THE LAST OF THE PIRATES
"You know that a great many of the most famous pirates were really
rather small potatoes. Take Captain Kidd, for instance. Why, they
are still disputing whether he was a pirate or not. If he was one,
he didn't take to it until late in life, and he'd been a perfectly
respectable sailor up to that time. They sent him out to catch
pirates, and according to one story he turned pirate himself."
"Well, they hung him for something," said Captain Bannister.
"Yes, sir. They did that because they said he was a pirate, and
that he murdered his mate. He said his mate mutinied, and that he
was justified in killing him. There were a lot of others who went
out to catch pirates, but ended by turning pirates themselves.
Then there were some who just carried on pirating as a kind of
branch business, when other things were dull. What respect can you
have for that kind of a pirate? Some of 'em were wreckers part of
the time, and pirates the other part."
"What are wreckers?" I asked.
"Why, they," explained Mr. Daddles, "made a living by what they
could steal from wrecks. Either they stayed on dangerous shores
and waited for a wreck, or they would deceive sailors by building
false beacons at night so as to toll the ships upon the rocks.
That was a pretty mean sort of thing! They couldn't pick out a
rich galleon, all full of gold ingots, and then fight for the
treasure, like pirates and gentlemen! No; they had to take
whatever came along, and, like as not, all they would get would be
a miserable fishing-shack, loaded with hake and halibut! A real,
simon-pure pirate would have refused to shake hands with a low-
down wrecker, and it would have served him right, too.
"But Black Pedro was the very top-notcher of them all, the finest
flower of piracy. He didn't go pirating just during the summer
months, when his other business was slack. And he would have died
before he'd have been a wrecker. It was a profession, with him.
And an inherited one, too. He was the third of the name. He
started in as cabin boy on the ship of his grand-father,--old
Black Pedro the First. The old man, the grand-father, was captured
once by an Admiral of the English Navy, and taken to Tyburn to be
hanged. You see he was such a prominent pirate that they wouldn't
just string him up to the yard arm, like a common buccaneer. He
was tried with the greatest ceremony, and sentenced to death by
the Lord Chief Justice himself. That was a great feather in his
cap. But when they tried to hang him the crowd around the gallows
liked him so well that they started a riot, and in the excitement
he got away, and a year later he was back on the Spanish Main,
pirating again, with all of his old crew who were still alive,--
about eight of 'em.
"He had to get a new ship, for his old one--the 'Panther,'--had
been sunk in the fight with the English Admiral. So he had one
built for him by a firm in San Domingo, who made a specialty of
pirate ships. It was the very latest thing in that kind of vessel,
strong, swift, heavily armed, and luxuriously furnished. The crew
had a social hall for holding their revels and the cabins were fit
for a king. Even The Plank was solid mahogany."
"What plank?" This from Ed Mason.
"WHAT plank? Did you ever hear such a question? I shouldn't think
you'd ever been to school. Why, THE PLANK,--the one that the
pirates' victims have to walk. Didn't you ever hear of walking the
plank?"
"Oh, yes."
"Well, old Black Pedro the First named his new ship 'The Angel of
Death' and he had a picture of the Angel embroidered in black
velvet on his foresail. He was a proud man, I tell you, when he
sailed out of San Domingo on his first voyage. He had a black
velvet suit--made out of some that was left over from the picture
of the Angel--and a red sash around his waist, in the proper
style. This was stuck full of cutlasses and flint-lock pistols,--
four cutlasses and eight pistols. And he had two or three more
pistols in each boot. He had a fierce, black beard, and the most
ferocious face you can imagine. He scared some people to death by
just GLARING at them. And his own son was first mate,--he was
almost as ferocious as old Pedro the First. And HIS son--the
grandson, that is, of Pedro the First--was cabin boy. It was the
boy's first voyage. Before they had been out a week they fell in
with 'El Espiritu Santo,' a private galleon belonging to the King
of Spain. It was loaded with bars of solid gold, and fifteen
chests of gold doubloons. Black Pedro ordered the Jolly Roger
hoisted at all three mast-heads, and went down to his cabin and
stuck six more pistols in his boots. Then the two ships opened
fire on each other with their big guns, and fought for about half
an hour. At the end of that time, the first mate came to the
captain and said:
"'Father, I think it's about time to board her.'
"'Are the scuppers running with blood yet?'
"Pedro the Second went and inspected the scuppers.
"'No,' he said, 'not yet.'
"'Continue firing till they are,' ordered the Captain.
