over the wall of the defenses; bayonetting the gunners; turning the
spitting war-engines upon the cavalry, which, in confusion and dismay,
was driven down a crooked lane. It was the last stand. The English
standard soon waved from the flag-pole of the House of Justice.
"And now," cried Captain Rogers, gleefully, "I'll meet the worthy
_Padres_ and treat with them for a ransom. We'll make them pay full
well to get back the neat little town of Guayaquil."
Crestfallen and abashed, the city fathers were soon brought before the
privateer.
"Senor," said they, "your men can fight like devils. Senor, you are
the first man to have taken our town, and many a Buccaneer has
endeavored to do so!"
Captain Rogers smiled.
"Tut! Tut!" said he. "The English can always battle. But--Fathers--you
must pay me well for this affair. I demand thirty thousand pieces of
eight ($35,000 or about L6,750) as ransom for your fair city. I will
give you two days in which to collect it."
The worthy _Padres_ hung their heads.
"You English," said they, "are cruel extortioners."
Yet--in two day's time--the British marched to their boats with colors
flying, bugles blowing, and drums beating a rollicking tattoo. Captain
Rogers brought up the rear with a few men. He had secured the ransom
and fairly smiled with exuberant joy. "Our sailors," says he, "kept
continually dropping their pistols, cutlasses, and pole-axes; which
shows they had grown careless and very weak--weary of being
soldiers--and it was high time that we should be gone from hence to
the shores of Merrie England."
Thus, on April 28th, when the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_ weighed anchor
and stood out to sea: guns roared: trumpets blew: the men cheered.
"And so," writes the gallant Rogers, "we took leave of the Spaniards
very cheerfully, but not half so well pleased as we should have been
if we had taken 'em by surprise; for I was well assured from all
hands, that at least we should then have got about two hundred
thousand pieces of eight in money (L45,000 or $225,000); and in
jewels, diamonds, and wrought and unwrought gold and silver."
* * * * *
The owners of the two privateers: the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_, sat in
solemn meeting at the good town of Bristol. It was the month of
October, 1711.
The fat Quakers were smiling, for Captain Rogers had brought them
back equally fat moneys.
The rugged merchants laughed, for the venture had been a howling
success.
"And you were wounded?" said a stockholder, turning to the bronzed
sea-rover who stood before them, giving account and reckoning of his
journey to the Spanish Main.
"A scratch," replied the stout sea-dog, smiling. "When we tackled a
Manila ship on the way home from Guayaquil, I got a ball through the
jaw, and a splinter in the left foot. It laid me up for full three
weeks, but, gentlemen, a cat and Woodes Rogers both have nine lives."
And even the sober Quaker fathers laughed at this sally.
"You have done well," they said. "We will reward you with money and a
good berth. How would you care to be Governor of the Bahamas?"
"Fine!" said Woodes Rogers, chuckling.
And that is the way the old sea-barnacle spent his declining years,
dying at the tropic isle on July 16th, 1732. Hail to this Prince of
Privateers!
TWILIGHT AT SEA
The twilight hours like birds flew by,
As lightly and as free;
Ten thousand stars were in the sky,
Ten thousand on the sea;
For every wave with dimpled face,
That leaped up in the air,
Had caught a star in its embrace,
And held it trembling there.
FORTUNATUS WRIGHT
THE MOST HATED PRIVATEERSMAN OF THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA
(1715-1765)
"It was a high counsel which I once heard given to a
young person: 'Always do what you are afraid to
do.'"--EMERSON.
FORTUNATUS WRIGHT
THE MOST HATED PRIVATEERSMAN OF THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA
(1715-1765)
"'_Be sure you're right, then go ahead!_' was coined by Andrew Jackson,
Who was a fighter, tough as nails, and loved to lay the whacks on,
He followed out this sage advice, in spite of opposition,
While everybody winked and said,--'_A Fellow with a Mission!_'
In other days, in other climes, there lived a seaman daring,
Who loved a fight, as well as he,--was just as good at swearing;
His name was Wright, and thus in spite of all his foemen said,
Old _Fortune_ Wright, was surely right, whene'er he went ahead!"
--_Chants of the Eastern Clipper Ships._--1846.
In the year 1744 war was declared between England and France. French
privateers harried the coast of her rival, caught her merchantmen
whenever they ventured away from stout men-o'-warsmen, and chased them
in the blue, shimmering waters of the Mediterranean. It seemed as if
there were never gun-boats enough to protect the British shipping, and
thus many of the English merchants grew choleric and angry.
