THE LAST OF THE BUCCANEERS
“Gosh, that was a good joke on the buccaneers,” laughed Jack. “Now do
tell us more about Ringrose, Dad. He must have been a fine fellow. Just
as soon as you get through I’m going to borrow that log of his and read
it from beginning to end.”
“Me, too,” cried Fred with enthusiasm. “And I’m going to read
Esquemeling.”
“You’ll find both Esquemeling’s and Ringrose’s log most interesting,”
said Mr. Bickford, “and you’ll be amused at the map. See here—this is
the chart by which Ringrose steered the Trinity. See how the Amazon and
the Rio de la Plata are pictured as one huge estuary of the sea, making
part of Brazil and all of Uruguay and Paraguay into a great island.
Very little was known of South America in those days, although, as you
will notice, the West Indies and Central America were accurately
shown.”
“Golly, I don’t see how they ever did get around,” declared Fred, as
the two boys studied the ancient chart. “Hadn’t any one else ever
sailed around the Horn before?”
“Yes,” replied his uncle. “Vasco da Gama had done so, and Drake and
Magellan had gone through the Straits, but no buccaneer had ever
attempted it and none had sailed from the Pacific around into the
Atlantic. But the success of Sharp’s voyage and Ringrose’s experiences
led the way for many a later buccaneer raid into the South Sea, as they
called the Pacific. Buccaneering was no longer a safe profession in the
Caribbean, for any buccaneers caught were tried and hanged as pirates,
but the South Seas were out of England’s jurisdiction and offered a
fine field. It is unnecessary to go into details of all the
buccaneering, or perhaps I might say pirating, cruises that were made
to the Pacific, but it is well to learn a little of the more noteworthy
ones, especially as our old friends Dampier, Wafer and Ringrose took
prominent parts in them.
“The first buccaneers to sail for the ‘South Sea’ after Sharp’s
exploits became known, set forth from Chesapeake Bay in August, 1683.
Their ship was the Revenge, of eighteen guns and seventy men, in charge
of Captain John Davis, who had won considerable fame as a pirate by
sacking St. Augustine, Florida. With Davis went Cook, who had
accompanied Sharp, as well as Wafer, the surgeon, who had received such
unappreciated honors at the hands of the Darien Indians. Off the coast
of Sierra Leone they seized a Danish ship of thirty-six guns and,
finding her a much better vessel than their own, at once transferred
their belongings to the prize and scuttled the Revenge. Then, renaming
their new ship the Bachelors’ Delight, the corsairs headed for Cape
Horn and reached Juan Fernandez without mishap. Here they fell in with
another buccaneer ship, the Nicholas, and together the two cruised
northward to the Gulf of Nicoya, taking many prizes and attacking, with
considerable success, the smaller towns on the South America coast. In
the Gulf of Nicoya Cook died and Davis was left as sole
commander-in-chief. Those on the Nicholas, however, were bent on
pirating through the East Indies and shortly after Cook’s death parted
from the Bachelors’ Delight and set off on their own account, leaving a
grewsome trail through the South Seas and along the African coast on
their way to England. Davis and his company confined their activities
to the American coast until they met the Cygnet at the Island of La
Plata. The latter, which had been fitted out as a trader in London, had
soon abandoned peaceable pursuits and had become a full-fledged pirate
with our old friend Ringrose as navigator or pilot and Dampier, the
naturalist-author, as quarter-master, with an old buccaneer named Swan
in command. The two ships at once agreed to keep together and we may be
sure there were wildly hilarious times when Dampier, Ringrose, Wafer
and the others once more met, here in this out-of-the-world spot in the
Pacific. Remembering the rich pickings they had had under Sharp, the
veterans urged attacks on Paita, Guayaquil, Panama and other towns as
they had done in the Trinity. But the Dons had grown wise; corsairs
were no longer rare or unexpected upon the Pacific, and a warm
reception met the buccaneers at every town they visited. They took many
prizes nevertheless, and we may be quite sure that no more cargoes of
‘tin’ were cast into the sea.
“For several weeks they blockaded Panama, and while off this port they
were reënforced by Captains Grogniet and L’Escayer, French buccaneers,
who with two hundred Frenchmen and one hundred and eighty English had
crossed the Isthmus. Shortly after, Captain Townley with one hundred
and eighty buccaneers arrived by the same route, and a little later two
hundred and sixty more French appeared. With a total force of nine
hundred and sixty men, which Davis divided among ten captured ships,
the buccaneers felt they were strong enough to withstand anything and
impatiently awaited the arrival of the plate fleet from Lima.
