The Boy's Book of the Sea by Eric Wood - HTML preview

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UNDER THE JOLLY ROGER
Thrilling Stories of Pirates

PIRATES!

The word conjures up visions of ferocious men with pistol in hand, knife in mouth, clothes stained with blood, planks run out of a ship’s side, and unfortunate, blindfolded men being driven to their death; treasure in galore; high jinks ashore till the call for action came again.

A pretty picture—perhaps; and only too well founded on fact.

When, in 1689, France and England joined hands in the determination to sweep the buccaneer from the seas, and to effect this closed all used harbours to him, the ruffian adopted new methods. As we have seen, the buccaneers were something of a community, recognised up to a point by different nations, and the French and English buccaneers waged private war against the Spaniard. The assumption of so much power, as shown by Morgan, made the nations anxious, and the result was that when they decided to put an end to the buccaneer, whether he only attacked Spaniards or not, that worthy, finding himself a general outcast, declared against everybody; he became a pirate to whom no ship was immune.

Previously the scourges of the sea had been able to use frequented harbours to dispose of their prisoners and treasure; now they found themselves compelled to find new ports, and these were generally desert islands. Here they marooned their prisoners, or hid their treasure against the time when they could come and dig it up.

To take Blackbeard first.

Blackbeard was his nickname, given him because of the long whiskers that he wore, tied up with ribbons on occasions, if you please! Altogether Captain Edward Teach, to give him his right name, was a somewhat picturesque ruffian, with a sling over his shoulders to carry three brace of pistols, lighted matches under his hat, his beribboned beard and his flamboyant costume made up of things he had purloined during his cruises. He began life as a seaman on a privateer, rising to the command of a sloop in 1716. The sloop, by the way, was a prize captured by his friend Captain Hornygold, with whom in 1717 Teach sailed on a voyage down the American mains. After a fairly prosperous cruise the pirates parted company, Teach having command of a new prize, a large French Guineaman, and Hornygold going to Providence, where he surrendered to the King’s mercy, probably having had enough of the life adventurous and realising that a recent proclamation gave him an opportunity to leave his profession without sacrificing his life.

Blackbeard, however, was but just beginning, as it were, and he turned his Guineaman into a formidable fighting ship, mounting forty guns in her, and giving her the new name of the Queen Anne’s Revenge. All being ready, he sailed, and almost immediately fell in with a large ship called the Great Allen, off the Isle of St. Vincent. He soon overcame any resistance made, took out of her all that he wanted, marooned the crew, set fire to the ship, and sent her drifting out to sea, a flaming testimony to the methods he was going to adopt in his profession.

A day or so afterwards he came up against a different kind of ship; she was an English man-o’-war, the Scarborough, thirty guns. There was a fine set-to for some hours, for Teach was nothing loath to accept a really good scrap when the opportunity arose, especially when, as in this case, he was stronger than his foe. The guns blared out their thunderous music, there were some near shaves for boarding; but in the end the Scarborough found that she had undertaken too big a task, and sheered off. Mighty pleased, Teach now got swelled head, and felt himself strong enough for anything, and felt stronger still when, sailing for the Spanish Main, he joined forces with another pirate, Major Bonnet, who, finding a planter’s life too monotonous, had taken to the sea as a gentleman adventurer. Teach soon found out that Bonnet was no sailorman, and likely to be more bother than he was worth in command of a ship; so he put one of his comrades named Richards in command of the sloop and took Bonnet on his own ship. It was no good Bonnet protesting; Teach spoke, and it was! He was an autocrat, this merry pirate!

The two vessels now put in at Turneffe, near the Gulf of Honduras, to take in water, and while doing this an unfortunate sloop, the Adventure, came along; whereupon Richards slipped out after her. All unsuspecting, the Adventure held on. Then came consternation—the pirate had hoisted the Jolly Roger!

And the Adventure struck and surrendered, which gave Teach another ship for his little Armada. Then away to Honduras, where they discovered a large ship, the Protestant Cæsar (Captain Wyar) and four sloops. Sailing boldly in, the pirates hoisted the black flag, banged away at the ships, and called upon them to surrender. Immediately Wyar and his crew took to a boat and raced ashore, leaving the Protestant Cæsar at the mercy of the pirates, who took possession, and after rifling her, burnt her, as they did one of the sloops. The other three they let go.

