HAUNTS OF THE PIRATES
If the Atlantic Ocean is associated with mystery and romance, it is
associated with tragedy too. Alas! how many of its tragedies are
unrecorded upon the pages of history! Until the sea gives up its dead,
many of the deeds that have been perpetrated upon its bosom will remain
as obscure as the treasures at the base of its restless waters.
Off the coast of Newfoundland many were the diabolical deeds of
pirates in the days that are no more. Very few have found their way
to the written page, but the fishermen have handed them down by word
of mouth from generation to generation. The following tale of plunder
and carnage by the pirates of the eighteenth century was given to
the writer by a Newfoundlander, who received it from the lips of the
grandson of the hero.
The hero was crossing the Atlantic as a cabin-boy on a vessel trading
between England and Newfoundland. The vessel made excellent progress,
and the crew were in jubilant spirits, anticipating a safe arrival at
their destined haven, where they would discharge cargo and load up
fish for the English market. But as they drew near to the shore of
Newfoundland, they sighted a ship in the distance bearing down upon
them. In a short time the black flag was run up on the approaching
vessel, and all knew that a pirate bold was chasing them. To escape was
impossible, as the pirate showed herself a much smarter vessel than the
merchantman. There was no means of escape from the deadly ship. She was
bound for plunder, and therefore neither property nor life would hinder
her crew in their villainous work. They knew that the merchant ship was
outward bound, and in her lockers would be gold wherewith to purchase
her homeward cargo. They were after this gold, for the greed of their
calling had entirely overcome them.
After a broadside or two from the pirate the merchant ship hove up, and
was soon boarded by their enemies. Mercy there was none, and death and
carnage were on every hand.
Our hero was the youngest of the crew, and he looked in horror at the
butchery about him. His shipmates, who a few hours before were so
hopeful and buoyant, were all murdered before his eyes, or had been
made to walk the plank. Somehow his life was spared, and when the
pirates left the ship, they took him as a living prize, in addition to
the ill-gotten gold which they had plundered. Thus the young English
sailor became one of a pirate’s crew, and for a year or two he
witnessed much of their deadly doings. He began to wonder how long he
would be held a prisoner, and would a chance offer whereby he would
be rescued from his captivity. The ship by which he was captured had
made calls at different ports during his stay on board, and the last
place she visited was within the headlands of Conception Bay, where the
proceeds of their ocean chase, in the form of money and plate, had been
buried.
It was on one of these occasions that the daring pirate met her own
doom, and, like the merchant ship which she had destroyed, she too went
to the bottom. At the place mentioned the booty was hidden, and a few
days were taken for the purpose of refitting. This done, the anchors
were weighed, and sail was set for another cruise. Just as everything
was in full swing a sail hove in sight, and the pirate thought that
more prey was within her reach. But she very soon discovered her
mistake, and realized her own danger, for as the ships neared each
other their true colours were seen, and their opposite characters
clearly known. One was a pirate, the other a British man-o’-war--a
frigate. At once the frigate gave chase, and the pirate made a
desperate effort to outsail her; but the odds were too great: the
man-o’-war was too many guns for her, and so her doom was fixed.
[Illustration: STEADYBROOK FALLS.]
The commander of the pirate, on seeing his predicament, called all
the crew to the quarter, and told them that he would prefer death to
capture, and that rather than be beaten he would blow up his ship.
With this he took his stand near the powder magazine. Our young hero
was well aft at the time, and, like all his companions, he saw death
only a few minutes from him. Closer and closer the frigate came, and
yet the bold pirate struck not his flag. To the last minute he bade
defiance to his pursuers. The first shot from the frigate struck the
pirate’s mizzen-mast and shattered it to pieces. Hope was now gone,
and the bold pirate saw his doom was near at hand. He had waylaid many
a ship and put to death many a brave crew, but now the tables were
turned, and upon his own head his deeds were to be visited. Thus when
the critical moment came he fired the magazine, and in a few minutes it
was all over. The explosion was terrific. Shattered and blackened, the
pirate heeled over, and, with most of her crew, found a resting-place
at the bottom of the waters between Bell Island and the mainland.
The hero of our story, on seeing the captain fire the magazine, made
a desperate effort to escape, and jumped off the ship’s stern as far
as he could leap. This action gave him some space, as he had the leap
from the taffrail, in addition to the little distance that the ship
would sail in the few last minutes. Being able to swim, he had not much
difficulty in keeping himself afloat until the boats from the frigate
picked him up. He, of course, had nothing to fear. What meant death to
his captors was life and freedom for him. Even if his ship had not
been blown up, and they had all been captured, he would have escaped
any blame whatever.
On being rescued and taken on board the frigate, he told his story--how
the ship had been captured and her crew murdered. The frigate continued
her course, and, running out of the bay, she scoured the ocean in quest
of any other such ships as that she had so recently defeated.
At the expiration of her commission she returned to England, and in
due time our sailor lad arrived at his home, after an absence of four
years, during which time he had been mourned as lost. The English lad
did not know exactly in what spot the treasure was buried, as he was
not taken in the boat when it was hidden. He acquainted the captain of
the frigate of its whereabouts, however; but as at that date all those
places were thickly wooded, it was not likely that the spot could be
located without much research. The ship, therefore, did not delay for
any length of time in such an out-of-the-way place.
This is only one of the many pirate tales told by the fishermen of
Newfoundland. In the long cold winter evenings, when the family gather
around the stove in the kitchen, the grey-haired sea-rovers love to
relate thrilling tales of the old pirate days, and the same tales, I
suppose, will be handed down from generation to generation.