HIGHWAYMEN AND PIRATES
Chronic dangers and riots in the London streets—Footmen's
riot at Drury Lane—James Maclane, a notorious knight of the
road, has a lodging in St. James's Street—Stops Horace
Walpole—Hanged at Maidstone—John Rann, _alias_ Sixteen-string
Jack—Short career ends on the gallows—William Parsons, a
baronet's son, turns swindler and is transported to Virginia—
Jonathan Wild, the sham thief-taker and notorious criminal—
Captain Kidd—English peers accused of complicity—Kidd's
arrest, trial, and sentence—John Gow and his career in the
_Revenge_—His death at Execution Dock.
Inoffensive persons were constantly in danger, day and night, of being
waylaid and maltreated in the streets. Disturbance was chronic in
certain localities, and a trifling quarrel might at any moment blaze
into a murderous riot. On execution days the mob was always rampant;
at times, too, when political passion was at fever-heat, crowds of
roughs were ever ready to espouse the popular cause. Thus, when the
court party, headed by Lord Bute, vainly strove to crush the demagogue
John Wilkes, and certain prisoners were being tried at the Old Bailey
for riot and wounding, a crowd collected outside the Mansion House
carrying a gibbet on which hung a boot and a petticoat. The mayor
interfered and a fray began. Weapons were used, some of the lord
mayor's servants were wounded, and one of the prisoners was rescued by
the mob. Sometimes the disturbance had its origin in trade jealousies.
An especially turbulent class were the footmen, chair-men, and
body-servants of the aristocracy. The Footmen's Riot at Drury Lane
Theatre, which occurred in 1737, was a serious affair. It had long been
the custom to admit the parti-coloured tribe, as the licensed lackeys
are called in contemporary accounts, to the upper gallery of that
theatre gratis, out of compliment to their masters on whom they were
in attendance. Then, when established among "the gods," they comported
themselves with extraordinary license; they impudently insulted the
rest of the audience, who, unlike themselves, had paid for admission,
and "assuming the prerogative of critics, hissed or applauded with the
most offensive clamour." Finding the privilege of free entrance thus
scandalously abused, Mr. Fleetwood, the manager, suspended the free
list. This gave great offence to the footmen, who proceeded to take
the law into their own hands. "They conceived," as it was stated in
_Fog's Weekly Journal_, "that they had an indefeasible hereditary right
to the said gallery, and that this expulsion was a high infringement
of their liberties." Accordingly, one Saturday night a great number
of them—quite three hundred, it was said—assembled at Drury Lane
doors, armed with staves and truncheons, and "well fortified with
three-threads and two-penny."[323:1] The night selected was one when
the performance was patronized by royalty, and the Prince and Princess
of Wales, with other members of the royal family, were in the theatre.
The rioters attacked the stage door and forced it open, "bearing down
all the box-keepers, candle-snuffers, supernumeraries, and pippin
women that stood in the way." In this onslaught some five and twenty
respectable people were desperately wounded. Fortunately Colonel de
Veil, an active Westminster justice, happened to be in the house, and
at once interposed. He ordered the Riot Act to be read, but "so great
was the confusion," says the account, "that they might as well have
read Cæsar's 'Commentaries.'" Colonel de Veil then got the assistance
of some of the guards, and with them seized several of the principal
rioters, whom he committed to Newgate.
These prisoners were looked upon as martyrs to the great cause,
and while in gaol were liberally supplied with all luxuries by the
subscription of their brethren. They were, however, brought to trial,
convicted of riot, and sentenced to imprisonment. This did not quite
end the disturbance. Anonymous letters poured into the theatre,
threatening Fleetwood and vowing vengeance. The following is a
specimen:
"SIR:—We are willing to admonish you before we
attempt our design; and provide you use us civil and admit
us into your gallery, which is our property according to
formalities, and if you think proper to come to a composition
this way you'll hear no further; and if not, our intention is
to combine in a body, incognito, and reduce the playhouse to
the ground. Valuing no detection, we are
INDEMNIFIED."
The manager carried these letters to the Lord Chamberlain and appealed
to him for protection. A detachment of the guards, fifty strong, was
ordered to do duty at the theatre nightly, and "thus deterred the saucy
knaves from carrying their threats into execution. From this time,"
says the "Newgate Calendar," "the gallery has been purged of such
vermin."
The footmen and male servants generally of this age were an idle,
dissolute race. From among them the ranks of the highwaymen were
commonly recruited, and it was very usual for the gentleman's
gentleman, who had long flaunted in his master's apparel, and imitated
his master's vices, to turn gentleman on the road to obtain funds for
the faro-table and riotous living. A large proportion of the most
famous highwaymen of the eighteenth century had been in service
at some time or other. Hawkins, James Maclane, John Rann, William
Page, had all worn the livery coat. John Hawkins had been butler in
a gentleman's family, but lost his place when the plate chest was
robbed, and suspicion fell upon him because he was flush of money.