“But when, on May 28, 1685, the long-expected treasure fleet hove in
sight the buccaneers’ hearts fell. For the Dons had been warned and
instead of helpless galleons carrying the vast fortune in gold and
bullion, the pirates saw, to their consternation, that the plate was
convoyed by six great Spanish warships, six smaller sloops of war and
two fire ships. The buccaneers had no mind to commit suicide and after
firing a few defiant-shots at long range they very wisely pulled up
anchors and sailed away, leaving the triumphant Dons to discharge their
precious cargo in peace.
“Arriving at the Island of Quibo, the buccaneers met still another
party of pirates and almost at once dissensions arose between the
French and British corsairs. As a result, Davis and his men sailed
north, plundered Leon and Rio Lexa in Nicaragua, and, learning that a
plate ship was due from Manila, they cruised along the coasts of Mexico
and Central America awaiting its arrival. But they were not content to
wait patiently and must needs raid the coastal towns, with the result
that over sixty of Swan’s men were cut off and completely wiped out by
a Spanish ambuscade. This was the most severe blow the pirates had ever
received on the South Sea, and among the killed were several officers
and the pilot, Basil Ringrose.
“Disappointed at missing the galleon and furious at the loss of his
men, Swan accused Davis of negligence and a severe quarrel arose among
the buccaneers. This ended in Swan setting sail for the Philippines,
where his men mutinied and the unfortunate captain and thirty-six
others were marooned, the Cygnet sailing on without them. Among the
mutineers was Dampier, still, no doubt, keeping his journal in his
‘joyente of bamboo,’ and very interestingly he wrote of the Celebes,
Timor, New Holland and Australia. At the Nicobar Islands Dampier had
had enough of pirating, and with a few companions, deserted the Cygnet
and by hook or crook managed to reach England in safety, where he
devoted the rest of his life to publishing his journals and his
‘special draughts’ for the edification of his less adventurous
countrymen.
“It was lucky he did so, for the ship, thoroughly unseaworthy, barely
succeeded in reaching Madagascar before she foundered. Here some of the
men settled down and took service with the native chiefs while others,
in time, reached home.
“In the meantime, Townley had also left Swan and had set out to rejoin
his erstwhile French allies, with whom he took vast treasure at Quibo,
Grenada and Lavelia, although Townley lost his life at the last place.
“The Bachelors’ Delight continued to cruise up and down the coast of
Peru for the next two years, sacking many towns, seizing innumerable
ships and accumulating vast plunder, which Davis is reputed to have
hidden on the Galápagos Islands.
“But the Dons were becoming heartily sick of the nuisance of the
English pirates, and early in 1687, sent a powerful fleet to destroy
them. A terrific battle resulted, a running fight being kept up for
seven days, and, though many of the pirates were killed, the ship
managed to escape. The buccaneers, however, had had a wholesome lesson,
and when, a few days later, they again met Townley’s men they decided
to revenge themselves for their loss by one last raid. This fell on
Guayaquil, which was taken and sacked, and then, realizing even the
South Sea was becoming too hot for them, the pirates refitted at the
Galápagos and sailed around Cape Horn to the Virgin Islands, where they
arrived in 1688, after five years of pirating in the Pacific.”
“Gosh, I never knew before that there were buccaneers in the
Philippines and Madagascar and all those places,” said Jack. “Say, they
went all over the world, didn’t they?”
“You forget,” his father reminded him, “that they were no longer
buccaneers in the true sense of the word. They had degenerated to
common pirates and attacked any ship they met, except British, and they
were not by any means overpunctilious in that respect. Early in the
eighteenth century,—soon after the Cygnet’s wreck, in fact?—Madagascar
became a favorite pirates’ lair and they even set up an independent
kingdom, or rather republic, there. Had they possessed a leader such as
Morgan, Mansvelt or Sharp, no doubt they would have maintained a colony
which might have established British dominion over a vast area, but
they were always quarreling among themselves and never succeeded in
anything for long.”
“But what became of them all?” asked Fred. “They never seemed to get
killed off or hung.”
“Some settled down in the West Indies, others in England or Europe and
others in the American colonies, and led respectable lives under
fictitious names among people who never suspected who they were. At
times, though, they were recognized, brought to trial or hung or
managed to slip away and find new homes. Many a well-to-do planter in
the West Indies; many a wealthy merchant and shipowner in the New
England colonies, made the beginnings of his fortune by pirating. And
many of them, of whom the world never hears, led most romantic and
adventurous lives. For example, there was Red Legs. He was a most
picturesque character—not a pirate by choice, but by force of
circumstances, and I’m happy to say that he eventually became a highly
respected and charitable man. Indeed, I have actually stopped in the
house he built and occupied after he gave up piracy.”
“Oh, do tell about him!” cried Jack. “Gee—that’s a great name—Red Legs!