Englishmen carried on quite a trade with Italy, Greece, and the
countries of Asia Minor, and at Leghorn--upon the Italian coast--they
had numerous trading shops and docks for their own vessels. They began
to suffer, not only great annoyance, but also great loss, from the
depredations of the French privateers which swarmed about the harbor
mouth and scurried into every corner of the ragged coast-line. Their
trade was hampered, their ships compelled to remain in port, or--if
they ventured out--they were inevitably captured. The situation was
unbearable.
"My! My!" said one of the red-faced merchants. "My! My! We must have a
remedy for this. My! My! We must have our own privateers!"
"Well spoken," cried another. "And I know the very man to help us out.
He is living here, now, and his name is Fortunatus Wright. Gentlemen!
I tell you he is a true sea-dog! He is the fellow to cripple these
saucy, French bushwhackers of the sea."
"Hear! Hear!" cried others.
And thus Mr. Fortunatus Wright was sought for, and was asked:
"Will you take charge of a privateer for the British merchants of
Leghorn? Will you chase these rascally Frenchmen? Will you cripple
their operations? Will you chastise these sea-robbers?"
To this Mr. Fortunatus Wright, being a true seaman with the love of
the salt water tugging at his heart strings, is said to have remarked,
"Whoop-ee!"
Which being interpreted means:
"Gentlemen, I'm dee-lighted!"
As luck would have it, there was a vessel lying in the harbor which
was directly available. She was a brigantine called the _Fame_, and,
although we know little about her tonnage and the number of stout
sea-dogs whom she could carry, it is apparent that Fortunatus Wright
considered her most admirably suited for his venture. At any rate he
soon boarded her, swore in a crew of stalwart seamen, and saw that
plenty of gunpowder, cutlasses, boarding-pikes and muskets were
aboard.
It was September, 1746, and, before the close of the month of
December, the _Fame_ had captured eighteen prizes, one of which was a
hulking, French privateer with twenty guns and one hundred and fifty
men, especially fitted out to put an end to the career of the vessel
of Fortunatus Wright. They had met off the port of Messina and had had
a roaring, little scrimmage, but--seeing that matters were going ill
with him--the French captain had cried:
"Run for the shore! Run our ship aground! We will fix her so that this
English hound cannot make a prize of us!"
"Voila! Voila!" his men had shouted. "Oui! We will f-e-e-x th-e-es
Eengleesh chien! Oui! Au revoir, Monsieur Wright!"
So saying, the privateer had been run upon the sandy beach, bows on,
where her crew took to the brush, yelling derisively at the _Fame_ as
she came up within hail,--sails snug down so as to move cautiously.
The Frenchmen had counted without their host.
"We'll float her, my hearties!" cried Wright. "All hands ashore in
the small boats. Tie hawsers to her stern and pull her off!"
This they did, while the French captain, far back in the brush, saw it
and fairly boiled with disappointment and rage.
"Zees Wright," he blustered. "One cannot outweet heem."
So the privateer was towed into the harbor of Leghorn, where all the
English merchants cried:
"Good! Good! Now we have a true man to fight our battles! Huzzah for
Fortunatus Wright!"
The French were furious, while at the island of Malta (where were
numerous French, Spanish, Austrian and English traders) the feeling
grew intense. Here the Austrians sided with the English and several
duels were fought by angry officers, as crafty Fortunatus Wright
continued to send in his prizes.
Finally the French merchants forwarded a missive to Marseilles, in
France, which ran:
"Can the French be further humiliated by this corsair--this
robber--Fortunatus Wright? Let our people fit out a privateer
sufficiently large to cope with him, and let her defeat and cripple
this fellow. Make haste, for he is doing much damage!"
An answer came back.
"Before a month is gone, Monsieur Wright will no more harass your
privateers. What we have determined to do, we shall do!"
Word of this was brought to Captain Fortunatus Wright and he only
smiled broadly. "There'll be another ship to bring into Malta, care
of F. Wright, Esq.," said he. "And it will be labelled Collect on
Delivery."
Not three weeks later the French vessel came jauntily into the harbor
of Malta. The captain was a man of considerable repute as a seaman and
fighter, and he was warmly received by the French. They invited him to
many dinners.
"Voila!" said they. "Here is the fellow to do the tr-e-e-k. Tenez!