Hawkins, without a character, was unable to get a fresh place, and he
took at once to the road. His operations, which were directed chiefly
against persons of quality, were conducted in and about London. He
stopped and robbed the Earl of Burlington, Lord Bruce, and the Earl of
Westmoreland, the latter in Lincoln's Inn Fields. When he got valuable
jewels he carried them over to Holland and disposed of them for
cash, which he squandered at once in a "hell," for he was a rash and
inveterate gambler.
Working with two associates, he made his headquarters at a public-house
in the London Wall, the master of which kept a livery-stable, and
shared in the booty. From this point they rode out at all hours and
stopped the stages as they came into town laden with passengers. One
of the gang was, however, captured in the act of robbing the mail
and executed at Aylesbury. After this, by way of revenge, they all
determined to turn mail-robbers. They first designed to stop the
Harwich mail, but changed their mind as its arrival was uncertain,
being dependent on the passage of the packet-boat, and determined to
rob the Bristol mail instead. They overtook the boy carrying the bags
near Slough, and made him go down a lane where they tied him to a tree
in a wet ditch, ransacked the Bath and Bristol bags, and hurried off by
a circuitous route to London, where they divided the spoil, sharing the
bank-notes and throwing the letters into the fire. Soon after this, the
post-office having learned that the public-house in the London Wall was
the resort of highwaymen, it was closely watched. One of Hawkins's gang
became alarmed, and was on the point of bolting to Newcastle when he
was arrested. He was hesitating whether or not he should confess, when
he found that he had been forestalled by an associate, who had already
given information to the post-office, and he also made a clean breast
of it all. The rest of the gang were taken at their lodgings in the
Old Bailey, but not without a fight, and committed to Newgate. Hawkins
tried to set up an alibi, and an innkeeper swore that he lodged with
him at Bedfordbury on the night of the robbery; but the jury found him
guilty, and he was hanged at Tyburn, his body being afterwards hung in
chains on Hounslow Heath.
The defence of an alibi was very frequently pleaded by highwaymen,
and the tradition of its utility may explain why that veteran and
astute coachman, Mr. Weller, suggested it in the case of "Bardell
_v._ Pickwick." In one genuine case, however, it nearly failed, and
two innocent men were all but sacrificed to mistaken identity.
They had been arrested for having robbed, on the Uxbridge road, a
learned sergeant-at-law, Sir Thomas Davenport, who swore positively
to both. His evidence was corroborated by that of Lady Davenport, and
by the coachman and footman. Also the horses ridden by the supposed
highwaymen, one a brown and the other a gray, were produced in the Old
Bailey courtyard, and sworn to. Yet it was satisfactorily proved that
both the prisoners were respectable residents of Kentish town; that
one, at the exact time of the robbery, was seated at table dining at
some club anniversary dinner, and never left the club-room; that the
other was employed continuously in the bar of a public-house kept by
his mother. It was proved too that the prisoners owned a brown and a
gray horse respectively. The judge summed up in the prisoners' favour,
and they were acquitted. But both suffered severe mental trouble from
the unjust accusation. A few years later the actual robbers were
convicted of another offence, and in the cells of Newgate confessed
that it was they who had stopped Sir Thomas Davenport.
A very notorious highwayman, who had also been in service at one time
of his varied career, was James Maclane. He was the son of a dissenting
minister in Monaghan, and had a brother a minister at The Hague.
Maclane inherited a small fortune, which he speedily dissipated, after
which he became a gentleman's butler, lost his situation through
dishonesty, determined to enlist in the Horse Guards, abandoned the
idea, and turned fortune-hunter. He was a vain man, of handsome
exterior, which he decked out in smart clothes on borrowed money. He
succeeded at length in winning the daughter of a respectable London
horse-dealer, and with her dowry of £500 set up in business as a
grocer. His wife dying early, he at once turned his stock in trade into
cash, and again looked to win an heiress, "by the gracefulness of his
person and the elegance of his appearance." He was at last reduced to
his last shilling, and being quite despondent, an Irish apothecary,
who was a daring robber, persuaded him to take to the highway. One
of his earliest exploits was to stop Horace Walpole when the latter
was passing through Hyde Park. A pistol went off accidentally in this
encounter, and the bullet not only grazed Walpole's cheek-bone, but
went through the roof of the carriage. At this time Maclane had a
lodging in St. James's Street, for which he paid two guineas a week;
his accomplice Plunkett lived in Jermyn Street. "Their faces," says
Horace Walpole, "are as well known about St. James's as any gentleman's
who lives in that quarter, and who perhaps goes upon the road too."