I’ll bet he was a peach of a pirate.”
“He was,” asserted Mr. Bickford, with a smile. “But I must pass over
his career very briefly, for there were many other interesting
buccaneers and pirates I have not mentioned as yet.
“Red Legs was originally a slave—one of those unfortunates who were
taken during Cromwell’s time, and, because they wore kilts—being Irish
and Scotch, they were nicknamed ‘red-legs.’ At that time it was
customary to ship prisoners and malefactors as slaves to the West
Indies, where they were sold for fifteen hundred pounds of sugar each.
They were marked or branded like cattle, compelled to labor with the
blacks and were treated far more cruelly than the negro slaves. Many of
them were shipped to Barbados and their descendants may still be seen
there and are still called ‘red-legs.’ A few have become well-to-do,
but the majority are miserable, ragged, degenerate folk who have never
recovered from the effects of their ancestors’ servitude.
“The future pirate ‘Red Legs,’ however, fell into good hands—a planter
who secretly sympathized with the prisoners’ cause,—and he was well
educated and was practically adopted by his owner. When still a mere
lad, however, his owner died and he was sold to a cruel master who made
life miserable for him. As a result, he decided to stow away on some
ship bound for a Dutch island, but in the darkness, when swimming to
the vessel, he became confused and by chance clambered onto the deck of
a buccaneer ship. As a result, he was compelled to join the pirates and
took part in their raids. But he was no pirate at heart. He could never
bear the sight of tortures or brutality and resented the treatment of
captive women. Once, in a quarrel over a female prisoner whom the
captain was maltreating, the ex-slave killed his commander and, to his
amazement, was elected captain himself. As a buccaneer chief he
performed some really amazing deeds. He took the Island of Margarita
and the vast fortune in pearls awaiting transportation to Spain. He
sacked Santa Ysobel in Mexico, and he became one of the most notorious
West Indian corsairs, although he was famed for the fact that he never
permitted cruelties or the butchering of prisoners. Eventually he tired
of the life and settled in Nevis with an old crony. Here he was
discovered and cast into prison, but was freed by the earthquake that
destroyed the town and, clinging to a floating bit of wreckage, escaped
the fate of thousands of the citizens. Eventually he made his way to
Dominica, settled down again and spent the remaining days of his life
in peace, a most worthy citizen. But ever he must have lived in deadly
fear of discovery or betrayal. His house was built like a fortress with
moats, heavy walls and underground vaults, while the balustrade to his
verandah was most fittingly fashioned from old musket barrels.”
“Well, he was really a good pirate,” declared Jack. “Were there any
others like him?”
“Not exactly,” replied his father. “But men often took to piracy for
most peculiar reasons. For example, there was Major Stede Bonnet, also
a native of Barbados. But unlike Red Legs, Major Bonnet, far from being
a slave, was a most honored and well-to-do member of the colony. He was
a gentleman by birth, well educated, possessed a large fortune and was
an army officer. However, there was one fly in the gallant Major’s
ointment. He had a nagging, scolding wife. But not until in 1716, when
the Major began acting most strangely, did tongues begin to wag over
him or his household. At that date Major Bonnet suddenly purchased a
sloop, fitted her with ten guns and engaged a crew of seventy men.
Then, indeed, did speculation become rife. To all inquiries the Major
replied ‘wait’ and the mystery deepened as the shipwrights rigged the
craft, and upon its stern appeared the name ‘Revenge.’ Then one dark
night, the Revenge slipped out of the harbor and disappeared, but in a
few months came tidings of her that were a nine days’ wonder in
Barbados. Major Stede had turned pirate! The Revenge was cruising off
the American coast, taking prizes right and left; she had become the
terror of Philadelphia, Salem, Norfolk and other coast towns, and the
Major, to add insult to injury had made Gardiner’s Island in Long
Island Sound his headquarters. Evidently pirating had appealed to the
Major as a peaceful life beside the nagging tongue of Mrs. Bonnet.
“But the poor, hen-pecked Major’s career did not last long. He fell in
with Teach, otherwise known as Blackbeard, who pretended to be an ally
and then ruthlessly robbed the amateur pirate, and, a little later, the
Major was captured off the Carolina coast. He managed to escape in a
canoe, but the reward of seventy pounds sterling offered for him, dead
or alive, soon brought results. He was retaken, tried at Charleston and
hanged. After the long-winded lecture and flowery-worded harangue that
the presiding judge inflicted upon the poor condemned man the Major
must have really welcomed hanging, and as he did not even plead the
‘discomforts to be found in the married state’ as extenuating
circumstances for his misdeeds the execution was carried out at once.”
“That would have been funny if the poor Major hadn’t been hanged,” said
Jack. “But please tell us about Blackbeard. Was he a buccaneer?”
“I’ll tell you of him presently,” replied Mr. Bickford, “but let us
follow up the history of the buccaneers in its proper sequence first.
As I have said, the buccaneers, as such, were practically destroyed
when Morgan was made Lieutenant-Governor of Jamaica and waged a
relentless war on his former associates. But to drive the corsairs from
all their lairs in the Islands and about the Spanish Main was too big a
job even for Morgan and the British king. To be sure they were driven
from Jamaica, but the French still held Tortuga; there was a fortified
island where they foregathered in Samaná Bay in Santo Domingo, and on
many a small outlying bay and islet they were comparatively safe. Then
there were the Dutch Islands and the Virgins. These last were
particular favorites of the buccaneers. They belonged to France,
Sweden, Denmark, Holland and England and always they had been neutral
ground for the freebooters. Here in these tiny out-of-the-way spots
they could careen and refit, could carouse ashore and were safe from
pursuit. The people looked upon them as friends; they spent money
freely, and in return for the privileges and security afforded them,
they never molested the inhabitants or their property. Many a buccaneer
has swung to his own yardarm for an insult to some Virgin Islander;
many a man was pistoled by his captain for attempting to make free with
Virgin Islander’s property, and in the Virgin Island ports—in St.
Martin, St. Barts, St. John, Anegada and even in St. Thomas the
remnants of the Brethren of the Main found snug lairs.
“Many of the little islands were surrounded with dangerous reefs, where
large ships could not enter, but whose secret channels were known to
the buccaneers, and at almost all of them the corsairs erected forts
and mounted guns. Montbars, the ‘Exterminator,’ as he was called, made
his headquarters at Saint Bartholomew or St. Barts as it is more
commonly called, others selected St. Martin, others Virgin Gorda and
still more Anegada. All about here are names redolent of the
buccaneers, such as Norman Island, Dead Man’s Chest, Rum Island,
Dutchman’s Cap, Broken Jerusalem, while we also find such places as Sir
Francis Drake’s Bay, Rendezvous Bay, Privateers’ Bay, Gallows Bay,
Doubloon Cove, etc.
“Most of the freebooters at Anegada were destroyed or driven off by
expeditions sent from Jamaica by Morgan, for Anegada, like Virgin Gorda
and Tortola, were British; but the buccaneers, who, you must remember,
were now out-and-out pirates and had been declared so by England and
France, were still comparatively safe in the Dutch and Danish isles.
Indeed, the Danish officials were quite openly in league with the
pirates, and one governor of St. Thomas, Adolf Esmit—who, by the way,
had been a buccaneer himself—was closely identified with a most
notorious pirate, Jean Hamlin.
“It was in 1682—about the time Sharp returned from his ‘dangerous
voyage’—that Hamlin took as a prize the French ship, La Trompeuse,
refitted her as a corsair and made a swift and successful piratical
cruise through the Caribbean. Despite all protests of the British,
Hamlin made his headquarters at St. Thomas, where he was entertained by
the governor—with whom, no doubt, he shared his loot—and was afforded
every courtesy and aid in fitting for another raid. For over a year
Hamlin wrought havoc with British, French, Spanish and Dutch shipping
with equal impartiality, finally culminating in a wholesale capture of
seventeen Dutch and British ships off the coast of Africa.
“Returning from this foray the pirates were loudly welcomed in St.
Thomas; the merchants bid for the loot brought ashore, and Hamlin made
merry with his good friend, the governor. But word of the corsair’s
whereabouts had been carried to the neighboring British Islands.
Governor Stapelton, of Antigua, despatched the H.M.S. Francis under
stout old Captain Carlisle to St. Thomas, and three days after Hamlin’s
triumphant arrival at the island the British frigate sailed into the
harbor.
“It was useless for the pirates to attempt to escape or to resist.
Their ship was under the guns of the frigate scarcely a pistol shot
away and, hastily scrambling into their boats and firing a few guns to
‘save their faces,’ the pirate captain and his men rowed for shore and
sought protection under the wings of the governor. Carlisle wasted no
time in formalities and, despite the fact that he was in the waters of
Denmark, promptly fired the pirate ship and blew her to bits.
“Of course Governor Esmit protested, claiming he had already seized the
Trompeuse in the name of the Danish king, but Captain Carlisle snapped
his fingers—figuratively speaking—in the Danes’ faces, asked them what
they were going to do about it and sailed away, well satisfied with a
good deed well done. In the meantime, Esmit provided the pirates with a
new vessel, but realizing that complications might arise, he suggested,
in a friendly way, that henceforth some more isolated, out-of-the-way
spot would be better adapted to piratical uses.”