Leaving Honduras, the pirates sailed about the neighbouring seas, taking prizes at their will and reaping a rich harvest. Finally, they came to anchor off the bar at Charlestown, Carolina, where they continued their depredations, capturing many ships, one of them a brigantine full of negro slaves. Blackbeard’s sojourn off Charlestown was nothing more or less than a blockade, and a very effective one; no ship dared try to enter or leave the port, and the whole trade of the town was at a standstill, while day by day Teach was adding to the number of his prizes.

Finding that he stood in need of a medicine-chest, Teach decided that the best way to get it was to apply to the Governor of Charlestown. Confident that he held the trump cards in the game, the pirate sent Richards and two or three other men into Charlestown, sending with them one named Marks, whom they had taken prisoner on one of the ships.

The pirates landed, swaggered into the town, bearded the authorities brazenly, and in none too courteous manner told them that they wanted medicines, and that the council of Carolina must provide them. If they were not forthcoming, and if the envoys were not allowed to return unmolested, then Teach threatened that he would burn every one of the large number of ships he had captured, would kill every man found on them, and send their heads to the governor.

Mr. Marks interviewed the council, and Richards and his companions sauntered about the town flaunting the people, who dared not lay a finger upon them! The council, in a quandary, argued about the matter amongst themselves; but as the lives of so many people were at stake (by the way, one of their own number, Mr. Samuel Wragg, was a prisoner to Teach), they soon came to the conclusion that, however disgraceful it might be, there was nothing to be done but meet the pirates’ demands. So when the sloop went back it carried a medicine-chest worth nearly four hundred pounds!

Teach, true to his word, set the prisoners free, rifled the ships of a small fortune, and then sailed away to North Carolina. Here Blackbeard put into execution a little plot. He had succeeded in gathering a fine harvest of riches, and felt that it was a shame to have to share it with so many folk. He therefore decided to get rid of some of them. Running his own vessel ashore, while Israel Hands (in the plot with him) ran one of the sloops ashore as well, the precious pair rowed out to the third sloop with forty men, took possession of her, and marooned seventeen of her crew on a small deserted island well away from the coast. Fortunately for them, Major Bonnet, at this time in command of another sloop, came up two days later and took them off; otherwise they would have perished.

Having got rid of some of the crew, Teach now landed and, accompanied by twenty of his men, called on the governor of North Carolina, not with the intention of plundering him, but for the purpose of surrendering under the clement proclamation. Governor Charles Eden gave him his pardon, and the pirate, now fairly wealthy, soon became friends with him; so much so that when Blackbeard cast covetous eyes upon one of the ships he had captured some time before, the governor called the Court of the Vice-Admiralty, which condemned the vessel as a prize taken from the Spaniards by Captain Teach. This was straining things rather, seeing that Teach had never held a commission in the King’s navy! No doubt Governor Eden made something out of the deal.

Teach’s idea in getting the ship was that he felt the time ripe for resuming the old life; and he felt that, with a friend at court, he would have a much easier time of it. So in June, 1718, after having married a young girl of sixteen (his fourteenth wife, a dozen still being alive!), Blackbeard put to sea, shaping his course for the Bermudas. He had a rollicking time for several months, taking rich prizes, terrorising the captains who traded thereabouts, and going back to North Carolina occasionally to square things up with the governor, who was now so far in the ditch that Teach felt strong enough to be saucy to him—just to teach him his place!

No matter what protests were entered at North Carolina, no matter how many angry captains appealed to the governor for redress and protection, nothing was done; and Teach held sway. Things assumed such a pass that a deputation of captains was sent to the Governor of Virginia, to request that steps should be taken against Teach. In the James River were two men-o’-war, the Lima and the Pearl, and two sloops were manned by sailors from the warships under command of Lieutenant Maynard, of the Pearl. Then, after a proclamation offering rewards for the apprehension, dead or alive, of the pirates, the sloops set out for where the pirates were at anchor in the Okercok inlet, in the James River. Maynard had taken the precaution to stop all vessels from going up the river, lest news of his coming should be given the pirates. Governor Eden, aware of the expedition, sent four pirates from Bath Town to warn Teach what was afoot. The pirate, however, had had several other warnings, which he refused to believe, and he took the news the governor sent him with a grain of salt. The result was that Maynard was able to get within sight of the pirate vessels without hindrance. And then Teach believed!