Maclane accounted for his style of living by putting out that he had
Irish property worth £700 a year. Once when he had narrowly escaped
capture he went over to his brother in Holland for safety, and when
the danger was passed he returned and recommenced his depredations. He
made so good a show that he was often received into respectable houses,
and was once near marrying a young lady of good position; but he was
recognized and exposed by a gentleman who knew him. Maclane continued
to rob, with still greater boldness, till the 26th June, 1750. On this
day he and Plunkett robbed the Earl of Eglinton on Hounslow Heath.
Later in the day they stopped and rifled the Salisbury stage, and
among the booty carried off two portmanteaus, which were conveyed to
Maclane's lodgings in St. James's. Information of this robbery was
quickly circulated, with a description of the stolen goods. Maclane had
stripped the lace off a waistcoat, the property of one of his victims,
and recklessly offered it for sale to the very laceman from whom it
had been purchased. He also sent for another salesman, who immediately
recognized the clothes offered as those which had been stolen, and
pretending to go home for more money, he fetched a constable and
apprehended Maclane. He made an elaborate defence when brought to
trial, but it availed him little, and he was sentenced to death. While
under condemnation he became quite a popular hero. "The first Sunday
after his trial," says Horace Walpole, "three thousand people went to
see him. He fainted away twice with the heat of his cell. You can't
conceive the ridiculous rage there is for going to Newgate; and the
prints that are published of the malefactors, and the memoirs of their
lives, set forth with as much parade as Marshal Turenne's." Maclane
suffered at Tyburn amidst a great concourse.
William Page did a better business as a highwayman than Maclane. Page
was apprenticed to a haberdasher, but he was a consummate coxcomb, who
neglected his shop to dress in the fashion and frequent public places.
His relations turned him adrift, and when in the last stage of distress
he accepted a footman's place. It was while in livery that he first
heard of what highwaymen could do, and conceived the idea of adopting
the road as a profession. His first exploits were on the Kentish road,
when he stopped the Canterbury stage; his next near Hampton Court. When
he had collected some £200 he took lodgings in Lincoln's Inn Fields and
passed as a student of law. He learnt to dance, frequented assemblies,
and was on the point of marrying well, when he was recognized as
a discharged footman, and turned out-of-doors. He continued his
depredations all this time, assisted by a curious map which he had
himself drawn, giving the roads round London for twenty miles. His
plan was to drive out in a phaeton and pair. When at a distance from
town he would turn into some unfrequented place and disguise himself
with a grizzle or black wig and put on other clothes. Then saddling
one of his phaeton horses, he went on to the main road and committed
a robbery. This effected, he galloped back to his carriage, resumed
his former dress, and drove to London. He was often cautioned against
himself; but laughingly said that he had already lost his money once
and could now only lose his coat and shirt. He was nearly detected on
one occasion, when some haymakers discovered his empty phaeton and
drove it off with his best clothes. He had just stopped some people,
who pursued the haymakers with the carriage and accused them of being
accomplices in the robbery. Page heard of this, and throwing the
disguise into a well, went back to town nearly naked, where he claimed
the carriage, saying the men had stripped him and thrown him into a
ditch. The coach-builder swore that he had sold him the carriage, and
they were committed for trial, but Page did not appear to prosecute.
Page after this extended his operations, and in company with one
Darwell, an old schoolfellow, committed more than three hundred
robberies in three years. He frequented Bath, Tunbridge, Newmarket, and
Scarbro', playing deep everywhere and passing for a man of fortune.
Darwell and he next "worked" the roads around London, but while the
former was near Sevenoaks he was captured by Justice Fielding. He
turned evidence against Page, who was arrested in consequence at the
Golden Lion near Hyde Park, with a wig to disguise him in one pocket
and his map of the London roads in another. He was remanded to Newgate
and tried for a robbery, of which he was acquitted; then removed to
Maidstone and convicted of another, for which he was hanged at that
place in 1758.
John Rann was first a helper, then postboy, then coachman to several
gentlemen of position. While in this capacity he dressed in a peculiar
fashion, wearing breeches with eight strings at each knee, and was
hence nicknamed Sixteen-string Jack. Having lost his character he
turned pickpocket, and then took to the road. He was soon afterwards
arrested for robbing a gentleman of a watch and some money on the
Hounslow road. The watch was traced to a woman with whom Rann kept
company, who owned that she had had it from him. Rann denied all
knowledge of the transaction, which could not be brought home to him.
He appeared in court on this occasion in an extravagant costume. His
irons were tied up with blue ribbons, and he carried in his breast a
bouquet of flowers "as big as a broom." He was fond of fine feathers.
