THE PIRATES OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Mary Read, the Female Pirate—As Male Servant, Soldier, and
Sailor—Her Bravery and Modesty—The Pirate Vane—No Honour among
Thieves—Delivered to Justice—The brief Career of Captain
Worley—The Biter Bit—A more than usually Brutal Pirate—Captain
Low’s Life of Villainy—His Wonderful Successes—An unfortunate
Black Burned to Death—Torture of a Portuguese Captain—Of Two
Portuguese Friars—The Results of Sympathy—Low’s Cupidity Defeated
by a Portuguese—Eleven Thousand Moidores dropped out of a Cabin
Window—An Unpunished Fiend.
One of the most remarkable pirates of the century under review was,
strange as it may appear, a female! Mary Read acted first as a male page,
then volunteered as a sailor, was afterwards a cadet in a Flanders
regiment, and eventually returned to the sea to become a pirate. Her first
impersonation of a boy was undertaken at her mother’s command. The latter
had been twice married, and a son born of the first husband had died. When
the poor woman was in great destitution she thought of that husband’s
mother, who was in easy circumstances, and passed off her second child
Mary as a boy, thereby obtaining some pecuniary assistance. In the army
Mary Read is said to have behaved with great bravery, and when she retired
she married a young Fleming who had been a comrade in the field. They set
up a restaurant, or tavern, and for a time flourished in their business,
but the husband dying suddenly, and peace being concluded, she was obliged
to seek some other employment, and after a short lapse of time we find her
a sailor on a vessel bound to the West Indies. This ship was captured by
English pirates, and Mary was found to be the only English person on
board, so they detained her, letting the rest go, after they had stripped
the vessel of all they wanted. This was her first introduction to such
company, and it is said that in after life she stated that it was
compulsion and necessity which led her to follow the career of a pirate,
and not any desire on her part. But some of her actions looked as though
she had taken rather kindly to that unlawful profession.
[Illustration: THE FEMALE PIRATES. (_From an Old Print._)]
When the royal pardon was granted to all pirates in the West Indies who
should abandon their mode of life before a given date, the crew with whom
Mary was serving availed themselves of it, and for some little time
afterwards we find Mary working on a privateer. The crew on this vessel
soon after mutinied, and turned her into a pirate ship, on which Mary is
said to have behaved with almost ferocious bravery. When the vessel was at
last captured, she, with another female pirate, named Anne Bonney, and one
male, were the last three on deck, the others having fled below. Mary on
this occasion is said to have fired a pistol among the cowardly sailors,
killing one and wounding another. It is just to her to say that in her
intercourse with others she was modest to the last degree, and her sex was
undiscovered by the sailors. In fact, the before-named Anne Bonney,
thinking Mary Read was a handsome young man, fell violently in love with
her, and the latter was obliged to disclose her sex. She was a strong,
robust woman, and although the course of life she had undertaken made her
practically a criminal of the worst description—a robber and a
murderer—she had, if all accounts are true, many very good qualities.
Captain Rackam, another pirate, not knowing at the time her sex, asked her
one day why she—or, as he thought, he—had chosen a life so dangerous, and
one which exposed her to the risk of being hanged at any time. She
answered that as to the hanging she thought it no very great hardship,
“for were it not for that every cowardly fellow would turn pirate, and so
infest the seas, while men of courage might starve; that if it were put to
her choice she would not have the punishment less than death, the fear of
which kept some dastardly rogues honest; that many of those who are now
cheating the widows and orphans, and oppressing their poor neighbours who
have no money to obtain justice, would then rob at sea, and the ocean
would be as crowded with rogues as the land.” Curious argument! Mary Read
came near tasting the quality of hanging when at last she was captured,
but an illness, fortunately for herself, intervened, and she died a
natural death. Woman’s mission in life rarely takes her to sea as a
practical sailor.
A prominent pirate of the seventeenth century was Captain Charles Vane,
the details of whose career would, however, read much like some already
given in the lives of earlier freebooters. One incident at the end of his
life is presented, to show how much distrust often existed among the
pirates themselves. Vane was at last wrecked on a small uninhabited island
near the Bay of Honduras; his vessel was completely lost and most of his
men drowned. He resided there some weeks, being reduced to great straits.
While Vane was upon this island a ship put in there from Jamaica for
water, the captain of which, one Holford, an old pirate, happened to be an
acquaintance of Vane’s. He thought this a good opportunity to get off, and
accordingly applied to his friend; but Holford absolutely refused him,
saying to him, “Charles, I can’t trust you on board my ship unless I carry
you as a prisoner, for I shall have you caballing with my men, knocking me
on the head, and running away with my ship pirating.” Vane made all the
protestations of honour in the world to him; but it seems Captain Holford
was too intimately acquainted with him to place any confidence in his
words or oaths. He told him he might easily get off if he had a mind to
it. “I am going down the bay,” said he, “and shall return hither in about
a month; and if I find you upon the island when I come back, I will carry
you to Jamaica and there hang you!” “How can I get away?” answered Vane.
“Are there not fishermen’s dories upon the beach? Can’t you take one of
them?” replied Holford. “What!” replied Vane; “would you have me steal a
dory, then?” “Do you make it a matter of conscience?” replied Holford, “to
steal a dory, when you have been a common robber and pirate, stealing
ships and cargoes, and plundering all mankind that fell in your way? Stay
here if you are so squeamish;” and he left him to consider the matter.