Roaring out orders to the twenty-five men on board, he quickly cleared for action, determined to show fight. Then, when all was ready, he calmly sat down to supper and a carousal, knowing that the shoals were too dangerous for Maynard to attempt cutting him out till daylight came.

Hardly waiting for the sun to rise, Maynard next morning sent a boat ahead to take soundings in the intricate channel, and drew near to the pirate ship. Within gunshot, he was subjected to a heavy fire by Teach, who, when the sloops hoisted the King’s colours and raced at him with sail and oar, cut cable and tried to make a running fight of it. He brought all his big guns to bear upon the sloops, but these pushed on through the hail of shot, and, having no guns mounted, kept up a rain of small-arm fire. They hung on like leeches, dodged the pirate, and made him dodge to such an extent that Teach was at his wit’s end what to do, and at last ran ashore. Maynard’s sloop was of deeper draught than the pirate, and could not get near until the ballast was flung overboard and the water-casks staved in. Then, lightened considerably, she was able to get close enough to Teach to make him uncomfortable.

“Who are you?” yelled Blackbeard. “Where are you from?”

“We’re no pirates,” retorted Maynard, “as you can see by our colours.”

“Send a boat, then, so that I can see who you are,” said Teach.

“Sorry,” answered Maynard, “but I can’t spare a boat. I’ll come aboard with the sloop, however, as soon as I can!”

“Seize my soul,” cried Teach, quaffing wine, “if I give you quarter, or take any from you!”

A sentiment with which Maynard told him he heartily agreed.

The pirate ship was now afloat again, and the battle started once more. As the sloops were no more than a foot high in the waist the crews were exposed to fire as they tugged at the oars; and Teach took advantage of this. He discharged a whole broadside of small shot, which killed twenty men on Maynard’s ship and nine on the other, which was disabled, and fell astern as the pirate vessel went broadside to the shore in order to present but one flank to attack. Maynard, fearing another broadside, ordered his men below, and he and the helmsman alone remained on deck as the sloop ran alongside the pirate.

Down below Maynard’s men were ready for the word of command that should send them scrambling up the pirate’s side. Up on Teach’s deck men lined the side with hand grenades made of case-bottles filled with powder, slugs, small shot, and fired with a quick-match; and as the sloop came alongside these were hurled down into her.

Teach, looking over, saw only Maynard and the helmsman alive, with many dead men lying about the deck, and, thinking that he had effectively put them out of the fight, cried to his men:

“They’re all knocked on the head except three or four. Let’s jump in and cut the rest to pieces!”

Down into the sloop, therefore, went Teach and fourteen of his cut-throats, expecting an easy triumph. The smoke from the grenades obscured things so that Maynard could not see what had happened; but as it cleared away, and he realised that he had been boarded, he called upon his men, who swarmed up on deck and fell like an avalanche upon the pirates.

Maynard tackled Blackbeard himself. The two fired simultaneously, and Teach was wounded slightly, but not badly enough to prevent him from engaging in some sword play with Maynard. In the midst of that fighting crowd the two men fought hard and long, neither gaining much advantage, until at last Maynard’s sword snapped in two, and he seemed at the mercy of the pirate. He stepped back quickly, cocked his pistol; but ere he could fire Blackbeard had swung down upon him with his cutlass. For a moment it seemed that Maynard was done, but, with a yell, one of his men hurled himself at Teach, slashed at him with a cutlass that gashed his throat and neck and put him off his stroke, so that Maynard received only a slight wound on his finger.

Still the fight went on, thirteen men against fifteen, the odds in favour of the pirates. The deck was slippery with blood; men whom the firing had laid low were trampled upon as the yelling, cursing, hacking crowd swayed this way and that. Now the fight seemed to be going in favour of the pirates, now of the royal crew; and Teach cheered on his men savagely, cursing them, exhorting them.

Blackbeard, although wounded in several places, was a game scoundrel, and kept on with the fight; he was literally covered with pistols, which he kept drawing and firing; and when the fight ended he was smothered with wounds—twenty-five of them! And one wound was mortal, for he dropped dead to the deck, to keep eight of his fourteen company in death. The other six flung themselves overboard, but were captured. Then, the second royal sloop coming up, the remainder of the pirates on the big sloop were attacked, and after a stiff fight they surrendered.

