imminent danger of his life, when he trusted himself upon the pirate
ship, and unquestionably nothing could have justified such a hazardous
step but the desperate circumstances in which he was placed. The honor
and influence of Captain England, however, protected him and his men
from the wrath of the crew, who would willingly have wreaked their
vengeance upon those who had dealt them such heavy blows in the recent
fight.
But the generosity of Captain England toward the unfortunate Mackra
proved to be calamitous to himself.
"You are no true pirate," cried one of his crew. "For a buccaneer
never allows his foes to get away."
"No! No!" shouted others. "This fighting Mackra will soon come
against us with a strong force. You did wrong in letting him escape."
"To the yard-arm with the traitor!" sounded from the throat of many a
ruffianly seaman.
Thus grew the feeling of mutiny--and the result of these murmurs of
discontent--was that Captain England was put ashore by the cruel
villains; and, with three others was marooned upon the island of
Mauritius. Had they not been destitute of every necessity they might
have been able to live in comfort, for the island abounds in deer,
hogs, and other animals. Dissatisfied, however, with this solitary
situation, Captain England and his three men exerted their industry
and ingenuity, built a small boat, and sailed to Madagascar, where
they lived upon the generosity of some more fortunate piratical
companions.
But can a pirate remain happy when not pirating?
"Away with this life," cried Captain England. "I pine for more
treasure and for battle. Let's out and to sea!"
"Good! Good!" said his mates. "Let's ship aboard another vessel and
get away from here."
So, they again took to the ocean, but what became of Edward England is
not known.
Some say that he was killed in a brawl; some that he was again
marooned and was adopted by a savage tribe; some that he perished in a
fight upon the Indian Ocean. At any rate that rough and valiant soul
is lost to history, and--somewhere--in the vast solitude of the
Southern Hemisphere, lie the bleaching bones of him who had flaunted
the skull-and-cross-bones upon the wide highway of the gleaming
wastes of salty brine. His was a rough and careless life. Do not
emulate the career of Edward England!
Near the straits of Madagascar; near the sobbing oceans' roar,
A ghostly shape glides nightly, by the beady, kelp-strewn shore.--
As the Cubic monkeys chatter; as the Bulbul lizards hiss,
Comes a clear and quiet murmur, like a Zulu lover's kiss.
The flying-fishes scatter; the chattering magpies scream,
The topaz hummers dart and dip; their jewelled feathers gleam.
The mud-grimed hippos bellow; the dove-eyed elands bleat,
When the clank of steel disturbs them, and the beat of sandalled feet.
The pirate crew is out to-night, no rest is for their souls,
The blood of martyrs moves them; they charge a million tolls.
On! On! Their souls must hasten. On! On! Their shapes must go,
While the limpid rushes quiver, and the beast-lapped waters glow.
No rest for Captain England. No rest, for King or pawn,
On! On! Their feet must wander. On! On! Forever on!
SONG OF THE PIRATE
"To the mast nail our flag! it is dark as the grave,
Or the death which it bears while it sweeps o'er the wave;
Let our decks clear for action, our guns be prepared;
Be the boarding-axe sharpened, the scimetar bared:
Set the canisters ready, and then bring to me,
For the last of my duties, the powder-room key.
It shall never be lowered, the black flag we bear,
If the sea be denied us, we sweep through the air.
Unshared have we left our last victory's prey;
It is mine to divide it, and yours to obey:
There are shawls that might suit a Sultana's white neck,
And pearls that are fair as the arms they will deck;
There are flasks which, unseal them, the air will disclose
Diametta's fair summers, the home of the rose.
I claim not a portion: I ask but as mine--
But to drink to our victory--one cup of red wine.
Some fight, 'tis for riches--some fight, 'tis for fame:
The first I despise, and the last is a name.
I fight 'tis for vengeance! I love to see flow,
At the stroke of my sabre, the life of my foe.
I strike for the memory of long-vanished years;
I only shed blood where another sheds tears,
I come, as the lightning comes red from above,
O'er the race that I loathe, to the battle I love."
WOODES ROGERS
THE BRISTOL MARINER
(?-1736)
"If you want to win a lass, or a sea fight; don't
cajole. Sail in!"--_Old Proverb._
WOODES ROGERS
THE BRISTOL MARINER
(?-1736)
For he can fight a Spaniard, like a Tipperary cat,
For he can sack a city, like a _blawsted_, rangy rat;
Woodes Rogers was a Gentleman, from Bristol-town he sailed,
An' his crew came from th' prisons, an' were
Bailed,
Bailed,
Bailed.