Soon afterwards he appeared at a public-house in Bagnigge Wells,
dressed in a scarlet coat, tambour waistcoat, white silk stockings,
and laced hat. He gave himself out quite openly as a highwayman, and
getting drunk and troublesome, he was put out of the house through a
window into the road. Later on he appeared at Barnet races in elegant
sporting style, his waistcoat being blue satin trimmed with silver. On
this occasion he was followed by hundreds who knew him, and wished to
stare at a man who had made himself so notorious. At last he stopped
Dr. Bell, chaplain to the Princess Amelia, in the Uxbridge Road, and
robbed him of eighteen pence and a common watch in a tortoise-shell
case; the latter was traced to the same woman already mentioned, and
Rann was arrested coming into her house. Dr. Bell swore to him, and
his servant declared that he had seen Rann riding up Acton Hill twenty
minutes before the robbery. Rann was convicted on this evidence and
suffered at Tyburn, in 1774, after a short career of four years. It was
not the first time he had seen the gallows. A short time previously he
had attended a public execution, and forcing his way into the ring kept
by the constables, begged that he might be allowed to stand there, as
he might some day be an actor in the scene instead of a spectator.
The road was usually the last resource of the criminally inclined, the
last fatal step in the downward career which ended abruptly at the
gallows. Dissolute and depraved youths of all classes, often enough
gentlemen, undoubtedly well-born, adopted this dangerous profession
when at their wit's ends for funds. William Butler, who did his work
accompanied by his servant Jack, was the son of a military officer.
Kent and Essex was his favourite line of country, but London was his
headquarters, where they lived in the "genteelest lodgings, Jack
wearing a livery, and the squire dressed in the most elegant manner."
A baronet, Sir Simon Clarke, was convicted of highway robbery at
Winchester assizes, with an associate, Lieutenant Robert Arnott;
although the former, by the strenuous exertions of his country friends,
escaped the death penalty to which he had been sentenced. A very
notorious highwayman executed in 1750 was William Parson, the son of a
baronet, who had been at Eton, and bore a commission in the Royal Navy.
He had hopes of an inheritance from the Duchess of Northumberland, who
was a near relative, but her Grace altered her will in favour of his
sister. He left the navy in a hurry, and, abandoned by his friends,
became quite destitute, when his father got him an appointment in
the Royal African Company's service. But he soon quarrelled with the
governor of Fort James on the Gambia, and returned to England again
so destitute that he lived on three halfpence for four days and drank
water from the street pumps. His father now told him to enlist in
the Life Guards, but the necessary purchase-money, seventy guineas,
was not forthcoming. He then, by personating a brother, obtained an
advance on a legacy which an aunt had left the brother, and with these
funds made so good a show that he managed to marry a young lady of
independent fortune, whose father was dead and had bequeathed her a
handsome estate. His friends were so delighted that they obtained him
a commission as ensign in a marching regiment, the 34th. He immediately
launched out into extravagant expenditure, took a house in Poland
Street, kept three saddle-horses, a chaise and pair, and a retinue of
servants. He also fell into the hands of a noted gambler and sharper,
who induced him to play high, and fleeced him. Parsons was compelled to
sell his commission to meet his liabilities, and still had to evade his
creditors by hiding under a false name.
From this time he became an irreclaimable vagabond, put to all sorts
of shifts, and adroit in all kinds of swindles, to raise means.
Having starved for some time, he shipped as captain of marines on
board a galley-privateer. He returned and lived by forgery and fraud.
One counterfeit draft he drew was on the Duke of Cumberland for
£500; another on Sir Joseph Hankey & Co. He defrauded tailors out of
new uniforms, and a hatter of 160 hats, which he pretended he had
contracted to supply to his regiment. He also robbed a jeweller, by a
pretended marriage, of a wedding and several valuable diamond rings.
In the '45 he borrowed a horse from an officer intending to join the
rebels, but he only rode as far as Smithfield, where he sold the nag,
and let the officer be arrested as a supposed traitor. He was arrested
for obtaining money on a false draft at Ranelagh, tried at Maidstone,
sentenced to transportation, and despatched to Virginia. There, "after
working as a common slave about seven weeks," a certain Lord F.
rescued him and took him as a guest into his house. Parsons robbed Lord
F. of a horse and took the highway. With the proceeds of his first
robbery he got a passage back to England. On arriving at Whitehaven,
he represented himself as having come into a large estate, and a
banker advanced him seventy pounds. With this he came on to London,
took lodgings in the West End, near Hyde Park corner, and rapidly got
through his cash. Then he hired a horse and rode out on to Hounslow
Heath to stop the first person he met.
This became his favourite hunting-ground, although he did business also
about Kensington and Turnham Green. Once having learnt that a footman
was to join his master at Windsor with a portmanteau full of notes and
money, he rode out to rob him, but was recognized by an old victim.
The latter let him enter the town of Hounslow, then ordered him to
surrender. He might still have escaped, but the landlord of the inn
where he lodged thought he answered the description of a highwayman who
had long infested the neighbourhood. Parsons was accordingly detained
and removed to Newgate. He was easily identified, and his condemnation
for returning from transportation followed as a matter of course. His
father and his wife used all their interest to gain him a pardon, but
he was deemed too old an offender to be a fit object for mercy.