There will soon be one b-e-eg mince pie we-eth Captain Wright eenside.
Ha! Ha!"
It is never well to count your chickens before they hatch or to pat a
man upon the back before he has won a victory.
Eagerly the French captain cruised outside, continually upon the watch
for slippery Skipper Wright. His vessel was superior to the _Fame_ in
numbers of both guns and men. He was sure of victory. "If only the
hated Englishman would appear!" he grumbled.
Meanwhile the excitement and expectation at Malta became intense.
Finally it was noised abroad that the terrible privateer had been
sighted about five miles off the harbor. All factions were aroused:
the Austrians and English slapping the French and Spaniards upon the
back, and saying, "Now there will be a chance to sink bold Captain
Wright, Messieurs!"
To which the irritable Frenchmen would answer, "Ah! Yes! He will be
gobbled up like Jonah by the whale. Pouff!"
The French privateer sailed out to meet the foe, and soon her white
canvas had disappeared from view around a jutting headland. The
stranger ran off. The Frenchman pursued, and soon both were lost to
the eager gaze of the population of Malta, which crowded every
headland, eager and expectant for the bloody battle. The shore was
black with people.
Hours passed. Another day came and with it the news that two vessels
had been sighted off the entrance to the harbor. Hundreds rushed to
the headlands and cliffs in order to see the victor and the
vanquished, for two cruisers were approaching, the one towing the
other.
"Huzzah!" shouted an enthusiastic Frenchman. "We have won! See--up go
the French colors upon the first vessel. The other--poof--eet ees a
jelly. Eet ees pounded to ze shreds."
"Huzzah!" shouted all of his compatriots, and they danced about,
shaking hands, embracing, and waving their hats and their
handkerchiefs.
"Ce cher Wright!" cried they. "He ees een the soup, eh?"
And what of the Englishmen?
They--of course--said nothing, but bit their lips, looked at their
Austrian friends, and hung their heads dejectedly.
Here is the most beautiful part of all this story, for Fortunatus
Wright, my boys, was a joker--a real, true end man in a minstrel
show--and he was having his fun with "the Frenchies." His
vessel--indeed--had come off victorious, in spite of the fact that she
had been much more shattered than the other contestant. Therefore,
Wright had put her in tow of the captured Frenchman, which he,
himself, was steering, with the crew of his opponent down in the hold,
as prisoners of war.
Seeing the crowded headlands and swarming ramparts in the harbor, he
could not resist the temptation of hoisting the flag of France. He
chuckled as he saw the effect it produced upon the crowd, then--as the
vessels rounded a fort at the entrance to the harbor--down came the
colors of France and up went the English flag to the peak, with the
French flag below.
And then--well, you can imagine how the Englishmen and Austrians
yelled, and how the poor Frenchmen beat a hasty flight for their
homes. Fortunatus Wright had had a sweet revenge. He laughed long and
hard, while the Frenchmen said, "Curse heem! He ees a devil! A
thousand curses upon the head of thees Wright! Sapristi!" And they did
not open any more bottles of wine for their supposedly great captain
from Marseilles.
As for Fortunatus Wright, he continued to harass the French and get
into trouble, as the following anecdote well shows.
Not long after his famous battle, he was travelling in Italy with
introductions to many of the nobility, and arrived--one day--before
the city gates of Lucca. Here was stationed a guard, and a sentinel
scrutinized him with great care and deliberation.
Fortunatus Wright grew impatient.
"Can I not go by?" said he. "My passports are correct!"
"No! No!" answered the soldier. "I no likea zose peestols in your
belta. You must deeliver them to me before you can go to ze ceety."
The English sea-captain said nothing, but the color rose in his
cheeks. In an instant he raised one of his pistols and pointed it at
the head of the astonished sentry.
"The first man that endeavors to take my weapons from me," he yelled,
"does so at the cost of his life!"
The guardsman was flabbergasted.
"Corporal of the Guard! Post Number Two!" he shouted, presenting his
musket at the same instant, and pointing it at the head of the
irascible Captain Wright.
Immediately a dozen soldiers came running to the spot. They surrounded
the irate English traveller. He was ordered to "Throw up your hands!"
"You air one mad Englishmana!" said the Officer of the Guard. "Here.
Comea weeth usa! We weel feexa youa!"
Seeing that the odds were too much against him, Captain Wright allowed
himself to be taken to the guard house, while a soldier was dispatched
to the British Ambassador in order to explain that "they had captured
an Englishman as mad as a mad dog!"
Things looked bad for the great privateersman. But was his name not
Fortunatus? And was not good fortune always with him?
A nobleman to whom the bold mariner had a letter now intervened in his
favor, and secured the release of the high-tempered man-of-the-sea. On
the morning of the fourth day of his captivity, and at the early hour
of four, a soldier waked Captain Fortunatus Wright, who was peacefully
sleeping at a military prison. A missive was handed him, and he read:
"SEIGNEUR WRIGHT:--Since you have been so daring as to
attempt to enter the town of Lucca by force, it is
therefore ordered that you shall now leave the State and
never presume to enter it again, without leave from the
Republic. Post-horses, with a guard to see you over the
border, are now ready for you. We trust that you shall
have a safe journey.
"By order of the
"GOVERNOR OF LUCCA."
"These Italians are the most unreasonable people alive," growled
Captain Wright. But he pocketed both his pride and his pistols,
entered the post-chaise at the door, and was soon rolling forth for
other parts. In spite of this order--he continued to reside in Italy,
with the true independence of a privateersman.
In December, 1746, the bold seafarer made an exceptionally good
capture: a French vessel on a voyage from Marseilles to Naples, with a
rich cargo and the servants and luggage of a real potentate,--the
Prince of Campo Florida.
When valorous Wright stepped aboard of her, her captain was scraping
and bowing near the rail.
"Ah, Seigneur!" said he, "you have taken me, that is true. But you
cannot touch my cargo or my men. See,--here is a pass from King George
the Second of England. It says, 'All of the cargo, passengers, and
crew of _La Belle Florence_ shall be exempt from molestation by
English cruisers and privateers.' What say you to that?"
Captain Wright looked sad, but he seized the paper and read it with
care. His smile broadened as he perused the document.
"How am I to know that this particular ship is to go free?" said he.
"For although you told me that the name of your vessel (_La Belle
Florence_) was mentioned in this document, I do not find that it is
mentioned. The paper merely states that 'the vessel' shall not be
molested, and, my boy, you may have stolen this from some other
skipper. Ah! Ha! You are my prize and shall go with me into Leghorn."
You should have seen the face of the Frenchman!
"I vill haf revenge!" said he. And he had it.
For, when the matter was referred to the British Minister, he turned
it over to the Admiral who commanded the English ships at this
station, and this high official made Captain Wright give up both
vessel and cargo. He did so with the same unwillingness that he had
shown when asked to leave the quaint, little town of Lucca. Captain
Wright, you see, had that bull-dog stubbornness which is
characteristic of men of the British Isles. He believed in hanging on
to everything which he took.
A bit later, this trait got him into serious difficulties and into
prison.
A number of English merchants were trading with the people of Turkey
under the name of "The Company of English Merchants trading to the
Levant Sea," and, finding it impossible to ship all of their goods in
British vessels, they often sent them in the holds of French ships.
True it was that France was at war with England at this time, but, as
these were English cargoes, the British naturally thought that they
should be allowed to come through, unmolested, even though the French
vessels might be captured by English privateers. But they had not
reckoned with Fortunatus Wright.
Two French clipper ships were scudding quietly along off the Italian
coast, one bright day in June of 1747, when a rakish vessel appeared
upon the horizon and speedily bore down upon them. They crowded on
sail, but they could not outdistance their pursuer, who was soon near
enough to fire a gun across the bow of the foremost, and flaunt the
English colors in her face.
"Helas!" growled the French skipper. "Eet ees that devil, ze Captain
Wright. Eet is all up with me! Helas!"
So he came to and surrendered; but the other fellow pounded away at
the British privateer with a couple of swivel guns and put up a smart,
little skirmish before a well-directed shot from the deck of the
Englishman, knocked a topmast crashing over the port side. Crippled,
she surrendered.
It did not take Captain Wright long to sail into Leghorn harbor with
his prizes. The holds were filled with bales of rich goods, marked:
"The property of the Company of English Merchants trading to the
Levant Sea."
"I'll sell the bloomin' cargoes," cried Wright. "For the vessels were
under the French flag and we're at war with that nation. Besides this,
one of them put up a fight against me."
Thus--the cargoes were sold--Captain Fortunatus pocketed the money,
and went upon his way, rejoicing.