When the vessel was captured, it was found that Teach had arranged for it to be blown up, with its living freight, as soon as Maynard boarded her; and the negro who had had the task allotted to him was with difficulty dissuaded from carrying it out when he found out that Teach had been killed.

Blackbeard’s head was cut off and hung at the bowsprit end of the royal sloop, which sailed with it to Bath Town, where Maynard, having found papers incriminating Governor Eden, forced that gentleman to return the spoils that Teach had given him; and in due course sailed back to the men-o’-war with fifteen prisoners, who were brought to justice.

CAPTAIN HOWELL DAVIS, who adopted much the same tactics as the old buccaneers, mutinied against his captain and assumed command of the ship, which he turned into a pirate craft. After several little affairs, in which he gained much treasure and many reinforcements of men, till he had seventy under him, he aimed at something higher than merely holding up ships on the seas. He thought he would like to capture Gambia Castle, on the coast of Guinea, a place where there was always a good store of money. Sailing in, he sent all his men below, except a few who were needed to work the ship, and, coming to anchor under the fort, hoisted out a boat, manned it with six men dressed like any ordinary sailormen, and sent the doctor and the master with them as merchants.

The governor, named Foyle, had seen the ship come in, and sent a company of soldiers down to the shore to welcome the new-comers, who were taken into the castle, where the governor greeted them kindly. The pirates lied glibly, telling the governor that they were from Liverpool, bound for Senegal, but, having been chased by a couple of French men-o’-war, had put in at Gambia for safety. Would the governor trade with them for slaves? Gathering that the merchants had a large cargo of plate and iron, the governor agreed to barter, asking incidentally whether they had any liquor aboard. Davis said they had, and promised him a hamper for his own use, if he would care to accept it.

Overwhelmed at the generosity, the governor invited Davis and his comrades to dinner with him; Davis accepted, but said that he must go on board first to see that everything was all right. He would return in time for dinner, bringing the liquor with him.

Davis had been taking notes of everything in the fort, and when he got back to his ship was able to assure his rascally crew that before night the fort would be in their possession—if they didn’t get drunk. They promised to be good, and to send twenty men on shore directly they saw the flag of the fort struck—the signal that Davis had captured it. Davis took the precaution, in the evening, of securing the crew of a little sloop that lay in the harbour, lest they should hear anything and give warning to the governor.

Then, taking the hamper of liquor, Davis entered his boat, which had a number of men in it, each armed with two pairs of pistols, carefully hidden, and with instructions to mingle with the soldiers in the guard-room while Davis was engaged with the governor. When Davis fired a pistol through the governor’s window they were to set about the soldiers at once, and seize all the arms in the guard-room.

In due course the pirate was with the governor, waiting dinner, and making a bowl of punch to while the time away. Never was man more surprised than that luckless governor when, in the midst of the convivialities, Davis poked a pistol in his face, and told him that unless he surrendered the castle and all the money it contained, he would shoot him like a dog!

What could a man do? the governor evidently asked himself. Foyle gave in. Davis and the coxswain, the master and the doctor, having closed the door, took possession of all the weapons in the governor’s room, and loaded all the pistols. Then Davis fired through the window, as arranged. Instantly his men in the guard-room got to work; they placed themselves between the soldiers and their piled-up arms, and, with cocked pistols at the heads of the soldiers, called upon them to surrender. They did so; it was no use trying to resist ruffians who were so well armed! The soldiers were locked in the room, the flag was struck, reinforcements came from the ship, and during the day the pirates enjoyed themselves to the full, plundering everything, and reaping a fairly rich harvest. Davis, who felt he wanted more men, prevailed upon certain of the soldiers to join him; the others he placed on board the sloop, having taken the precaution of removing all sails, etc., from her, so that they could not escape.

