evidence justifies the belief that Bligh, though a sailor of unequivocal
skill and dauntless courage, was an unlikeable man, and that aversion to
service under him was a factor contributing to the mutiny which cannot be
explained away.

Bligh is the connecting link between Cook and Flinders. Bligh learned
under Cook to experience the thrilling pleasure of discovery and to
pursue opportunities in that direction in a scientific spirit. Flinders
learnt the same lesson under Bligh, and bettered the instruction. Cook is
the first great scientific navigator whose name is associated with the
construction of the map of Australia; so much can be said without
disparagement of the adventurous Dutchmen who pieced together the outline
of the western and northern coasts. Flinders was the second; and Bligh,
pupil of the one and teacher of the other, deserves a better fate than to
be remembered chiefly as a sinister figure in two historic mutinies, that
of the Bounty, and that which ended his governorship of New South Wales
in 1808. Much worse men have done much worse things than he, have less
that is brave, honourable, enterprising and original to their credit, and
yet are remembered without ignominy. It is said by Hooker: "as oftentimes
the vices of wicked men do cause other their commendable virtues to be
abhorred, so the honour of great men's virtues is easily a cloak to their
errors." Bligh fell short of being a great man, but neither was he a bad
man; and the merit of his achievements, both as a navigator and amid the
shock of battle (especially at Copenhagen in 1801, under Nelson), must
not be overlooked, even though stern history will not permit his errors
to be cloaked.

Notwithstanding the failure of the Bounty expedition, Sir Joseph Banks
pressed upon the Government the desirableness of transplanting breadfruit
trees to the West Indies. He also proved a staunch friend to Bligh. The