Paul Lewis was another reprobate, who began life as a king's officer.
He was the son of a country clergyman, who got him a commission in the
train of artillery; but Lewis ran into debt, deserted from his corps,
and took to the sea. He entered the Royal Navy, and rose to be first
midshipman, then lieutenant. Although courageous in action, he was
"wicked and base;" and while on board the fleet he collected three
guineas apiece from his messmates to lay in stores for the West Indian
voyages, and bolted with the money. He at once took to the road. His
first affair was near Newington Butts, when he robbed a gentleman in
a chaise. He was apprehended for this offence, but escaped conviction
through an alibi; after this he committed a variety of robberies. He
was captured by a police officer on a night that he had first stopped a
lady and gentleman in a chaise, and then tried to rob a Mr. Brown, at
whom he fired. Mr. Brown's horse took fright and threw him; but when
he got to his feet he found his assailant pinned to the ground by Mr.
Pope, the police officer, who was kneeling on his breast. It seemed
the lady and gentleman, Lewis's first victims, had warned Pope that a
highwayman was about, and the police officer had ridden forward quickly
and seized Lewis at the critical moment. Lewis was conveyed to Newgate,
and in due course sentenced to death. "Such was the baseness and
unfeeling profligacy of this wretch," says the Newgate Calendar, "that
when his almost heart-broken father visited him for the last time in
Newgate, and put twelve guineas into his hand to repay his expenses,
he slipped one of the pieces of gold into the cuff of his sleeve by a
dexterous sleight, and then opening his hand, showed the venerable and
reverend old man that there were but eleven; upon which his father took
another from his pocket and gave it him to make the number intended.
Having then taken a last farewell of his parent, Lewis turned round to
his fellow prisoners, and exultingly exclaimed, 'I have flung the old
fellow out of another guinea.'"
Pope's capture of the highwayman Lewis was outdone by that of William
Belchier, a few years previous, by William Norton, a person who,
according to his own account of himself, kept a shop in Wych Street,
and who "sometimes took a thief." Norton at the trial told his story
as follows. "The chaise to Devizes having been robbed two or three
times, as I was informed, I was desired to go into it, to see if I
could take the thief, which I did on the third of June, about half an
hour after one in the morning. I got into the post-chaise; the post-boy
told me the place where he had been stopped was near the half-way
house between Knightsbridge and Kensington. As we came near the house
the prisoner (Belchier) came to us on foot and said, 'Driver, stop.'
He held a pistol and tinder-box to the chaise, and said: 'Your money
directly, you must not stop; this minute, your money.' I said, 'Don't
frighten us, I have but a trifle—you shall have it.' Then I said to
the gentlemen,—there were three in the chaise,—'Give your money.' I
took out a pistol from my coat pocket, and from my breeches pocket a
five-shilling piece and a dollar. I held the pistol concealed in one
hand and the money in the other. I held the money pretty hard. He said,
'Put it in my hat.' I let him take the five-shilling piece out of my
hand. As soon as he had taken it I snapped my pistol at him. It did not
go off. He staggered back and held up his hands, and said, 'Oh, Lord!
oh, Lord!' I jumped out of the chaise; he ran away, and I after him
about six or seven hundred yards, and then took him. I hit him a blow
on his back; he begged for mercy on his knees. I took his neckcloth off
and tied his hands with it, and brought him back to the chaise. Then I
told the gentlemen in the chaise that was the errand I came upon, and
wished them a good journey, and brought the prisoner to London."
No account of the thief-taking or of the criminality of the eighteenth
century would be complete without some reference to Jonathan Wild.
What this astute villain really was may be best gathered from the
various sworn informations on which he was indicted. It was set forth
that he had been for years the confederate of highwaymen, pickpockets,
burglars, shoplifters, and other thieves; that he had formed a kind of
corporation of thieves of which he was head, or director, and that,
despite his pretended efforts at detection, he procured none to be
hanged but those who concealed their booty or refused him his share.
It was said that he had divided the town and country into districts,
and had appointed distinct gangs to each, who accounted to him for
their robberies; that he employed another set to rob in churches
during divine service, and other "moving detachments to attend at
court on birthdays and balls, and at the Houses of Parliament." His
chosen agents were returned transports, who lay quite at his mercy.
