What a chilling story!
I recently spent a few days on Norfolk Island, where the Pitcairners relocated in the 1800s. A few yearned after their far more remote island and returned home, but most stayed on and the community is larger and diverse, though the same surnames apply for the same reasons.
Not an entirely happy land. The locals fret about their position within Australian administration and are appealing to the UN for independence.
But certainly a little piece of island paradise, full of history, great food, unique wildlife, and glorious scenery, all views ending at the horizon.
And culture. The Norfolk Islanders tell the stories of Pitcairn, they speak the pidgin, they bear the names, and they sing the songs.
No wonder, on Pitcairn, such a tiny population is troubled. It can hardly be viable. Your photographs show people distorted by the past, their faces closed, their thoughts either closely held or disturbingly apparent.
Only two ways of escape. Death, or exile.