But he did not rejoice very long, for the British merchants were
furious with anger, and procured--through some means or other--an
order from the English Government to the effect that English cargoes
in French vessels were not to be touched--when captured by British
privateers. Word was sent to Captain Wright to refund the money which
he had secured by the sale of the cargoes captured in the French
ships, and the property of "The Company of English Merchants trading
to the Levant Sea."
To this Captain Wright answered, "Bah! I have the money. I intend to
keep it!"
Orders were sent from England to have this fellow arrested and shipped
home; so the Italian police obligingly captured the old sea-dog,
locked him up, and kept him in jail for six months, while the
attorneys fought over the legality of the affair.
At length the bluff privateersman was allowed to go free, and--he
never paid back the money. "These fellows attacked me at law," he
wrote, "but I have not acted contrary to it. I am an Englishman. I am
acting under a commission from the King of England, and, when we are
at war with France, I intend to hold and keep all the cargoes which I
capture in French vessels. As for this 'English Company trading to the
Levant Sea!' let them learn a lesson and pack their goods in future in
English vessels. English oak should be good enough for English
cargoes."
The "English Company trading to the Levant Sea" had certainly learned
that Fortunatus Wright was as stubborn as a mule, and--in the
future--they employed no French vessels to carry their bales of
commerce. _A wise dog only allows himself to be bitten once._
France and England now came to a peaceable settlement of their
difficulties, but in 1755 war broke out afresh. Fortunatus Wright
chuckled, for he itched for another brush upon the wide sweep of the
ocean, and a chance to take a prize or two. So the _Fame_ not being
available, he had a small vessel constructed at Leghorn, and called
her the _Saint George_. She was a fast sailer and was as graceful as a
sea-gull. "In this fair ship," said he, as he gazed upon her
admiringly, "I shall take many a prize and shall have, I trust, many a
sharp adventure. _Saint George_, I salute you! May you bring me only
the best of luck!"
Trouble was in store for the well-hated mariner even before he turned
his vessel's prow into the Mediterranean, for--in spite of the fact
that the Italians were neutral--their sympathies were strongly with
France, and they looked with decided disfavor upon the graceful hull
of the _Saint George_, as she bobbed serenely upon the surface of the
bay. Knowing full well the reputation of this famous seaman, they
paid particular attention to his little craft, and sent a number of
officials to inspect her. In a few days the intrepid Fortunatus
received the information that, as his was a merchant vessel, he must
carry a crew of only five-and-twenty men, and an armament of four
small guns.
At this the old sea-dog only laughed, and exhibited the greatest
anxiety to comply with the requirements of the law.
"I would suggest," said he to one of the officials of the town, "that
you keep guard-boats rowing around my ship in order to be sure that I
do not take on more guns and men than the law permits, before I set
sail."
The officer smiled. "We are watching you closely," said he. "For
Monsieur Wright, it is said that you are as crafty as a cat!"
The mariner grinned, and, before going to sea, obtained from the
Governor, a certificate to the effect that he had complied with all
the requirements of the law.
Armed with this, on July 28th, 1756, he put to sea, in company with
four merchant vessels laden with valuable cargoes, and bound for the
shores of England. Carefully the _Saint George_ had been watched, so
carefully, in fact, that the authorities had overlooked the lading of
the other vessels, aboard which numerous guns, howitzers, and
hand-spikes had been smuggled, besides a number of seamen who were
well-experienced in fighting upon the ocean. It is true that
Fortunatus Wright was as crafty as a cat, or--as they say in
Maine--"You'd have to git up early if yer wanted ter lick him."
Not only had the officials at Leghorn watched every move of this
well-known privateersman, but they had sent word to the French that
Wright had only a feeble force, that he was accompanying several rich
prizes, and that he could be easily beaten and captured by a vessel of
any size. So much hated was he, that it is said the French king had
promised Knighthood and a handsome life pension to the sailor who
could bring Wright to the shores of France _dead or alive_. The
merchants of Marseilles were particularly bitter against him, for he
had captured many of their ships, and in the market-place (where all
could see it) had been posted a placard, which ran:
"ALL SAILORS AND SEAMEN ATTENTION!
To the person, or persons, who will capture and bring to
France, the body of the arch-villain Captain Fortunatus
Wright, shall be given
A SUM DOUBLE THE VALUE OF WRIGHT'S VESSEL.
Frenchmen! Catch this Thief! Bring him in Dead or Alive!
Do your Duty!