KIDD, THE PIRATE WHO WASN’T A PIRATE
“Whew, I didn’t know they had pirates and buccaneers right up here
around home!” exclaimed Fred. “Think of pirates in Long Island Sound!”
“Of course there were,” declared Jack. “If there weren’t, how do you
suppose Captain Kidd could have buried his treasure up here?”
“That’s so,” admitted his cousin. “But I always thought he pirated down
in the West Indies and just brought his treasure up here to hide it. Do
you suppose he really did bury anything up this way, Uncle Henry?”
Mr. Bickford laughed. “No, most of those stories are purely
imagination,” he replied. “There isn’t a stretch of coast from Canada
to South America that hasn’t got its tale of buried pirate treasure. If
they all were true there’d be more valuables hidden by the pirates than
all the corsairs ever took.”
“Didn’t the buccaneers and pirates really bury treasure, then?” asked
Jack. “You said that Davis was supposed to have hidden his loot on the
Galápagos Islands.”
“Undoubtedly they did,” his father assured him. “The buccaneer leaders
were far more thrifty than their men, and as there were no banking
facilities in the haunts of the pirates and no safe hiding places in
the towns, I have not the least doubt that they did bury vast
quantities of their booty. But, also, I have no doubt but that they
eventually dug most of it up again. The majority of the buccaneer and
pirate captains retired from the profession and settled down to a life
of peace and plenty, as I have said, and there is no reason why they
should have left their treasure hidden away. Of course those who were
suddenly killed might have had money and valuables secreted at the time
of their death, but there were far greater fortunes hidden by the
Spaniards than by the pirates. No doubt thousands and thousands of
dollars’ worth of money, plate and jewels were buried or hidden by the
Dons to prevent their falling into the buccaneers’ hands and were never
recovered. Very often the owners were killed or made prisoners and the
secret of the treasure died with them, or they died a natural death
without digging up their buried riches.
“Of course a great deal of hidden treasure has been found of which the
world never hears. In most countries the government claims a large
share of such finds and naturally the finder, having no desire to share
his unexpected fortune, keeps mum when he discovers it. There are
countless cases of poor negroes and others in the West Indies suddenly
becoming well-to-do without apparent reason. From time to time ancient
coins appear at money changers and now and then we hear of treasure
being found. But as a rule, the sums discovered are not large and are
found by accident.
“And with few exceptions there is every reason to believe that the
valuables were hidden by their lawful owners or were lost or
accidentally buried. For example, there was the man Gayney, who was
drowned in Darien and who had three hundred pieces of eight on his
person. Any one might find that and think it was buried treasure and
never imagine it was the loot carried on a man’s back. At other times,
boats loaded with valuables were wrecked or sunk and the treasure lost.
Then, years later, it is found in the sand of the shore and the finders
think of it as buried treasure. Moreover, wherever the pirates
foregathered they naturally lost more or less money and if, by chance,
some one picks up a few doubloons or pieces of eight in such places it
always starts a tale of buried loot. At Anegada, St. John, St. Martin
and, in fact, every other buccaneers’ old haunt, pieces of money are
picked up from time to time and from these finds the tales of buried
treasure have originated. In all the reliable histories and chronicles
of the buccaneers and pirates I have never found any statement or hint
that would lead one to think that it was customary for the corsairs to
bury or hide their loot. All the tales of pirate captains burying
treasure at dead of night and shooting the men who dug the holes are
pure fiction with no fact on which to base them.
“But there is no question that vast amounts of treasure lie at the
bottom of the sea in the Caribbean and elsewhere. Port Royal, Jamaica,
slipped bodily into the sea with all its treasure—and there was
undoubtedly vast sums in money and jewels in the place—and not a cent
has ever been salvaged. Jamestown, in Nevis, was also submerged by an
earthquake and all the riches it contained still lie at the bottom of
the sea. Countless ships, attacked by the buccaneers, sank before the
pirates could loot them and went to the bottom with their valuables,
and many a buccaneers’ and pirates’ vessel was lost with thousands of
dollars worth of treasure. The floor of the Caribbean is dotted with
such wrecks. In some cases the men escaped and told of the loss, and
the places where the ships went down are known, but in many cases the
vessels with all their treasure and crew merely disappeared and no one
knows their fate. It was thus with Grammont, a famous French buccaneer,
who, in 1686, plundered and burnt Campeche and secured a vast treasure.
But he and his ship were never heard from and beyond a doubt the
immense fortune in gold, silver and precious stones lies somewhere
among the rotted timbers of his ship at the bottom of the Caribbean.”
“Well, it doesn’t sound as if treasure hunting would be very
profitable,” remarked Jack.
“Far more money has been spent in searching for treasure than ever was
lost,” declared Mr. Bickford. “There was the Peruvian treasure supposed
to have been hidden on Cocos Island—a vast fortune in church plate,
holy vessels and coin which was taken away to prevent it falling into
the hands of the enemy. Innumerable expeditions have set out to find it
but none have succeeded, although many have claimed to possess maps of
the spot. But during the years that have passed, the island has
altered, there have been landslides, and, if we are to believe the most
reliable reports, the treasure lies buried under thousands of tons of
rock and earth that has fallen from the mountainside. And as far as
known the treasures that were lost when the Dons hurriedly sent it away
from Old Panama to prevent it falling into Morgan’s hands has never
been found. Some day some one may stumble upon it, but the chances are
that it will remain lost to the world forever.”
“Then all these stories about Captain Kidd’s treasure are just yarns,”
said Fred regretfully. “And you said he wasn’t even a pirate.”
