and attempt a mutiny against the staff (Rabblerouser: “Dude, they totally kicked me off the Bounty.” Captain Bligh: “Been there, man, been there.”).
Not knowing the purpose of anything I was looking at and being psychologically unable to ask questions of strangers unless forced to, everything was just a lot of wood and rope to me. Turns out, I’m less interested in sailing than I am in movie memorabilia. Not surprised. I think I did overhear one of the deckhands telling somebody else that some bit or other of the boat had originally been used in the Clark Gable version of Mutiny on the Bounty. That’s some ace reporting on my part.
Still, masted ships are impressive things, even if I’m too ignorant to appreciate them fully. In fact, it’s weird to think that this towering ship that has crossed half the world was built as a movie prop. But then again, all masted ships look like props to me. I get that we can send a robot to Mars, but I don't get how we can navigate the ocean using giant sheets of canvas.