"After about ten minutes more, the mate reported the scuppers
running with blood in the regular manner. Then, and not till then,
did old Pedro give orders to board. That was why he was the prince
of pirates,--it was his attention to details, to the little things
that make up the difference between a real pirate and a mere sea-
thief. You can see what an inheritance the third Pedro had,--how
he was brought up to reverence the best traditions of his calling.
"They laid the 'Angel' alongside the Spanish galleon, and grappled
the two vessels together. Old Pedro led the boarding party, and
when they got to the poop-deck of the galleon they found the
Spanish captain, the first mate, and the cabin-boy waiting for
them with cutlasses. The three Pedros, father, son, and grandson,
engaged them according to rank, and finished them off at the same
moment. The rest of the Spanish crew had been subdued in the
meantime, and it only remained to make them walk the plank, then
transfer the treasure to 'The Angel of Death,' and sail away,
leaving 'El Espiritu Santo' on fire, so she would blow up when the
fire reached her powder magazine.
"When the officers were killed, and the crew and passengers of the
galleon were lined up on deck, awaiting their fate, old Pedro
strode down from the poop-deck, wiping his cutlass.
"'Now,' he said, knowing that all eyes were on him, 'we'll feed
'em to the sharks!'
"And he roared: 'Fetch out The Plank!'
"There was a pause. No one moved.
"'Blood and Bones!' roared old Pedro, 'don't you hear me? Fetch
out The Plank!'
"At this the bo's'n, Aaron Halyard, stepped forward.
"'Oh there you are, are you, Halyard?' bellowed the pirate chief,
'well, why don't you fetch out The Plank? It's your duty,--you're
in charge of it.'
"The bo's'n pulled at his forelock, and bowed to his commander.
"'Beggin' yer pardin, Cap'n,' said he, 'kin I have a word with yer
private-like? Lemme whisper in yer ear, if I may make so bold--'
"'No whispering,' returned his chief, 'no whispering here. What's
the matter with you anyway? And why don't you fetch out The
Plank?'"
'"Well, Cap'n,' said the bo's'n, rubbing his hands together,
nervously, 'you know ME. I've been with you ever since you begun.
I was with you in the days of the old 'Panther,' an'--' "'Cut it
short!' shouted Pedro.
"'Well, Cap'n,' the bo's'n repeated, with his knees knocking
together, 'I never was so mortified in all my life--specially in
front of all the gentry here,' pointing his thumb toward the
Spanish prisoners, 'but the fact is, Cap'n, I've clean forgot
where I put The Plank!'
"'Forgot!' screamed old Pedro.
"'Yessir, plumb forgot. I jus' can't remember for the life of me,
where I put her. I know I brought her aboard myself, an' I'd a-
taken my affydavy I put her under my bunk, but when I looked for
her, when we fust sighted this here galleon, strike me foolish if
she was there at all! I asked the cook about it. He'll tell yer so
hisself--an' he--'
"'Cut it short!' Pedro roared again.
"He glared around him--did old Pedro--like an infuriated lion.
Once he raised his cutlass and seemed about to sweep off the
bo's'n's head with it. At last he said in a choked voice--
"'Well, for goodness' sake, think! Can't you remember what you did
with it?'
"Aaron shook his head dumbly. Then as he stood there, quaking, a
sudden gleam of intelligence came into his eye.
"'That's it!' he said,'that's it. The cook wanted an ironin'
board, he said, and he borrowed it--'
"He broke off, and scrambled hastily over the side of 'The Angel
of Death.' Then he rushed below, and in a few minutes came back,
nervously tearing off some sheets of white cloth, which surrounded
the handsome, hand-carved, mahogany Plank.
"'Lucky for you!' bellowed Pedro, 'now put her in place, boys!'
"His men put her in place and the Spanish crew had the pleasure of
starting the long procession of victims who were to go overboard
by that route in the years to come.
"Such was the first fight of 'The Angel of Death' and just such
success (excepting, of course, the hitch about The Plank) rewarded
the efforts of old Pedro for over twenty years. Up and down the
Spanish Main he sailed, and the sight of that foresail, with its
terrible picture of the Black Angel, struck terror to the heart of
every man afloat. Even men-of-war fought shy of the three Pedros.
Once 'The Angel of Death' rounded the Cape of Good Hope and
attacked a treasure fleet on its way back from the Indies. On that
occasion it captured so many chests of gold doubloons that they
quite blocked up the social hall, where the crew used to hold
their revels, and they had to revel on deck, until 'The Angel of
Death' got back to Rum Island, where they buried their treasure.