They could not be evidence against him, and if they displeased him he
could at any time have them hanged. These felons he generally lodged
in a house of his own, where he fed and clothed them, and used them in
clipping guineas or counterfeiting coin. Wild at last had the audacity
to occupy a house in the Old Bailey, opposite the present Sessions
House. He himself had been a confederate in numerous robberies; in
all cases he was a receiver of the goods stolen; he had under his
care several warehouses for concealing the same, and owned a vessel
for carrying off jewels, watches, and other valuables to Holland,
where he had a superannuated thief for a factor. He also kept in his
pay several artists to make alterations and transform watches, seals,
snuff-boxes, rings, so that they might not be recognized, which he used
to present to people who could be of service to him. It was alleged
that he generally claimed as much as half the value of all articles
which he pretended to recover, and that he never gave up bank-notes or
paper unless the loser could exactly specify them. "In order to carry
out these vile practices, and to gain some credit with the ignorant
multitude, he usually carried a short silver staff as a badge of
authority from the government, which he used to produce when he himself
was concerned in robbing." Last of all he was charged with selling
human blood; in other words, of procuring false evidence to convict
innocent persons; sometimes to prevent them from giving evidence
against himself, and at other times for the sake of the great reward
offered by the government.
Wild's career was brought to an abrupt conclusion by the revelations
made by two of his creatures. He absconded, but was pursued, captured,
and committed to Newgate. He was tried on several indictments, but
convicted on that of having maintained a secret correspondence with
felons, receiving money for restoring stolen goods, and dividing it
with the thieves whom he did not prosecute. While under sentence of
death he made desperate attempts to obtain a pardon, but in vain, and
at last tried to evade the gallows by taking a large dose of laudanum.
This also failed, and he was conveyed to Tyburn amidst the execrations
of a countless mob of people, who pelted him with stones and dirt all
the way. Among other curious facts concerning this arch-villain, it is
recorded that when at the acme of his prosperity, Jonathan Wild was
ambitious of becoming a freeman of the city of London. His petition
to this effect is contained among the records of the town clerk's
office, and sets forth that the petitioner "has been at great trouble
and charge in apprehending and convicting divers felons for returning
from transportation from Oct. 1720 . . . that your petitioner has never
received any reward or gratuity for such his service, that he is very
desirous of becoming a freeman of this honourable city. . . ." The names
follow, and include Moll King, John Jones, etc., "who were notorious
street robbers." The petition is endorsed as "read Jan. 2d, 1724," but
the result is not stated.
Before closing this chapter I must refer briefly to another class of
highway robbers—the pirates and rovers who ranged the high seas in
the first half of the eighteenth century. There were sometimes as many
as sixty or seventy pirates at a time awaiting trial in Newgate, about
this period. In those days there was no efficient ocean police, no
perpetual patrolling by war-ships of all nations to prevent and put
down piracy as a crime noxious to all. Later, on the ascendency of
the British navy, this duty was more or less its peculiar province;
but till then every sea was infested with pirates sailing under
various flags. The growth of piracy has been attributed, no doubt with
reason, to the narrow policy of Spain with regard to her transatlantic
colonies. To baffle this colonial system the European powers long
tolerated, even encouraged these reckless filibusters, who did not
confine their ravages to the Spanish-American coast, but turned their
hands, like nautical Ishmaels, against all the world. The mischief
thus done was incalculable. About 1720, one notorious rover, Captain
Roberts, took four hundred sail. They were as clever in obtaining
information as to the movements of rich prizes on the seas as were
highwaymen concerning the traffic along the highroads. They were
particularly cunning in avoiding war-ships, and knew exactly where to
run for supplies. As Captain Johnson tells us, speaking of the West
Indies in the opening pages of his "History of Pirates," "they have
been so formidable and numerous that they have interrupted the trade
of Europe in those parts; and our English merchants in particular have
suffered more by their depredations than by the united force of France
and Spain in the late war."
Pirates were the curse of the North American waters when Lord Bellamont
went as Governor of New England in 1695, and no one was supposed to
be more in their secrets at that time, or more conversant with their
haunts and hiding-place, than a certain Captain John Kidd, of New
York, who owned a small vessel, and traded with the West Indies. Lord
Bellamont's instructions were to put down piracy if he could, and
Kidd was recommended to him as a fitting person to employ. For some
reason or other Kidd was denied official status; but it was pointed
out to Lord Bellamont that, as the affair would not well admit delay,
"it was worthy of being undertaken by some private persons of rank
and distinction, and carried into execution at their own expense,
notwithstanding public encouragement was denied to it." Eventually
the Lord Chancellor, Lord Somers, the Duke of Shrewsbury, the Earl
of Romney, the Earl of Oxford, with some others, subscribed a sum of
£6,000 to fit out an expedition from England, of which Kidd was to have
the command; and he was granted a commission by letters patent under
the great seal to take and seize pirates, and bring them to justice.
The profits of the adventure, less a fifth, which went to Kidd and
another, were to be pocketed by the promoters of the enterprise, and
this led subsequently to a charge of complicity with the pirates, which
proved very awkward, especially for Lords Orford and Somers.