"Yes, you can have the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_. They are both staunch
craft and we expect to get a good return for our investment in them."
The fellow who spoke--a stout-bodied Quaker--looked quizzically at a
bronzed sea-captain, who, cap in hand, stood before him. By his side
were seated a number of merchants, fat, sleek, contented-looking. They
were giving instructions to Captain Woodes Rogers: their
privateersman, who was about to make a voyage of adventure in their
behalf.
"My good friends," said the mariner, "I shall do my very best for you
all. The French and Spaniards have been having it all their own way in
the South seas. It is about time that the English had a share in the
rich spoils of that treasure highway. I shall work my hardest for
you."
The merchants, ship-owners and Quakers nodded.
"May Providence guide your course aright," said they. And--as Captain
Woodes Rogers went off to inspect his privateersmen--all indulged in a
glass of Madeira to pledge "good luck and good health" to the staunch
seaman from Bristol.
It was not many weeks before the _Duke_ (of three hundred and twenty
tons) with thirty guns and one hundred and seventeen men, and the
_Duchess_ (of two hundred and sixty tons) with twenty-six guns and one
hundred and eight men, sailed from King Road for Cork, in Ireland.
"Egad!" cried Captain Rogers, as they passed out to sea. "Our rigging
is slack. Our decks are lumbered up. Our stores are badly stowed. Our
crew is so very mixed that I must stop in Ireland to get more able
sea-dogs. Was ever captain in a worse fix?"
His Lieutenants grinned, for they saw that things were in a sorry
mess, indeed.
"Most of us have embraced this trip around the world in order to
retrieve our fortunes," continued the captain. "Did you ever see a
harder crew than this? There are tinkers, tailors, haymakers,
peddlers, fiddlers, a negro and ten boys. None know how to use the
cutlass and they haven't got any sea-legs. Well, well; I'll make the
best of it, but it's hard goin', I assure you."
And still the Lieutenants grinned.
They grinned still more when they had lain a few days at Cork, for the
crew were continually marrying, although they expected to sail
immediately. However, as the two privateers got under way on
September 1st,--with the _Hastings_, a man-of-war--the majority of the
crew drank a health to their spouses; waved their hands to them over
the rail; and "parted unconcerned." Truly, a sailor has a lass in
every port.
Not many days after their out-going, a sail was sighted and all speed
was made to capture her. The Swedish colors fluttered from her
mast-head, and she hove to at the first gun. Rogers boarded.
"No contraband goods are here," said he, after looking into the hold.
"We must let her off."
Then--turning to her captain--he said,
"You can go. I am not a pirate--but a privateer--sailing under Letters
of Marque. I only seize goods that are contraband."
Bobbing and courtesying on the waves, the little Swede soon drifted
from view.
But the crew grew mutinous,--for had they not come out for plunder?
The boatswain even called Rogers a traitor.
"Seize the fellow and flog him," cried the sturdy captain. "Put ten of
these talkative hounds in irons. We'll do the talking on this boat,
and the sailors must do theirs in the fo'castle."
This was done immediately.
Next day a seaman came aft, with near half the ship's company in his
rear, and cried:
"I demand the boatswain out of his irons, Captain Rogers. He's done
nothing to deserve such a severe punishment."
"Speak with me privately, on the quarter-deck," said the bluff
commander. "I cannot discuss this matter with you in such a crowd."
And he moved aft.
The grumbler followed, but, no sooner was he alone with stout Woodes,
than the captain sprang upon him with the agility of a leopard. He was
thrown to the ground, held, and bound by two officers. Then he was
stripped and whipped until the blood ran.
"This method," writes the doughty Woodes, "I deemed best for breaking
any unlawful friendship among the mutinous crew. It allayed the
tumult, so that they began to submit quietly and those in irons begged
my pardon, and promised amendment."
Thus the captain had won the first round with the mutineers.
Now, know you, that the War of the Spanish Succession was then in
progress; a war in which one party was endeavoring to put the Archduke
Charles of Austria upon the Spanish throne; another to place Philip,
grandson of Louis XIV of France, in the chair of the rulers. And
when--a few days later--the two privateers captured a small Spanish
vessel, they found that their possession of it was disputed, when they
sailed into the Canaries.
"It has been agreed between Queen Anne of England and the Kings of
Spain and France," said the Vice-Consul of that place--an
Englishman--"that all vessels trading to the Canary Isles shall be
exempt from interference by men-o'-war, or privateers. The prize must
be released. If you do not do so, we will keep your agent, Mr.