After Captain Holford’s departure another ship put into the small island,
on her way home, for some water. None of the company knowing Vane, he
easily passed his examination, and so was shipped for the voyage. One
would be apt to think that Vane was now pretty safe, and likely to escape
the fate which his crimes had merited; but here a cross accident happened
which ruined all. Holford, returning from the bay, was met by this ship,
and the captains being very well acquainted with each other, Holford was
invited to dine aboard, which he did. As he passed along to the cabin he
chanced to cast his eye down in the hold, and there saw Charles Vane at
work. He immediately spoke to the captain, saying, “Do you know whom you
have aboard there?” “Why,” said he, “I shipped the man the other day at an
island where he had been cast away, and he seems to be a brisk hand.” “I
tell you,” replied Captain Holford, “it is Vane, the notorious pirate.”
“If it be he,” replied the other, “I won’t keep him.” “Why, then,” said
Holford, “I’ll send and take him aboard, and surrender him at Jamaica.”
This being settled, Captain Holford, as soon as he returned to his ship,
sent his mate, armed, to Vane, who had his pistol ready cocked, and told
him he was his prisoner. No man daring to make opposition, he was brought
aboard and put into irons; and when Captain Holford arrived at Jamaica he
delivered up his old acquaintance to justice, at which place he was tried,
convicted, and executed, as was, some time before, Vane’s companion,
Robert Deal, who was brought thither by one of the men-of-war. “It is
clear,” says the original narrator, “from this how little ancient
friendship will avail a great villain when he is deprived of the power
that had before supported and rendered him formidable.”
Another pirate of the same period was Captain Worley, who commenced
business by leaving New York, in September, 1718, in a small open boat,
with eight men, six muskets, a few pounds of biscuit and dried tongues,
and a keg of water. He took first a shallop laden with household goods and
plate, and later three sloops. He was becoming formidable enough to cause
uneasiness to the authorities, who despatched two armed sloops after him.
Worley saw them off the coast of Virginia, and believing that they were
two vessels bound for the James River, hastened to get into its mouth
first. Meantime the inhabitants of James Town, supposing that all three
were pirates, made every preparation ashore to defend themselves. Their
surprise must have been great indeed when they saw the pirates were
fighting among themselves. Worley had waited in the entrance of the river,
with the black colours flying, when he discovered that the approaching
vessels hoisted English colours, and that he was entrapped. The pirate and
his men fought bravely, and when the action was over Worley and only one
man out of twenty-five survived. As they would probably have died of their
wounds in a short time they were brought ashore in irons, and hanged
almost immediately. Worley’s career as a pirate had lasted less than five
months.
Yet another example. Captain Edward Low had, as a boy, shown peculiarly
brutal qualities. He had bullied, and in low games had cheated, every one
he could, so that it was not surprising that when grown to man’s estate he
developed into a successful but specially obnoxious villain. After sundry
vicissitudes he had entered among the company of a ship bound to Honduras
for logwood, and when arrived there was employed in bringing it on shore
in command of a party of twelve armed men. One day the boat came alongside
the ship just a little before dinner-time, and Low desired that they
should remain for the meal, while the captain wanted them to make one more
trip, and offered them a bottle of rum. Low and some of the men became
enraged, and the former took a loaded musket and fired at the captain,
missing him, but injuring another man. They then ran away with the boat,
and only next day took a small vessel, on which they hoisted the black
flag.
Fortune now constantly favoured him, and he was joined by many others. At
the Azores he captured a French ship of thirty-four guns, taking her with
his own two vessels. Entering St. Michael’s roadstead, he captured seven
sail without firing a gun. He then sent ashore to the governor for water
and provisions, promising to release the vessels if his demands were
conceded, and burn them if they were not. The request was instantly
granted, and six of the vessels were returned. But a French vessel being
among them, they took away all her guns and men, except the cook, whom
they said, “being a greasy fellow, would fry well.” The brutes then bound
the unfortunate wretch to the mast, and set fire to the ship.
“The next who fell in their way was Captain Garren, in the _Wright_
galley, who, because he showed some inclination to defend himself, was cut
and mangled in a barbarous manner. There were also two Portuguese friars,
whom they tied to the foremast, and several times let them down before
they were dead, merely to gratify their ferocious dispositions. Meanwhile,
another Portuguese beholding this cruel scene expressed some sorrow in his
countenance, upon which one of the wretches said he did not like his
looks, and so giving him a stroke across the body with his cutlass he fell
upon the spot. Another of the miscreants aiming a blow at a prisoner
missed his aim, and struck Low upon the under jaw. The surgeon was called,
and stitched up the wound; but Low finding fault with the operation, the
surgeon gave him a blow which broke all the stitches, and left him to sew
them himself. After he had plundered this vessel some of them were for
burning her, as they had done the Frenchman; but instead of that, they cut
her cables, rigging, and sails to pieces, and set her adrift to the mercy
of the waves.”
On another occasion he had taken a fine Portuguese vessel, but could not
find the treasure, and he accordingly tortured some of the men to make
them inform him. He was told that during the chase the captain had hung a
sack containing eleven thousand moidores out of the cabin window, and that
when they were taken he had cut the rope, and let it drop to the bottom of
the sea. One can imagine Low’s rage. He ordered the unfortunate captain’s
lips to be cut off and broiled before his eyes. He then murdered him and
the whole crew in cold blood. The narrative of Low’s career is one
continuous succession of such stories; nor can the writer discover that he
met with punishment in this world.