"Finally, old Pedro the First was taken sick. There was a fight,
early one morning when the air was very damp, between the 'Angel'
and a rich merchantman. The pirate captain got rather over-heated,
during his usual duel with the captain of the merchantman, and
then he foolishly sat down in a draft while he ate his breakfast.
He had a bad attack of rheumatism, and it made it very hard for
him to scramble over the bulwarks when he led a boarding party to
the enemy's decks. The next time they put in at Rum Island the old
man took his bed, dolefully predicting that his end was near.
"'Just at this season, when the plate-ships are all sailing for
Spain,' he grumbled, 'I don't see what I've done to be put upon
this way.'
"He got worse and worse, however, and the best doctors shook their
heads over his case. He called in his son and grandson, and old
Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n,--the same one who came so near to
botching everything in the first fight. He said good-bye to them
all, and gave some good advice to the youngest Pedro,--who was a
fine, promising boy, by this time. Then he passed away, and they
gave him the biggest funeral that had ever been seen on Rum
Island.
"Of course, Black Pedro the Second took up the work right where
the old pirate had left it. It was the season when the galleons
were starting for Spain, loaded down with gold, and as soon as the
funeral was over, the 'Angel' sailed on her regular autumn trip.
Some of the Spanish captains had heard of the death of old Pedro,
and so they weren't quite as cautious as they should have been.
They found out their mistake very quick, however, and the 'Angel'
had a most profitable voyage. Gold and silver from the mines of
Peru, diamonds from Brazil, rubies and other kinds of precious
stones,--oh, I tell you, the pirates sailed back to Rum Island
that winter, chuckling with glee at the thought of the wealth they
had won. They had with them the Governor General of the Antilles,
a Spanish grandee of the very highest kind. They held him for
ransom, and made the King of Spain pay fifty thousand dollars to
get him back. 'The Angel of Death' got to be such a scourge of the
seas that half a dozen men-of-war were sent out by England, Spain
and Portugal to try to catch her. But she was the fleetest ship on
the ocean, and she always gave them the slip. Once she got caught
in a tight place, between Rum Island and Alligator Key. The
pursuer was a Portuguese man-of-war, and the pirate vessel turned
and fought so fiercely that the enemy was put to flight.
"So it went on for many years. The boy, Pedro, had worked his way
up, by sheer merit--no favoritism--until he was now first mate.
Then it came his father's turn to pass on, as the first Pedro had
passed. The 'Angel' had put in at Alligator Key, for a few weeks
one summer, and while they were there some friend presented the
captain with a water-melon. He ate it at supper that night, and as
it was unripe, it disagreed with him. Several glasses of ice-
water, which he drank with the melon, had the effect of making him
still worse. Next morning another of the Pedros was gone, and
Pedro the Third was now captain of 'The Angel of Death' and leader
of the pirate crew."
Mr. Daddles paused in his story and came and sat down with Ed and
me in the cock-pit.
"When 'The Angel of Death' sailed on her next trip, she was
probably the most dangerous pirate ship that was ever afloat. You
see they were all of them experienced men. They had years of
practice behind them. They knew their ship, and they knew the
ocean. There wasn't a shoal or a passage, an inlet or a creek from
one end of the Spanish Main to the other that they didn't know.
Black Pedro spread terror into far corners of the ocean, where
neither his father nor grand-father had ever been heard of. They
would have been proud indeed, if they could have seen their son.
He wore a black velvet suit, with a red sash, just like his grand-
father before him. That had become the official costume in the
family. He had made no change in it, except to add one or two more
pistols in the sash.
"One autumn, after Black Pedro the Third had been captain for
about a dozen or fifteen years, 'The Angel of Death' had a
terrible fight with the biggest galleon she had ever tackled,--
'The Santa Maria Sanctissima,' a ship so huge that she towered far
above the pirate vessel. While the great guns were roaring, and
the cannon-balls flying, Black Pedro stood amid the smoke, in his
velvet suit, his black beard bristling with rage, and his face
bearing an expression ten times more ferocious than his grand-
father's at its worst. He noted carefully the precise moment when
the scuppers were running with blood, and then gave the signal for
boarding. 'The Santa Maria Sanctissima' was so high that they had
to use scaling-ladders to reach her deck, but the pirates soon
swarmed on board, the captain was slain by Black Pedro, the rest
of the crew walked The Plank, and 'The Angel of Death' sailed back
to Rum Island with her booty.