Vanbrugh, who has come ashore, and will throw him into irons."
But the Vice-Consul had reckoned without his host.
"We are apprehensive that you are obliged to give us this advice in
order to gratify the Spaniards," wrote Captain Rogers. "If you do not
allow my agent to come on board my ship, you may expect a visit from
my guns at eight o'clock to-morrow morn."
To this there was no reply.
Next day the two English privateers stood in close to shore, and, just
as the shot was rammed home, a boat put off, in the stern of which sat
Mr. Vanbrugh with a present of wine, grapes, hogs and jelly. The prize
which had been captured was sent back to Bristol with a picked crew.
The two sea-rovers bore towards the South--soon crossed the Tropic of
Cancer--and there had appropriate ceremonies for the occasion. The
tinkers, peddlers, fiddlers, and tailors who made up the crew, were
each and all hoisted overboard by a rope. A stick was placed between
their legs and they were ducked again and again in the brine.
"If any man wants to get off," spoke Captain Rogers, "he can do so by
paying me a half-a-sovereign ($2.50) which must be expended on an
entertainment for the rest of the company when England shall be
reached. Every man that is ducked is paid in proportion to the number
of times that he goes under."
Several accepted this offer. At which a sailor cried out:
"Duck me twelve times, Captain. I want to have a regular orgy when I
get back home."
And the sailors did it, laughing uproariously.
Sailing to the Cape Verde Islands, the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_
anchored in the harbor of St. Vincent, where one of the crew, who was
a good linguist (Joseph Alexander) was sent in a boat to the Governor,
at San Antonio, in order to negotiate for supplies. He seemed to
prefer Cape Verde to privateering.
"On October 6th," writes the gallant Rogers, "our boat went to San
Antonio to get our linguist, according to appointment. No news of
him."
"On October 6th, our boat returned with nothing but limes and tobacco.
No news of our linguist."
"On October 7th, no news of our linguist."
"On the 8th, boat sent ashore, but no news of our linguist."
"On the 9th, as the trade-winds are blowing fresh, concluded to leave
our good Alexander to practice his linguistic and other
accomplishments ashore. Adieu to our linguist."
Thus disappeared the sleek and crafty Joseph.
There was still trouble from insubordination, for Mr. Page--second
mate of the _Duchess_--refused to accompany Mr. Cook (second in
command on the _Duke_). Whereupon the hot-tempered Captain Cook--being
the superior officer on board--struck him, and several blows were
interchanged.
At last Page was forced into the boat and brought to the _Duke_, where
he was ordered to the forecastle in the bilboes (leg irons sliding
upon a long, iron bar). But he jumped overboard--despising the chance
of being gobbled up by a shark--and started to swim to his own ship.
He was brought back, flogged, and put in irons; and he evidently
found a week of this kind of thing sufficient; for he submitted
himself humbly to future orders.
Thus Woodes Rogers had already learned that the life of a privateer
commander was not a happy one.
Steering southwest, a large French ship was seen and chased, but she
got away from the two consorts with surprising ease. On March 6th,
when off the coast of Peru, a sail was sighted.
"Let the _Duchess_ bear down on her port and the _Duke_ to starboard,"
cried Captain Rogers. "Heave a solid shot across her bow, and, if she
refuses to capitulate, let her have your broadsides."
Dipping, tossing, rolling; the two privateers swooped down upon their
prey, like hawks. She flew the yellow flag of Spain--and--as the first
ball of lead cut across her bowsprit, it fluttered to the deck. Up
went a white shirt, tied to a rat-line, and the crew from the _Duke_
was soon in charge, and steering her for Lobas: a harbor on the coast.
"She's a tight little barque," said Rogers, when he had landed. "I'll
make her into a privateer."
So she was hauled up, cleaned, launched, and christened the
_Beginning_; with a spare topmast from the _Duke_ as a mast, and an
odd mizzen-topsail altered for a sail. Four swivel-guns were mounted
upon her deck, and, as she pounded out of the bay, loud cheers greeted
her from the decks of the _Duchess_, which was loafing outside,
watching for a merchantman to capture and pillage.
Next morn two sails were sighted, and both _Duke_ and _Duchess_
hastened to make another haul. As they neared them, one was seen to be
a stout cruiser from Lima; the other a French-built barque from
Panama; richly laden, it was thought.
"Broadsides for both," ordered Woodes Rogers. "Broadsides and good
treatment when the white flag flutters aloft."
As the _Duchess_ chased the Lima boat, the _Duke_ neared the Frenchman
and spanked a shot at her from a bow-gun. The sea ran high and she did
not wish to get too close and board, because it would be easier to
send her men in pinnaces.
"They're afraid!" cried the Captain of the _Duke_. "We can take 'em
with no exertion." But he was like many an Englishman: despised his
foe only to find him a valiant one.
Piling into four boats, the men from the _Duke_, fully armed, rowed
swiftly towards the rolling Frenchman. They approached to within
twenty yards. Then
_Crash! Crash! Rattle! Crash!_
A sheet of flame burst from her sides; muskets and pistols spoke;
cannon spat grape and cannister; the Englishmen were frightfully cut
up.
"On! On!" shouted young John Rogers--a brother of Woodes--as he waved
his cutlass aloft to enliven the sailors. But it was his last cry. A
bullet struck him in the forehead, and he fell into the sea without a
murmur.
_Crash! Crash!_
Again roared out a volley. Oars were splintered. One boat was pierced
below the water line. She sank, and her men floundered about upon the
surface of the oily sea.
"Bear off, and rescue our comrades!" cried the leaders of this futile
attack, and, as the French barque drifted away, the remaining boats
busied themselves with the swimming sailors. The assault had been a
complete failure.
"Curses upon the Frenchman!" cried Captain Rogers when he saw the
saucy fighter drawing off. "We'll go after her to-morrow, and catch
her, or my blood's not English. What say you, men?"
"Yes. After her and board her amid-ships!" cried all. "Run our own
vessel alongside."
"And that I will do," answered Rogers, watching the lumbering
merchantman through his glass. "She's entirely too well armed for a
trader."
When morning dawned, the Frenchman was still ploughing along the coast
in the light breeze, with all sail set. But there was not wind enough
to force her ahead of her pursuer. The _Duchess_ now returned from her
chase of the Lima boat, and, joining her _Duke_, bore in upon the able
fighter from the open sea.
"Egad! We'll have her yet," shouted Captain Rogers, rubbing his hands.
"She luffs!" cried a lieutenant. "She's coming to!"
Sure enough the Frenchman saw that resistance now was useless. She
staggered into the wind, and a white flag beckoned for a prize-crew to
come and take her.
"And," writes Captain Rogers, "I found that a Bishop who had been
aboard of her, had been put ashore, which gave me much grief. For I
always love to catch fat prelates, as they give up a stout sum as
their ransom. In truth they are nice pickings."
Things were going well with the wild rovers from Bristol. Plunder
there was aplenty and the holds of the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_ bulged
with treasure. Yet Woodes Rogers was not satisfied.
"On! On to Guayaquil!" cried he. "We'll capture this wealthy city;
demand a great ransom; and sail to England, richer than the Spanish
conquerors of the Incas."
"Hurrah!" shouted his staunch followers. "On! On! to Guayaquil!"
So--steering for the coast of Ecuador--the privateers drew near this
rich Spanish-American town. A gulf lay before their eyes in which was
a small island; with a little, white-housed village (called Puna) on
its Eastern shore.
"Take the place!" cried Rogers, as the two ships forged into the
sleepy shallows, and rounded to before the peaceful habitation.
With a cheer, the sailors piled into the boats, rowed ashore,
and--with cutlass and dirk in hand--pressed through the narrow
streets. Shots rang out from a few of the thatched houses; two seamen
fell to the ground with mortal wounds; but, cheering wildly, the
privateers rushed through the narrow highway; pressed into the
court-house; and seized upon the Lieutenant-Governor of the town of
Guayaquil, as he was attempting to hide behind an old clothes-press.
"Let no man get away in order to warn the large town of our
approach!" shouted Captain Rogers. "Catch all who dash for the canoes
upon the beach!"
"Crush the bloomin' canoes!" yelled Cook, as he saw some of the
natives running towards them on the sandy shore. "Crush the canoes
before the devils can get there!"
"All right!" answered several of his men, as they ran for the clusters
of boats. "We'll put holes in them!"
As they hurried forward, several of the natives were ahead. Two jumped
into the bark boats and paddled furiously for Guayaquil. The _zip_,
_zip_ of bullets nipped the water around them, but,--with desperate
sweeps--they dug their blades into the sea and got safely off. As a
result, the city was all ready and prepared for the invaders.
"Ho! Ho!" laughed Rogers, as he thumbed the papers of the
Lieutenant-Governor. "What is this?"
"A warning to the townsfolk of Guayaquil," said one of his men, as he
peered over his shoulder.
Rogers chuckled.
"Beware, all you people"--he read--"of a squadron from the faraway
isles of Great Britain which is coming shortly upon you. There will be
full ten great ships, heavily manned and well armed for attack. The
arch rogue, William Dampier, will be in control,--he who has plundered
Puna before. Be on your guard, citizens! Be prepared! Arm yourselves!"
"Hah! Hah!" laughed the free-booting captain. "They think I'm
Dampier. That's good. But we'll have a tough time with them, for they
know that we mean to assault their pretty little town."
His followers looked solemn.
"Let's attack, right away," cried several, "before the Spaniards have
time to prepare for our charge!"
Rogers, however, would not hear of it.
"We must rest. Equip ourselves. Place cannon in the bows of our boats,
and then we will be ready."
His men murmured, but they knew that when Rogers had made up his mind
upon a thing, there was no use in endeavoring to dissuade him. So they
collected what plunder was to be had and awaited his further orders.
Two days later all was ready for the advance. It was near
midnight--upon April 22nd,--when the command was passed around:
"Muffle your oars and take the town!"
With one hundred and ten men in the jolly boats, the privateers neared
the sleepy, little seaport. Not a sound broke the silence, save the
drip, drip of the sweeps, yet, as they approached the white-washed
walls of the lower town,--a bonfire was touched off upon the shore.
"'Tis well," whispered a stout sailor. "Now we can see to shoot!"
As he said this, many lights appeared in the houses of Guayaquil. The
townspeople were wide awake.
"What means this, sirrah?" thundered Rogers at a native guide, who was
piloting him to the shore.
The fellow had a ready answer.
"'Tis the celebration of All Saints Day," he answered smiling. "The
people here are good Christians."
"They know that we are coming," growled the English captain, for, as
the native spoke, a Spaniard upon the shore was heard to shout:
"Puna has been captured! The enemy is advancing! Arm! Arm!"
Bells clanged from the steeples of the little churches. Muskets and
guns went off. Black masses could be seen surging into the streets.
Cannon roared, and a screeching shot spun ahead of the on-coming
boats.
"'Tis nothing," said Rogers. "The alarm has only just been given.
Preparations are not complete and we can rush them, easily."
But Captain Cook had his own opinion upon the affair.
"The Buccaneers," said he, "never attack any large place after it is
alarmed. My advice is to keep away."
"Don't go in," cried several. "Wait and rush them when they are not so
well prepared."
Even the men seemed disinclined to advance.
Thus cautious counsel prevailed: the boats dropped down-stream
again--about three miles below the town--and were joined by two small
barques. They were prizes which had been recently captured. Here the
flotilla lay while the cries in the city grew inaudible,--for the
inhabitants saw that the attack had been avoided.
When flood-tide came, Captain Rogers once more ordered an advance upon
the town.
"No! No!" argued Dover. "They are too well prepared. Night will cloak
our movements, so we should then go on. I, myself, advise the sending
of a trumpeter with a flag of truce. He shall propose that we make
some trades with the people of this place."
"Your measure is half-hearted," said Rogers, with heat. "You are a
craven knave. Let's rush the town like Englishmen and heroes!"
Again cautious counsel prevailed. Two prisoners--a Lieutenant from
Puna, and the Captain of the Frenchman of recent capture--were sent to
parley with the Spaniards.
"The English are afraid!" whispered the inhabitants. "Let us keep them
off with braggadocio, and mayhap reinforcements will come to us."
So they bickered and delayed.
"These dogs would palaver forever," said Captain Rogers, when
negotiations had proceeded for full two days without result. "I, for
one, am for attacking the city right now!"
"Yes! On! On!" cried his men.
Even the cautious Dover was ready to advance; so, landing upon the
beach, the one hundred and ten ran towards the town with a wild,
exultant whoop!
_Zip! Zip!_ came the bullets from the nearer houses, as the privateers
advanced.
_Boom! Boom!_ sounded the guns from the _Duchess_ and the _Duke_,
which had edged up near the wharves and anchored. Shells shrieked and
burst; guns roared; and, with a hoarse cheer, the English beat down
two lines of Spaniards who opposed them.
Back, back, they crushed the defenders of Guayaquil to the
market-place in the centre of the town, where four cannon were drawn
up behind a barricade which was flanked by cavalry.
_Crash! Crash!_ they roared at the on-coming privateers, and many a
man went down before the exploding grape and cannister. But the blood
of the English was now up.
"Take the guns!" shouted Woodes Rogers. "Scale the barricade and spike
the pieces!"