Kidd sailed for New York in the _Adventure_ galley, and soon hoisted
the black flag. From New York he steered for Madeira, thence to the
Cape of Good Hope, and on to Madagascar. He captured all that came
in his way. French ships, Portuguese, "Moorish," even English ships
engaged in legitimate and peaceful trade. Kidd shifted his flag to one
of his prizes, and in her returned to the Spanish main for supplies.
Thence he sailed for various ports of the West Indies, and having
disposed of much of his booty, steered for Boston. He had been
preceded there by a merchant who knew of his piratical proceedings, and
gave information to Lord Bellamont. Kidd was accordingly arrested on
his arrival in New England.
A full report was sent home, and a man-of-war, the _Rochester_,
despatched to bring Kidd to England for trial. As the _Rochester_
became disabled, and Kidd's arrival was delayed, very great public
clamour arose, caused and fed by political prejudices against Lord
Bellamont and the other great lords, who were accused of an attempt to
shield Kidd. It was moved in the House of Commons that the "letters
patent granted to the Earl of Bellamont and others respecting the goods
taken from pirates were dishonourable to the king, against the law of
nations, contrary to the laws and statutes of the realm, an invasion
of property, and destructive to commerce." The motion was opposed, but
the political opponents of Lord Somers and Lord Orford continued to
accuse them of giving countenance to pirates, while Lord Bellamont was
deemed no less culpable. The East India Company, which had suffered
greatly by Kidd's depredations, and which had been refused letters of
marque to suppress piracy in the Indian Ocean, joined in the clamour,
and petitioned that Captain Kidd "might be brought to speedy trial, and
that the effects taken unjustly from the subjects of the Great Mogul
may be returned to them as a satisfaction for their losses."
It was ruled at last that Kidd should be examined at the bar of the
House of Commons, with the idea of "fixing part of his guilt on the
parties who had been concerned in sending him on his expedition." Kidd
was accordingly brought to England and lodged first in the Marshalsea,
the prison of the Admiralty Court, and afterward committed to Newgate.
It was rumoured that Lord Halifax, who shared the political odium of
Lord Somers and Orford, had sent privately for Kidd from Newgate to
tamper with him, but "the keeper of the gaol on being sent for averred
that it was false." It is more probable that the other side endeavoured
to get Kidd to bear witness against Lord Somers and the rest; but at
the bar of the House, where he made a very contemptible appearance,
being in some degree intoxicated, Kidd fully exonerated them. "Kidd
discovered little or nothing," says Luttrell. In their subsequent
impeachment they were, notwithstanding, charged with having been Kidd's
accomplices, but the accusation broke down.
Kidd in the meantime had been left to his fate. He was tried with his
crew on several indictments for murder and piracy at the Admiralty
Sessions of the Old Bailey, and hung in 1701. He must have prospered
greatly in his short and infamous career. According to Luttrell, his
effects were valued at £200,000, and one witness alone, Cogi Baba, a
Persian merchant, charged him with robbing him in the Persian Gulf
of £60,000. No case was made out against the above mentioned peers.
Lord Orford set up in his defence that in Kidd's affair he had acted
legally, and with a good intention towards the public, though to
his own loss; and Lord Somers denied that he had ever seen or known
anything of Kidd. Hume sums up the matter by declaring that "the
Commons in the whole course of the transaction had certainly acted from
motives of faction and revenge." Other ventures are of interest.
John Gow, who took the piratical name of Captain Smith, was second mate
of the _George_ galley, which he conspired with half the crew to seize
when on the voyage to Santa Cruz. On a given signal, the utterance of
a password, "Who fires first?" an attack was made on the first mate,
surgeon, and supercargo, whose throats were cut. The captain, hearing
a noise, came on deck, when one mutineer cut his throat, and a second
fired a couple of balls into his body. The ship's company consisted of
twenty: four were now disposed of, eight were conspirators, and of the
remaining eight, some of whom had concealed themselves below decks and
some in the shrouds, four had joined the pirates. The other four were
closely watched, and although allowed to range the ship at pleasure,
were often cruelly beaten. The ship was rechristened _The Revenge_;
she mounted several guns, and the pirates steered her for the coast
of Spain, where several prizes were taken—the first a ship laden
with salted cod from Newfoundland, the second a Scotch ship bound to
Italy with a cargo of pickled herrings, the third a French ship laden
with oil, wine, and fruit. The pirates also made a descent upon the
Portuguese coast and laid the people under contributions.