"It was the richest she had ever captured. 'The Santa Maria
Sanctissima' carried an enormous cargo of gold, intended for a
great castle in Spain, and it took four days to unload the
treasure at the pirates' lair, and six more days to bury it in the
ground. Think how they felt when the last shovelful of earth was
put in, how the sense of work well done filled their breasts with
satisfaction! But on that very day disaster of the most terrible
kind was hanging over them, and less than twenty-four hours lay
between them and dire calamity.
"Early in the evening, on the day after they had buried the last
gold bar, Black Pedro sat on the veranda of his cottage, smoking
his pipe. This cottage was his regular dwelling place, while he
was at Rum Island. From the veranda he could look out over the
bay, where 'The Angel of Death' lay at anchor. The men's quarters
were down the hill, near the beach.
"Black Pedro noticed that the men seemed unusually quiet that
night. He did not hear the customary yells and cries. Suddenly he
was surprised to see old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n, come over the
top of the hill, leaning on his cane. Behind him walked the entire
crew of the 'Angel,' two by two. They were heading toward their
Captain's cottage. This was not only astonishing, but it was
strictly against the rules, as all interviews with the Captain,
while on shore, were limited to the hours from 4 to 6 P. M. It was
now 7.30. Black Pedro leaped to his feet in surprise. The men
formed a line in front of the cottage--thirty-four of them--while
old Aaron tottered forward.
"'Cap'n,' he said, 'we'd like to have a word with you.'
"'Well,' replied Black Pedro, 'what do you want?'
"'Cap'n, it's this way. You know ME. I've been your bo's'n an' yer
father's an' yer grand-father's afore HIM, ever since the 'Angel'
was built, an' afore that, too. Why, some on us can remember way
back to the days of the 'Panther,' when you wa'n't knee-high to a
cutlash. Me, an' Mike the Shark, here, an' Sandy Buggins, an'
Roarin' Pete, an' some on us has stuck to the 'Angel' since the
day she was built. There aint any on us but has seen more'n twenty
years sarvice with you or yer father. Now some on us got talkin'
over things today, and talkin' 'bout the big haul o' treasure we
made last v'y'ge from that there 'Santa Maria.' An', o' course,
big haul as it was, it aint nothin' at all to what's buried right
here on this island. Why, all the loot that we've taken for sixty-
five year is in the ground within half a mile of where we stand--
all on it, way back to what we took outer that there 'Spirito
Santo."
"And old Halyard paused, and blushed a little, as he remembered
the embarrassing incident of that day.
"'Well,' said the Captain, 'go on.'" '"Well, sir, all on a suddent
like, it come over us: what good is that there plunder a-doin'
of?'
"'What good?' asked Black Pedro.
"'Yessir, what good? There's all that there gold an' silver, an'
all them jooels an' preshis stones an' all them fine clo'es an'
what not, an' what good is it all a-doin' of, a-buried in the
ground? The book-keeper here, Mike the Shark, was a-reckonin' up
this morning, an' a-addin' this last lot o' gold, an' he tells us
that 'cordin' to the 'greement the share of ev'ry man jack on us
reckons up to a powerful big figger.'
"The book-keeper stepped forward. 'For each man,' said he, 'the
precise sum to date is nine hundred and sixty-six thousand, seven
hundred and forty-three dollars, and twenty-two cents.'
"'An' all hard-earned money, too,' said old Aaron; 'we've been a-
sailin,' an' a-fightin', an' a-shootin' folks, an a-stabbin' on
'em, an' a-slittin' of their wind-pipes, an' a-walkin' 'em on The
Plank, for sixty-five year come the sixteenth o' next August.'
"'Well, what do you want?' asked Black Pedro again. His voice was
low, but terrible.
"'Why,' said the bo's'n, 'we'd like some of our share of the
money, if it's all the same to you.'
"'And when you get it,' continued the pirate chief, 'what do you
propose to do with it?'
"'Why, spend some on it, an' buy some o' the good things o' life.
Look at us. Like a lot of scare-crows, we be. In rags, ev'ry one
on us, 'cept you,--an' your black velvet suit is lookin' a leetle
mite rusty, if you'll 'scuse an ol' sailor-man, for speakin' right
out. An' we'd like somethin' good to eat, an' somethin' good to
drink. Look at me: risin' eighty-six year, I be, an' aint never
tasted nothin' all my life 'cept salt-hoss, an' ship-bread, an'
rum; never slep' nowheres 'cept in a hammock, an' had to turn out
on deck an' stand watch in all kinds of weather. An' wuth today
nine hundred an' sixty-six thousand, seven hundred an' forty-three
dollars, an' thirty-two cents.'