“If Captain Kidd had possessed one-hundredth of the treasure he is
supposed to have buried he would have been the most successful pirate
who ever lived,” declared Mr. Bickford. “There is nothing to prove that
Captain Kidd ever had any considerable treasure and the little he had
was secreted on Gardiner’s Island and recovered by the men who employed
Kidd and for whom it was intended. No, your old hero Kidd was not a
pirate nor a buccaneer. On the contrary, he was a much maligned man, a
weak, rather cowardly chap, who was the tool of unscrupulous
adventurers and paid the penalty for crimes that never were proved
against him. And yet, strangely enough, he became noted as the most
famous of all pirates and his name is a household word and the epitome
of piracy. It is one of the most astounding examples of unwarranted
fame and misconception on record, and so firmly fixed in the mind of
the public is the erroneous idea that Kidd was the most notorious of
pirates that not one person in a thousand will listen to reason or pay
the least heed to documentary evidence or historical records proving he
was no pirate at all.
“It is the hardest thing in the world to down tradition and oddly
enough the more false tradition is the harder it seems to be to correct
it. Despite everything, Kidd will, no doubt, continue to remain the
favorite pirate of romance and story, and to the end of time Kidd’s
treasure will still, in imagination, be buried here, there and
everywhere along the coasts.
“We scarcely ever hear of ‘Blackbeard’s treasure,’ of ‘Morgan’s
treasure’ or of ‘Bonnet’s treasure,’ although each and every one of
those rascals was a pirate and took vast sums and may have buried their
loot for all we know. But always it is Kidd’s treasure, although the
poor fellow never had any to bury.
“As a matter of fact, Captain William Kidd was a respectable and honest
sea captain, a native of Greenock, and was so highly respected for his
integrity that he was given a commission to suppress piracy by King
William the Third of England. The commission was addressed to ‘our
trusty and well-beloved Captain William Kidd of the ship Adventure,
galley’ and was dated 1695. The royal warrant went on to authorize Kidd
to destroy and hunt down ‘divers wicked and ill-disposed persons who
were committing many and great pyraces to the great danger and hurt of
our loving subjects.’
“Kidd, being impecunious, was backed by several rich and influential
persons in Massachusetts and New York, among them Lord Belmont, the
governor of Barbados, who saw in the capture of pirates and the taking
of their ill-gotten loot a chance for large profits.
“The Adventure set forth on her mission in May, 1696, with a crew of
one hundred and fifty-five men and cruised here, there and everywhere
searching for piratical prey. Unfortunately pirates seemed very scarce,
Kidd’s crew became mutinous and clamored for excitement, and the next
thing that was known, word came to the authorities that the Adventure
had attacked and taken a Moorish ship called the Queda Merchant.
Furthermore, reports had it that Kidd had taken possession of the
prize, had transferred his men, guns and other possessions to the Queda
and, having sunk the Adventure, had gone a-pirating in the Moorish
ship. At once he was branded as a pirate and a price put upon his head.
All unwittingly Kidd sailed into Santo Domingo in his prize and there
learned that he was looked upon as a pirate and was wanted by the
authorities.
“Without hesitation, Kidd purchased a sloop, left the Queda in port and
sailed as fast as possible to Boston to explain matters. He was, of
course, rather doubtful of his reception and before throwing himself on
the mercies of the authorities he secreted the few valuables he had on
Gardiner’s Island, sent word to his sponsors, and after a consultation
in which they agreed to stand by him and clear him of the charge of
piracy, he gave himself up.
“Kidd’s explanation was frank and simple. He claimed his crew, a gang
of thugs and cut-throats, had mutinied, had made him prisoner and of
their own volition had captured the prize, and that the Adventure,
being rendered unseaworthy in the action, had been abandoned, and the
men and their belongings transferred to the Moorish ship. He also
testified that his men had threatened to shoot him if he did not accede
to their wishes and that during the time of the capture of the ship he
had been locked in his cabin. He was questioned as to what became of
the valuables, supposedly worth seventy thousand pounds sterling, which
were on the Queda and in reply swore that the men had taken it and made
away with it. In the end, to make a long story short, the trial
simmered down to a charge against the unfortunate Captain of having
killed a gunner named Moore, who was a member of the Adventure’s crew.
Kidd frankly admitted he had killed the fellow by striking him over the
head with a bucket, as Moore had been mutinous and had led the men in
their scheme to turn pirates. Throughout these preliminary hearings,
Kidd’s wealthy sponsors had deserted him. They saw that they would
become involved; and poor Kidd found himself without friends or money
and even deprived of the rights to produce documentary evidence of his
statements. Heavily manacled, he was sent to England and tried on the
charge of piracy and murder at Old Bailey in May, 1701.
“The trial was a rank travesty of justice from the beginning. Papers
and letters favorable to Kidd were refused as evidence; his erstwhile
friends perjured themselves to save their own names; counsel was denied
him and only his faithful wife stood by him. In addition to Kidd, nine
of his crew were also charged with piracy, these being the men who had
remained faithful to their captain, and although all testified in
Kidd’s behalf and substantiated his story, Kidd and six of the men were
condemned to be hanged in chains. At Execution Dock the maligned,
helpless captain and his fellows were strung up without mercy on May
23rd, and their dead bodies suspended in chains along the river side,
where, for years, the bones swayed and rattled in the winds as a grim
warning to all pirates.
“But the execution was a bungling and awful thing. Kidd, standing with
the noose about his neck, was pestered, browbeaten and cajoled to
confess, but stoutly maintained his innocence. As he was swung off, the
rope broke and the poor, tortured, groaning man was again hoisted to
the scaffold where, despite his suffering, a minister and others
exhorted him to confess his crimes and reveal the hiding places of his
treasure. But between pitiful groans and pleas for a speedy death, