THE STORY OF CAPTAIN KIDD
We come now to another historical pirate, who, both in America and
England, will long be remembered for his very interesting exploits.
Following the modern tendency of endeavouring to whitewash notorious
criminals of a bygone age, a recent writer has sought to dismiss the idea
that Kidd was to be numbered among the pirates. I admit that at one time
this man was an honest seaman, and that force of circumstances caused his
career to become completely altered. But a pirate he certainly became,
and no amount of juggling with facts can alter this.
The story of his life is as follows: He was a Scotsman who was born in
Greenock, which has given to the world so many fine seamen in different
generations, and so many handsome new ships both of wood and of steel.
Sailing ships and steam-propelled liners have been built here during the
past two hundred years by the score. After a while we find Kidd in North
America. He became a resident of New York, and in 1691 married a widow.
He became a prosperous shipmaster sailing out of New York, and they say
that in his house in Liberty Street was the first Turkey carpet ever seen
in New York. He was a man well-known to the local merchants, and for a
time had command of a privateer cruising against the French in West
Indian waters. This was the period during which William III. was at war
with our French neighbours.
In the year 1695 Kidd had crossed to England and was in London, having
command of the brigantine _Antigoa_, of New York. Now about this time the
King had appointed the Earl of Bellomont to be governor of New England
and New York. And the latter was especially instructed to suppress the
prevailing piracy which was causing so much distress along the coast.
Lord Bellomont, who had been governor of Barbadoes, suggested that Kidd
should be entrusted with a man-of-war, as he was a most suitable person
to send against these sea-rovers, knowing as he did every inch of the
coast and the favourite hiding-places of the pirates. But the Admiralty
did not esteem it suitable for Kidd to have a government ship under him,
and there the matter ended. But Bellomont was one of those far-sighted
men who ever had an eye for the main chance. He and his friends were well
aware of the enormous amount of money which these pirates accumulated,
and since the Admiralty would not give him a frigate, he resolved to
form a small syndicate among his friends and fit out a private ship. He
decided to appoint Kidd as captain. The latter was not anxious to accept
this appointment, but Bellomont pointed out that if he did not, Kidd’s
own vessel would be detained in the Thames; so at last he consented.
In order to give the project a certain amount of status and in order to
be able to enforce greater discipline over the crew, a King’s commission
was obtained for Kidd, authorising him “to apprehend, seize, and take
into your custody” all “pirates, freebooters, and sea-rovers, being our
subjects, or of other nations associated with them.” But he was also
given a “commission of reprisals.” As it was then time of war, this
second commission gave him justification for capturing any French ships
he might encounter. The ship which had been purchased for him was called
the _Adventure_, of 287 tons, 34 guns and 70 or 80 men.
In the month of May 1696, we find her sailing out of Plymouth Sound bound
for New York. It should be mentioned that Kidd and a man named Robert
Livingstone had undertaken to pay one-fifth of the expenses, whilst
Bellomont, with the First Lord of the Admiralty, the Lord Chancellor
and certain other gentlemen had put up the other four-fifths of the
capital. On the voyage out, Kidd fell in with a French fishing craft
off the Newfoundland banks and annexed her. Owing to the second of his
commissions just mentioned, this was no act of piracy but perfectly legal
as a privateer. Arrived in New York, Kidd made it known that he needed
a number of additional hands as crew, and, as an incentive, he offered
each man a share, reserving for himself and owners forty shares. He got
an additional number of men, comprising now 155, and then sailed away.
He had shipped a miscellaneous lot of rascals—naval deserters, pirates
out of employment, fugitives from justice, brawlers, thieves, rogues
and vagabonds. They had signed on, attracted by the chance of obtaining
plenty of booty. He set a course across the Atlantic, and his first call
was at Madeira, where he took on board wine and other necessaries. From
there he proceeded to the Cape Verde Islands, where he obtained salt and
provisions, and having all this done, steered in a southerly direction,
rounded the Cape of Good Hope, and hauled up into the Indian Ocean till
he found himself off Madagascar, which was a notorious hunting ground
for pirates. It was now February of 1697, the _Adventure_ having left
Plymouth for New York the previous May.
But, as it happened, there were no pirate ships to be found off
Madagascar, for they were somewhere out at sea looking for spoil.
Therefore, after watering and taking on board more provisions, he steered
to the north-east across the Indian Ocean till he came to the Malabar
coast in the month of June. His ship was sadly in need of repairs, and
he was in serious need of further stores. He had come a long way from
New York to India, and his ship had not earned a penny since she left
America. But he managed to borrow a sum of money from some Frenchmen who
had lost their ship but had saved their effects, and with this he was
able to buy materials for putting his ship in a seaworthy condition.
And now there came a change, and from being a privateer he became a
pirate. Once more he crossed the Indian Ocean and arrived at Bab’s Key,
which is on an island at the entrance to the Red Sea. He began to open
his mind to his crew and to let them understand that he was making a
change. So far he had acted according to the law and his commission,
though not a single pirate had he seen. He knew that the Mocha fleet
would presently come sailing that way, and he addressed his men in these
words: “We have been unsuccessful hitherto; but courage, my boys, we’ll
make our fortunes out of this fleet.” There can be little doubt but
that Kidd had been working at this idea as he came across the Indian
Ocean. Before a man becomes a robber either by land or by sea, there
is a previous mental process. A man cannot say that he acted on the
spur of the moment without confessing that he had been entertaining
the suggestion of robbery some time before. It would seem that Kidd
originally had every intention of keeping to the terms and spirit of
his two commissions. But as he had been sailing across the world without
luck, he became despondent. He thought not merely of himself, or of his
crew, but of Bellomont and the rest of the syndicate. Time and expenses
had been running on, and there was nothing on the credit side beyond
that one French ship of a year ago. He was utterly despondent, and as
a man down on his luck thieves on land so he would now act on sea. The
intention was thoroughly wrong, but it was comprehensible.
He waited for the Mocha fleet, but it came not; so he had a boat hoisted
out, and sent her well-manned along the coast to bring back a prisoner,
or at any rate obtain intelligence somehow. In a few days the boat
returned, announcing there were fourteen ships ready to sail—English,
Dutch and Moorish. He therefore kept a man continually on the look out
at the masthead lest the fleet should sail past without being seen; for
Kidd was well-nigh desperate. And one evening, about four days later, the
ships appeared in sight, being convoyed by two men-of-war—one English
and one Dutch. Kidd soon fell in with them, got among them, and fired at
the Moorish ship which happened to be nearest to him. Thereupon the two
convoys bore down on him, engaged him hotly, and compelled him to sheer
off. So, as he had begun to play the pirate, he resolved to go on. He
crossed the Indian Ocean to the eastward yet again, and cruised along
the Malabar coast, and at last he got a prize. She was a Moorish vessel,
owned by Moorish merchants, but her master was an Englishman named
Parker, and there was also a Portuguese named Don Antonio on board.
These two men Kidd forced to join him, the former as pilot and the latter
as interpreter. Thus the commissioned privateer was now a full-fledged
pirate; he had sunk deep down into the mire. And he acted with all the
customary cruelty of a pirate. He hoisted his prisoners up by the arms,
drubbed them with a naked cutlass in order that they might reveal where
the money was hidden. But all that he obtained was a bale of pepper and a
bale of coffee. But then he sailed along and touched at Carawar, where he
discovered that already the news of the assault on the Moorish ship had
arrived and was being discussed with great excitement by the merchants.
Kidd was suspected, and two Englishmen came aboard and inquired for
Parker and Don Antonio. Kidd denied that he knew such persons, and as he
had taken the precaution to hide them away in a secret place down the
hold, the visitors, still suspicious, went ashore without any definite
tidings.
For over a week these two wretched men were kept in their hiding-place,
and once more Kidd put to sea. A Portuguese man-of-war having been
sent to cruise after him, he engaged her for six hours, but as he
could not take her, and as he was the swifter sailer, he cleared off.
Soon afterwards he became possessor of a Moorish ship by a very subtle
quibble, which indicated the man’s astuteness. The vessel was under the
command of a Dutch skipper, and as soon as Kidd gave her chase, the
pirate hoisted French colours. When the merchantship saw this, she also
showed the French ensign. The _Adventure_ soon overtook her and hailed
her in French. The merchantship, having a Frenchman on board, answered
in that language. Kidd ordered her to send her boat aboard, and then
asked the Frenchman—a passenger—if he had a pass for himself. The latter
replied in the affirmative. Kidd then told the Frenchman he must pass
as captain, “and,” he added, “you _are_ captain.” His intention was
simply this. Remembering the terms of his commission, he was untruthfully
insisting that the merchantman was French and therefore legally his
prize. It was a bare-faced quibble, and one wonders why so unprincipled a
man should deem it necessary to go out of his way to make such a pretence.
So he relieved the ship of her cargo and sold it later on. Presently,
as he began to suffer from qualms of conscience and declined to attack
a Dutch ship with which they came up, his crew mutinied, and one day,
whilst a man named Moore, his gunner, was on deck discussing the Dutch
ship, Moore so far lost control of his tongue as to accuse Kidd of having
ruined them all. The pirate answered this complaint by calling him a dog,
taking up a bucket and breaking the man’s skull therewith, so that he
died the next day. Kidd now cruised about the Malabar coast, plundering
craft, taking in water and supplies from the shore, and pillaging when he
liked.
And now he came up with a fine 400-ton Moorish merchantman named the
_Queda_, whose master was an Englishman named Wright, for it was by no
means rare for these Eastern owners to employ English or Dutch skippers,
as the latter were such good seamen and navigators. Kidd as before chased
her under French colours, and having got abreast of her compelled her to
hoist out her boat and send it aboard. He then informed Wright he was to
consider himself a prisoner, and he learnt that there were only three
Europeans on board—two Dutch and one Frenchman—the rest being either
Indians or Armenians. The last mentioned were also part-owners of the
cargo. Kidd set the crew of this vessel ashore at different places along
the coast, and soon sold about £10,000 worth of the captured cargo, so
that each man had about £200, whilst Kidd got £8000.
Putting part of his own crew into the _Queda_, Kidd took the _Adventure_
and the prize southwards to Madagascar, and when he had come to anchor
a ludicrous incident occurred. For there came off to him a canoe
containing several Englishmen who had previously known Kidd well. They
now saluted him and said they understood that he had come to take
them and hang them, “which would be a little unkind in such an old
acquaintance.” But Kidd at once put them at their ease, swearing he had
no such intention, and that he was now in every respect their brother,
and just as bad as they; and calling for alcohol he drank their captain’s
health. The men then returned on board their ship _Resolution_. But by
now, after all her travels backwards and forwards over the ocean, the
_Adventure_ had become very leaky and her two pumps had to be kept going
continuously. So Kidd transferred all the tackle and guns from her to the
_Queda_, and in future made her his home. He then divided up the spoil on
the sharing principle as before. About a hundred of his men now deserted
him, and, with his forty men and about £20,000 in his ship, he put to
sea, bound at last for America again, for he was under orders to report
to Bellomont at the end of the cruise.
He arrived at the West Indies, called at one of the Leeward islands and
learnt that the news of his piracies had spread over the civilised world,
and he was wanted as a pirate. The date was now April 1699. He handed
over the _Queda_ to a man named Bolton who was a merchant at Antigua,
and bought from him a sloop named the _San Antonio_, into which he put
all his treasure. He must now press on and swear to Bellomont that he
was innocent of piracy. Being anxious to communicate with his wife, Kidd
steered for Long Island Sound, proceeded as far as Oyster Bay, landed,
and sent her a message, and after going on his northward voyaging,
transferred some of his treasure into three sloops. Towards the end of
June he headed for Boston, arriving there on the 1st July, where he had
various interviews with Bellomont. The sloop and her contents, as well
as the other three sloops’ goods were arrested, and Kidd was afterwards
taken across to England. He and six others were tried at a sessions of
Admirality at the Old Bailey in May 1701 for piracy and robbery on the
high seas, and found guilty. Kidd was further charged with the murder of
the man Moore in the bucket incident, and also found guilty.
Kidd’s defence was that the man mutinied against him, that his accusers
had committed perjury and that he was “the most innocent person of them
all.” But the Court thought otherwise, and a week or so later he and the
other six men were executed at the Execution Dock, and afterwards their
bodies were hung up in chains, at intervals along the river, where they
remained for a long time.
Of the treasure which was brought by Kidd to America, and has frequently
been sought for by treasure-hunters unavailingly, the exact total of
gold dust, gold coins, gold bars; silver rings, silver buttons, broken
silver, silver bars; precious stones—diamonds, rubies, green stones, and
so on—reached the following enormous amount—
Gold 1111 oz.
Silver 2353 ”
Jewels 17 ”
A certain amount of plate and money was successfully retained by Kidd’s
wife, and of what was left of the booty after payment of the legal
fees involved in his trial, the sum of £6472 was, by special Act of
Parliament, handed over to Greenwich Hospital.[2]
Surely, with such facts as these before one, it is a hopeless case for
any modern enthusiast to pretend for a moment that the famous Captain
Kidd was not a pirate. If his luck had turned out better, probably
he would have contentedly remained a privateer. But opportunity is
illustrative of the man, and if ever a sailor succeeded in showing
himself to be a pirate with all the avariciousness and cruelty which the
word suggests, here you have it in the life of Captain Kidd.