Then, having got all that was to be obtained, Davis ordered the fortification to be destroyed and the guns dismounted, and, considering it time to be gone, weighed anchor. Just as the ship was setting sail the pirates saw a vessel bearing down upon them. Not knowing what kind of a ship she might be, whether friend or foe—they had very few friends, and far too many foes!—Davis had all his men to arms to receive the new-comer, who, when near enough, let fly a shot across the pirate’s bows and hoisted the black flag! Davis, overjoyed at the turn of events, returned the compliment both with shot and flag, and in a few minutes the two captains were hobnobbing together. Davis found that the new-comer was a pirate under the command of a Frenchman named La Bouse; and, joining forces, the precious pair sailed down the coast to Sierra Leone.

Here they saw a tall ship riding at anchor, and decided that she would make a good prize. The thing that worried them was that she did not attempt to escape, which made them wonder whether she might not be a heavily armed vessel, who felt sure of herself and didn’t mind a fight. However, Davis sailed in boldly, and his ship literally staggered back as she received a full and heavy broadside; and up went the stranger’s flag—a black one! Truly Davis was meeting some queer adventures! It did not take long to explain matters, and Davis and La Bouse found themselves in company with another band of pirates, under a rogue named Cocklyn. They fraternised together for three days, the first two being spent in true pirate fashion—feasting and debauching; on the third a council of war was held, at which it was agreed to join forces, Davis being appointed to supreme command. However, the friends soon quarrelled amongst themselves, and the three captains nearly came to blows one day while they were engaged in a debauch.

Davis decided that the affair must end at once, before worse happened.

“Hark ye, Cocklyn and La Bouse!” he cried. “I find that, by strengthening you, I have put a rod into your hands to whip myself. However, I am still able to deal with you both; but since we met in love, let us part in love, for it’s very plain that three of a trade can never agree.”

The other pirates saw the wisdom of Davis’s opinion, and the result was that they parted company. We will leave the others, and follow Davis to his tragic end. Ambitious as ever, he captured a big Dutch ship with thirty guns in her, and, mounting twenty-seven more, sailed to the Isle of Princes, which he thought to raid. To the governor he passed himself off as the captain of an English man-o’-war searching for pirates. The governor welcomed him and feasted him, and, to return the compliment, Davis, presenting him with a dozen slaves, invited him on board to a feast, asking him to bring some of the chief men and friars from the island. The governor agreed, and Davis was highly pleased, for he had fashioned a little plot whereby, as soon as the governor boarded the ship, he and his friends were to be taken prisoner, and held to ransom for £40,000.

Poor Pirate Davis! He was doomed to disappointment on this occasion. A negro, watching his opportunity, that night slipped overboard, swam to the shore, burst like a tornado upon the governor, and warned him of the plot.

Next morning, when Davis went ashore, the governor met him with smiling face, invited him to join him at the house in a little refreshment, and, chatting affably, the party walked up. Presently the governor shifted somewhat, and at a given signal a withering volley was poured in at the pirates, who, with one exception, fell to the ground. The plot had failed!

Davis, wounded in the bowels though he was, rose to his feet and endeavoured to get away; he dropped in his tracks, and in the moment of death pulled out his pistols, and fired them point-blank at his pursuers.

When those on board the ship saw what had happened, they hurried away post-haste, and, once clear of the island, elected a new captain. The choice fell upon Bartholomew Roberts, and a really fine pirate chief he made. He was a born fighter and leader of men; he stood no nonsense from anyone, and the man who disputed his authority knew it to his cost. He cared for nobody, and, although we need not follow his whole career, he did so much damage amongst shipping, both off Africa and America, that his name became a byword amongst mariners. He was a terror of the seas.

He cut a picturesque figure when he went fighting. He would overhaul a ship, pound at her for all he was worth, and then, entering his longboat, row over and tackle her. All his men were extravagant in their tastes regarding dress, but Roberts was worse than all; he dressed in a rich crimson damask waistcoat and breeches, wore a large black hat with a crimson feather, a gold chain round his neck, with a diamond pendant, a silk band hanging from his shoulders to carry his pistols. Thus, sword in hand, he led his men to the fight, dashing, very often, through a very hail of shot, and, with shouts and curses, urging his men on as they tried to board. A stiff fight very often ensued, and then the pirates, having run the gauntlet of fire, scrambled up the side of the ship and, after a fierce hand-to-hand fight, had her beaten.

