PIRACY IN THE EARLY TUDOR TIMES
The kind of man who devotes his life to robbery at sea is not the species
of humanity who readily subjects himself to laws and ordinances. You may
threaten him with terrible punishments, but it is not by these means that
you will break his spirit. He is like the gipsy or the vagrant: he has
in him an overwhelming longing for wandering and adventure. It is not so
much the greed for gain which prompts the pirate, any more than the land
tramp finds his long marches inspired by wealth. But some impelling blind
force is at work within, and so not all the treaties and agreements, not
all the menaces of death could avail to keep these men from pursuing the
occupation which their fathers and grandfathers had for many years been
employed in.
Therefore piracy was quite as bad in the sixteenth century as it had
been in the Middle Ages. The dwellers on either side of the English
Channel were ever ready to pillage each other’s ships and property. About
the first and second decade of the sixteenth century the Scots rose to
some importance in the art of sea-robbery, and some were promptly taken
and executed. In vain did Henry VIII. write to Francis I. saying that
complaints had been made by English merchants that their ships had been
pirated by Frenchmen pretending to be Scots, for which redress could
not be obtained in France. In 1531 matters had become so bad, and piracy
was so prevalent, that commissioners were appointed to make inquisitions
concerning this illegal warfare round our coasts. Viscount Lisle,
Vice-Admiral of England, and others were appointed to see to the problem.
So cunning had these rovers become that it was no easy affair to capture
them. But in this same year a notorious pirate named Kellwanton was taken
in the Isle of Man; while another, De Melton by name, who was one of his
accomplices, fled with the rest of the crew in the ship to Grimsby.
Sometimes the very ships which had been sent by the king against the
pirates actually engaged in pillage themselves. There was at least one
instance about this time of some royal ships being unable to resist the
temptation to plunder the richly laden Flemish ships. But after complaint
was made the royal reply came that the Flemings should be compensated
and the plunderers punished. It was all very well to set a thief to
catch a thief, but there were few English seamen of any experience who
had not done some piracy at some time of their career, and when they at
last formed the crews of preventive ships and got wearied of waiting for
pirate craft to come along, it was too much to expect them to remain idle
on the seas when a rich merchantman went sailing past.
Sometimes the pirates would waylay a whole merchant fleet, and if the
latter were sailing light, would relieve the fleet of their victuals,
their clothes, their anchors and cables and sails. But it was not merely
to the North Sea nor to the English Channel that the English pirates
confined themselves. In October 1533 they captured a Biscayan ship
off the coast of Ireland. And during the reign of Henry VIII. there
was an interesting incident connected with a ship named the _Santa
Maria Desaie_. This craft belonged to one Peter Alves, a Portingale,
who hired a mariner, William Phelipp, to pilot his ship from Tenby to
Bastabill Haven. But whilst off the Welsh coast a piratical bark named
the _Furtuskewys_, containing thirty-five desperate corsairs, attacked
the _Santa Maria_ and completely overpowered her. Alves they promptly
got rid of by putting him ashore somewhere on the Welsh coast, and they
then proceeded to sail the ship to Cork, where they sold her to the mayor
and others, the value of the captured craft and goods being 1524 crowns.
Alves did not take this assault with any resignation, but naturally used
his best endeavours to have the matter set right. From the King’s Council
he obtained a command to the Mayor of Cork for restitution, but such was
the lawlessness of the time that this was of no avail. The mayor, whose
name was Richard Gowllys, protested that the pirates told him they had
captured the ship from the Scots and not from the Portingale, and he
added that he would spend £100 rather than make restitution.
But stricter vigilance caused the arrest of some of these pirates. Six of
them were sentenced to death in the Admiralty Court at Boulogne, eleven
others were condemned to death in the Guildhall, London: and in 1537 a
ship was lying at Winchelsea “in gage to Bell the mayor” for £35 for the
piracies committed in her, for she had been captured after having robbed
a Gascon merchantman of a cargo of wines.
The finest of the French sailors for many a century until even the
present day have ever been the Bretons. And just as in the eighteenth
century the most expert sailormen on our coasts were the greatest
smugglers, so in Tudor times the pick of all seamen were sea-rovers.