"'Twenty-two cents,' corrected the bookkeeper.'
"'Twenty-two cents,' said Aaron. 'An' what good does it do me?
Nothin' 't all. What can I buy with it, here on this here island?
Nothin'. Here I am--an' here we all be--scorched an' burnt by the
sun, and bit by these here scorpions, an' other varmints, an'
dressed in rags an' tatters, an' all the while, all that loot of
our'n lyin' there idle in the ground.'
"At this moment Black Pedro leaped four feet into the air, and
gave a bellow like an infuriated tiger.
"'What?' he yelled, 'what? you dogs! you scoundrels! you
miserable, low-down ruffians you! Oh, that I should have lived to
see this day! Thankful am I that my father and grand-father are
safe in their graves! This would have broken their hearts. Why,
you horrible villains,--do you mean to tell me that you have been
doing all this pirating for money?'
"Aaron Halyard scraped his feet in the sand, and shuffled about
uneasily.
"'Beggin' yer pardin', Cap'n, but what in Sancho HAVE we been
doin' of it for, else?'
"Black Pedro gave a moan, and then another bellow of rage.
"'Out of my sight, you miserable, sordid scoundrels,--out of my
sight! What? You defy me, do you? This is mutiny! Take that! And
that!'
"He snatched two pistols from his sash and commenced firing, right
and left. The first shot hit Mike the Shark and doubled up the
book-keeper like a jack-knife, and the second one did the same for
Sandy Buggins.
"'Hold hard, Cap'n!' cried the old bo's'n, 'p'r'aps you'll tell us
what all this pirating WAS for, if it wa'n't for money.'
"'It was for the joy of pirating, you old rascal, as you ought to
know. It was for the pure love of the thing. And to think that all
these years I have been leading a base gang of money-getters!'
"And he grabbed another couple of pistols out of his boots, and
began firing once more. At this, the pirates lost their patience.
They gave a deep roar, like a herd of angry buffalo, and closed in
on their Captain. He jumped back, and continued to fire. They
swarmed around him, and in a few minutes that group of pirates,
who had always lived together like brothers, had changed into a
blood-thirsty mob. Knives flashed and pistols cracked. Some of
them hit each other in their excitement, and that made them so
angry that they turned and fought amongst themselves. In the
meantime, the Captain was firing his pistols and slashing with his
cutlasses, and making terrible havoc amongst his followers. In ten
minutes all was over. Of that proud band of pirates, once the
terror of the Spanish Main, only two men were left alive. These
were Black Pedro himself, slightly wounded in the leg, but still
able to walk, and old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n. Aaron was running
at top speed toward the beach, trying to get to a small boat. A
little way behind him came the Captain.
"'Don't you tech me! don't you tech me!' screamed old Halyard.
"Black Pedro stopped and took careful aim, with the last of his
fourteen pistols. He pulled the trigger, but there was no report.
Something had gone wrong with the priming. The bo's'n reached the
boat, shoved off, and started to row for the ship. There was no
other boat, and Pedro could only watch him. The old man rowed to
'The Angel of Death,' climbed aboard, and commenced, with the help
of the boy, who had been left there, to get up the foresail. Then
they hoisted the anchor, and the 'Angel' moved slowly out of the
harbor. Black Pedro sat down on the beach, and watched it fade
from sight. When night fell 'The Angel of Death' was only a speck
on the horizon. Then the pirate chief returned to his cottage.
"On the following day a dreadful storm arose. Black Pedro knew
that no ship, manned only by an aged bo's'n and a cabin-boy,
could live through such a tempest. A few days later his worst
fears were realized, for by the wreckage that was washed ashore,
he knew that 'The Angel of Death' had gone to pieces in the storm.
When The Plank itself, worn smooth on its upper side by the
hundreds of feet that had passed over it, was tossed upon the
shores of Rum Island, the pirate sat down on the sand and sobbed
aloud. He knew that old Halyard and the cabin-boy must have
perished, and the noblest crew of buccaneers on whom the sun had
ever shone, were forever disbanded, and that he, their chief, was
now the last of the pirates, alone and deserted on an undiscovered
and unknown island.
"And there he lives to this day."