Dissensions now arose in the ship's company. Gow had a certain amount
of sense and courage, but his lieutenant was a brutal ruffian, often
blinded by passion, and continually fermenting discord. At last he
attempted to shoot Gow, but his pistol missed fire, and he was wounded
himself by two of the pirates. He sprang down to the powder-room and
threatened to blow up the ship, but he was secured, and put on board
a vessel which had been ransacked and set free, the commander of it
being desired to hand the pirate over to the first king's ship he
met, to be dealt with according to his crimes. After this the pirates
steered north for the Orkneys, of which Gow was a native, and after
a safe passage anchored in a bay of one of the islands. While lying
there one of his crew, who had been forced into joining them, escaped
to Kirkwall, where he gave information to a magistrate, and the sheriff
issued a precept to the constables and others to seize _The Revenge_.
Soon afterwards ten more of the crew, also unwilling members of it,
laid hands on the long-boat, and reaching the mainland of Scotland,
coasted along it as far as Leith, whence they made their way to
Edinburgh, and were imprisoned as pirates. Gow meanwhile, careless
of danger, lingered in the Orkneys, plundering and ransacking the
dwelling-houses to provide himself with provisions, and carrying off
plate, linen, and all valuables on which they could lay hands.
Arriving at an island named Calf Sound, Gow planned the robbery of
an old schoolmate, a Mr. Fea, whom he sought to entrap. But Mr. Fea
turned the tables upon him. Inviting Gow and several of the crew to
an entertainment on shore, while they were carousing Mr. Fea made
his servants seize the pirates' boat, and then entering by different
doors, fell upon the pirates themselves, and made all prisoners. The
rest, twenty-eight in number, who were still afloat, were also captured
by various artifices, and the whole, under orders of the Lord Chief
Justice, were despatched to the Thames in H. M. S. _Greyhound_, for
trial at the Admiralty Court. They were committed to the Marshalsea,
thence to Newgate, and arraigned at the Old Bailey, where Gow refused
to plead, and was sentenced to be pressed to death. He pretended that
he wished to save an estate for a relation; but when all preparations
for carrying out the sentence were completed, he begged to be allowed
to plead, and "the judge being informed, humanely granted his request."
Gow and six others were eventually hanged at Execution Dock.
Pirates who fell in with ships usually sought to gain recruits among
the captured crews. The alternative was to walk the plank or to be
set adrift in an open boat, or landed on an uninhabited island. For
those who thus agreed under compulsion a still harder fate was often
in store. Captain Massey was an unfortunate instance of this. While
serving in the Royal African Company he was for some time engaged in
the construction of a fort upon the coast with a detachment of men.
They ran short of food, and suffered frightfully from flux. When at the
point of death a passing ship noticed their signals of distress, and
sent a boat on shore to bring them on board. The ship proved to be a
pirate. Captain Massey did not actually join them, but he remained on
board while several prizes were taken. However, he gave information at
Jamaica, the pirate captain and others were arrested and hanged, and
Captain Massey received the thanks of the governor, who offered him an
appointment on the island. But Massey was anxious to return to England,
whither he proceeded armed with strong letters of recommendation to
the lords of the Admiralty. To his intense surprise, "instead of being
caressed he was taken into custody," tried, and eventually executed.
His case evoked great sympathy. "His joining the pirates was evidently
an act of necessity, not choice," and he took the earliest opportunity
of giving up his involuntary associates to justice—a conduct by which
he surely merited the thanks of his country, and not the vengeance of
the law.
From the foregoing account it is easy to draw conclusions concerning
the state of public morals and manners in the eighteenth century. Both
the atrocity of the crimes and the barbarity of the punishments surpass
everything the twentieth century can show, while to the populace
generally the highwayman and the bully were heroes. Though our century
is by no means free from crime, we may congratulate ourselves that
we have advanced beyond the eighteenth, at least so far as crimes of
violence are concerned.
END OF VOLUME I.
FOOTNOTES:
[323:1] Cant names of the period for drinks.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
The following corrections have been made to the original text:
Page 56: perfect type of the brutal gaoler[original has
"goaler"]
Page 63: In London crime was rampant[original has "rampart"].
Page 75: Another certificate states that William[original has
"Wililam"] Dominic
Page 77: a warrant may be made for his banishment.[period
missing in original]
Page 82: the "verser," and the "[quotation mark missing in
original]barnacle;"
Page 99: when brought up at Westminster[original has
"Westminister"] for perjury
Page 99: charged by a cheesemonger[original has
"chesemonger"] as being the man
Page 137: [quotation mark missing in original]"For long there
was nothing among them
Page 154: On the death of the king (William[original has
"Wililam"] III)
Page 159: found on his person when he accidentally[original
has "acidentally"] meets
Page 186: execution was done: he[original has "He"] delaying
the time
Page 199: calm spirit, without prayer-book or psalm.[original
has extraneous quotation mark]
Page 209: the prisoners are kept in the strictest
order."[quotation mark missing in original]
Page 220: well-applied jerk, snapped asunder[original has
"assunder"] the central link
Page 249: Housebreaking was of frequent occurrence[original
has "ocurence"] by night.
Page 253: duty, and promise not to molest them.[original has
a comma]