About the time of Lent, 1537, a couple of Breton pirate ships caused a
great deal of anxiety to our west-country men. One of the two had robbed
an English ship off the Cornish coast and pillaged his cargo of wine.
From Easter-time till August these rovers hung about the Welsh coast,
sometimes coming ashore for provisions and most probably also to sell
their ill-gotten cargoes, but for the most part remaining at sea. It
would seem from the historical records that originally there had been
only one Breton ship that had sailed from St. Malo; but having the good
fortune to capture a fishing craft belonging to Milford Haven, the crew
had been split up into two. Presently the numbers of these French pirates
increased till there was quite a fleet of them cruising about the Welsh
coast. A merchant ship that had loaded a fine cargo at Bristol, bound
across the Bay of Biscay, had been boarded before the voyage had been
little more than begun. For week after week these men robbed every ship
that came past them. But especially were they biding their time waiting
for the English, Irish and Welsh ships who were wont about this period of
the year to come to St. James’s Fair at Bristol.
However, in the meanwhile, the men of the west were becoming much more
alert, and were ready for any chance that might occur. And a Bristol man
named Bowen, after fourteen Breton pirates had come ashore near Tenby
to obtain victuals, acted with such smartness that he was able to have
the whole lot captured and put into prison. And John Wynter, another
Bristolian, knowing that the pirates were hovering about for those ships
bound for the fair, promptly manned a ship, embarked fifty soldiers, as
well as the able seamen, and cruised about ready to swoop down on the
first pirate ship which showed up on the horizon. The full details of
these men and what they did would make interesting reading if they were
obtainable; but we know that of the above-mentioned fourteen, one, John
du Laerquerac, was captain of the Breton craft. On being arrested he
stoutly denied that he had ever “spoiled” English ships. That was most
certainly a bare-faced lie, and presently Peter Dromyowe, one of his own
mariners, confessed that he himself had robbed one Englishman; whereupon
Laerquerac made a confession that, as a matter of fact, he had taken
ships’ ropes, sailors’ wearing apparel, five pieces of wine, a quantity
of fish, a gold crown in money and eleven silver halfpence or pence, as
well as four daggers and a “couverture”!
It was because the English merchants complained that they lost so much
of their imports and exports by depredations from the ships of war
belonging to Biscay, Spain, the Low Countries, Normandy, Brittany and
elsewhere, that Henry VIII. had been prevailed upon to send Sir John
Dudley, his Vice-Admiral, to sea with a small fleet of good ships.
Dudley’s orders were to cruise between the Downs on the east and St.
Michael’s Mount on the west—in other words, the whole length of the
English Channel—according as the wind should serve. In addition, he was
to stand off and on between Ushant and Scilly and so guard the entrance
to the Channel. Furthermore, he was to look in at the Isle of Lundy in
the Bristol Channel—for both Lundy and the Scillies were famous pirate
haunts—and after having so done he was to return and keep the narrow
seas. Dudley was especially admonished to be on the look out to succour
any English merchant ships, and should he meet with any foreign merchant
craft which, under the pretence of trading, were actually robbing the
King’s subjects, he was to have these foreigners treated as absolute
pirates and punished accordingly.
For the state of piracy had become so bad that the King “can no longer
suffer it.” So also Sir Thomas Dudley, as well as Sir John, was busily
employed in the same preventive work. On the 10th of August of that same
year, 1537, he wrote to Cromwell that he had at Harwich arrested a couple
of Frenchmen who two years previously had robbed a poor English skipper’s
craft off the coast of Normandy, and this Englishman had in vain sued
in France for a remedy, since the pirates could never be captured. But
there were so many of these corsairs being now taken that it was a grave
problem as to how they should be dealt with. “If they were all committed
to ward,” wrote Sir Thomas, “as your letters direct, they would fill
the gaol.” Then he adds: “They would fain go and leave the ship behind
them, which only contains ordnance, and no goods or victuals to find
themselves with. If they go to gaol, they are like to perish of hunger,
for Englishmen will do no charity to them. They are as proud naves as I
have talked with.”
Eleven days later came the report from Sir John Dudley of his experiences
in the Channel. He stated that while on his way home he encountered a
couple of Breton ships in the vicinity of St. Helen’s, Isle of Wight,
where he believed they were lying in wait for two Cornish ships “that
were within Porchemouthe haven, laden with tin to the value of £3000.”