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“Sword in hand, Roberts led his men to the fight, dashing through a very hail of shot”

But, though he played this game many a time with much success, Nemesis was at hand. The Royal Fortune, as he called his last ship, had as consort the Ranger, and the two ships caused such depredation that the British cruiser Swallow scoured the seas to find them, eventually running them to earth in the River Gaboon. The Royal Fortune lay well up the river, but the Ranger was at the mouth, and, seeing the Swallow approach with portholes closed, her crew hugged themselves with delight in anticipation of another prize. They thought she was a sugar ship, and they badly wanted sugar. They therefore hoisted sail and gave chase, which was just what the Swallow wanted. Lieutenant Sun, in command, had realised that the Ranger had made a mistake, and he led her on till she was well away from the river and out of gunshot of the Royal Fortune, which he meant to tackle later on.

The pirates, lured on by the thought of the sugar cargo sped after the Swallow, drew near enough to fire their bow chasers, and then opened on the quarry. Up went the black flag at the same time—as though the Swallow wanted to be told who they were!—and then, after a little further chase, drew alongside and prepared to board. The ruffianly looking crew lined the side of the Ranger. That moment the lower ports of the Swallow opened, and a terrific broadside crashed into the side of the astonished pirate. They had been bitten, deceived. They cursed their foes and drew off, though not before the black flag came fluttering down to the deck. Then, having hoisted another Jolly Roger, they tried to get away; but the Swallow was swifter than their own ship, and her guns better handled, with the result that, after a running fight of two hours, the black flag came down again, this time struck by the pirates; and the Ranger was captured.

They were a cheerful lot of pirates which the Swallow took aboard; they did not seem to mind the prospect of the gallows, but joked and laughed, and treated the whole affair as a huge joke. They even tried to blow the Ranger up before they were taken off, with the pirates and the Navy men on board. Lieutenant Sun sent the Ranger into port with a prize crew, and then made off for the Gaboon River again, to tackle Roberts, in the Royal Fortune. While the fight had been going on, Roberts had been busy; he had captured a ship, and was sailing away with her when the Swallow sighted him on February 9, 1722. Sun kept as far away as possible, so that Roberts should not suspect he was being followed, and allowed him to anchor in a bay near Cape Lopez for the night. Roberts, who, if he had known, might have given the Swallow the slip, remained there, all unconscious of the fate coming to him. He was at breakfast next morning when news was brought him of a tall ship being near at hand. Roberts said it must be the Ranger returning, or a slave ship; anyway, it was nothing to get into a turmoil about. He soon found his mistake, for the stranger hoisted her colour, opened her ports, and showed Roberts that he was in for a scrap.

“It’s only a bite!” he cried. “Get ready!”

While his men rushed to arms, Roberts stood on his deck in all the glory of his pilfered attire. There came to him one of his men who, a deserter from the Navy, had once sailed aboard the Swallow, and knew her powers.

“She sails best before the wind,” he said; “and we can escape, if we want to, by running for it.”

Roberts thought a while. He knew that he was in a tight corner, for the Swallow’s men were brilliant fighters, and she was a sturdy ship. He decided, after all, he would run for it, making up his mind that, if everything else failed, he would either run the ship ashore, and let his men shift for themselves, or else dash down upon the Swallow, board her, and blow up both ships!

So the orders were given, and the Royal Fortune swooped down upon the Swallow, intending to give her a broadside as she passed. The Swallow opened fire as the black flag fluttered aloft; Roberts returned it, and then swung away. But, just as he thought he was safe, the Royal Fortune failed them. Something went wrong; she did not answer to the helm, and failed to catch the wind. The Swallow drew near!

What Roberts would have done it is impossible to say; what he did, however, was to die at that moment. A grapeshot hurtled across the deck, struck him in the throat, and killed him outright. He dropped to the deck in a sitting posture. The helmsman, thinking he was fooling, cursed him roundly, and tried to get him on his feet, but, finding the pirate chief dead, began to cry, and prayed that the next shot might kill him off too. The remainder of the ruffians seized the captain and pitched him overboard, as he had instructed them to do in case of death.

Then, leaderless, they scarcely knew what to do; they were half drunk most of them, and though they put up a little resistance, and some of them sought to blow up the magazine, they at last struck their flag; and the Swallow had cleared Roberts and his herd off the sea.

So much for some of the pirates of long ago.