Portsmouth is, of course, just opposite St. Helen’s, and on more than one
occasion in naval history was the latter found a convenient anchorage
by hostile ships waiting for English craft to issue forth from the
mainland. But when these Breton pirates espied Dudley’s ships coming
along under sail, they “made in with Porchemouthe,” where Dudley’s men
promptly boarded them and placed them under arrest, with the intention
of bringing them presently to the Thames. Dudley had no doubt whatever
that these were pirates, but at a later date the French ambassador
endeavoured to show that there was no foundation for such a suspicion.
These two French crafts, he sought to persuade, were genuine merchantmen
who had discharged their cargo at “St. Wallerie’s” (that is to say,
St. Valery-sur-Somme), but had been driven to the Isle of Wight by bad
weather, adding, doubtless as a subtle hint, that they had actually
rescued an Englishman chased by a Spaniard. It is possible that the
Frenchmen were telling the truth, though unless the wind had come
southerly and so made it impossible for these bluff-bowed craft to beat
into their port, it is difficult to believe that they could not have run
into one of their own havens. At any rate, it was a yarn which Dudley’s
sailors found not easy to accept.
This was no isolated instance of the capture of Breton craft. In the
year 1532 a Breton ship named the _Mychell_, whose owner was one Hayman
Gillard, her master being Nicholas Barbe of St. Malo, was encountered by
a crew of English seamen who entertained no doubts whatsoever as to her
being anything else than a pirate. Their suspicions were made doubly sure
when they found her company to consist of nine Bretons and five Scots.
They arrested her at sea, and when examined she was found well laden with
wool, cloth and salt hides. Some French pirate ships even went so far as
to wear the English flag of St. George, with the red cross on a white
ground. This not unnaturally infuriated English seamen, especially when
it was discovered that the Bretons had also carried Englishmen as their
pilots and chief mariners, and were training them to become experts in
piracy.
But there were times when English seamen and merchants were able to “get
their own back” with interest, as the following incident will show. At
the beginning of June, in the year 1538, an English merchant, Henry
Davy, freighted a London ship named the _Clement_, which was owned
by one Grenebury, who lived in Thames Street, and dispatched her with
orders to proceed to the “Bay in Breteyne.” She set forth under the
command of a man named Lyllyk, the ship’s purser being William Scarlet,
a London clothworker. Seven men formed her crew, but when off Margate
they took on board nine more. They then proceeded down Channel and took
on board another four from the shore, but espying a Flemish ship of war
they deemed it prudent to get hold of the coast of Normandy as soon as
possible. In the “mayne” sea—by which I understand the English Channel
near the mainland of the Continent—they descried coming over the waves
three ships, and these were found to be Breton merchantmen.
This caused some discussion on board the _Clement_, and Davy, the
charterer, who had come with the ship, remarked to the skipper Lyllyk
that they had lost as much as £60 in goods, which had been captured by
Breton pirates at an earlier date, and had never been able to obtain
compensation in France in spite of all their endeavours. Any one who has
any imagination and a knowledge of seafaring human nature, can easily
picture Lyllyk and his crew cordially agreeing with Davy’s point of
view, and showing more than a mere passive sympathy. The upshot of the
discussion was that they resolved to take the law into their own hands
and capture one of these three ships.
The resolution was put into effect, so that before long they had become
possessed of the craft. The Breton crew were rowed ashore in a boat and
left there, and after collecting the goods left behind, the Englishmen
stowed them in the hold of the _Clement_. A prize crew, consisting of a
man whose name was Comelys, and four seamen, were placed in charge of
the captured ship, which now got under way. The _Clement_, too, resumed
her voyage, and made for Peryn in Cornwall, where she was able to sell,
at a good price, the goods taken out of the Breton. The gross amount
obtained was divided up among the captors, and though the figures may not
seem very large, yet the sum represented the equivalent of what would
be to-day about ten times that amount of money. Henry Davy, being the
charterer, received £17; the master, the mate, the quarter-master and
the purser received each thirty shillings, while the mariners got twenty
shillings apiece. Lyllyk and nine of the crew then departed, while Davy,
Scarlet, Leveret the carpenter and two others got the ship under way,
sailed up Channel and brought the _Clement_ back to the Thames, where
they delivered her to the wife of the owner.
But Englishmen were not always so fortunate, and the North Sea pirates
were still active, in spite of the efforts which had been made by English
kings in previous centuries. In 1538 the cargo ship _George Modye_ put to
sea with goods belonging to a company of English merchant adventurers,
consisting of Sir Ralph Waryn, “good Mr. Lock and Rowland Hyll” and
others. She never reached her port of destination, however, for the
Norwegian pirates pillaged her and caused a loss to the adventurers of
£10,000, whereupon, after complaint had been made, Cromwell was invoked
to obtain letters from Henry VIII. to the kings of Denmark, France and
Scotland that search might be duly made. There was, in fact, a good
deal of luck, even yet, as to whether a ship would ever get to the
harbour whither she was sent. In September 1538 we find Walter Herbart
complaining that twice since Candlemas he had been robbed by Breton
pirates. But, a week later, it is recorded that some pirates, who had
robbed peaceable ships bound from Iceland, had been chased by John
Chaderton and others of Portsmouth and captured about this time.
And it was not always that Englishmen dealt with these foreigners in any
merciful manner, regardless of right or wrong. I have already emphasised
the fact that, as regards the question of legality, there was little
to choose between the seamen of any maritime nation. Rather it was a
question of opportunity, and the very men who to-day complained bitterly
of the robbery of their ships and cargoes might to-morrow be found
performing piracy themselves. A kind of sea-vendetta went on, and in the
minds of the mariners the only sin was that of being found out. So we
notice that, in the spring of 1539, an instance of a Breton ship being
captured by English corsairs who, according to the recognised custom of
the sea, forthwith threw overboard the French sailors. These were all
drowned except one who, “as if by a miracle, swam six miles to shore.”
So says the ancient record, though it is difficult to believe that even
a strong swimmer could last out so long after being badly knocked about.
The Bretons had their revenge this time, for complaint was made to the
chief justices, who within fifteen days had the culprits arrested and
condemned, and six of them were executed on the 19th of May. Before
the end of the month Francis I. wrote to thank the English king for so
promptly dealing with the culprits.
Bearing in mind the interest which Henry VIII. took in nautical matters
and in the welfare of his country generally; recollecting, too, the
determination with which he pursued any project to the end when once
his mind had been made up, we need not be surprised to find that a few
months later in that year this resolute monarch again sent ships—this
time a couple of barks of 120 and 90 tons respectively—“well manned and
ordnanced” to scour the seas for these pirate pests that inflicted so
many serious losses on the Tudor merchants.
A little earlier in that year Vaughan had written to Cromwell that he had
spoken with one who lately had been a “common passenger” in hoys between
London and Antwerp and knew of certain pirates who intended to capture
the merchant ships plying between those two ports. Valuable warning was
given concerning one of these roving craft. She belonged to Hans van
Meghlyn, who had fitted out a ship of the “portage” of 20 lasts and 45
tons burthen. She was manned by a crew of thirty, her hull was painted
black with pitch, she had no “foresprit,” and her foremast leaned forward
like a “lodeman’s” boat. (“Lodeman” was the olden word for pilot—the man
who hove the lead.) Cromwell was advised that this craft would proceed
first to Orfordness (the natural landfall for a vessel to make when bound
across the North Sea from the Schelde), and thence she would proceed
south and lie in wait for ships at the mouth of the Thames. In order to
be ready to pillage either the inward or outward bound craft which traded
with London, this pirate would hover about off White Staple (Whitstable).
Vaughan’s informant thought that sometimes, however, she would change
her locality to the Melton shore in order to avoid suspicion, and he
advised that it would be best to capture her by means of three or four
well-manned oyster boats. There was also another “Easterling” (that is,
one from the east of Germany or the Baltic) pirate who had received his
commission from the Grave of Odenburg. This rover was named Francis Beme
and was now at Canfyre with his ship, waiting for the Grave of Odenburg’s
return from Brussels with money. But the warning news came in time, and
in order to prevent the English merchant ships from falling into the
sea-rovers’ hands, the former were ordered by proclamation to remain in
Antwerp from Ash Wednesday till Easter.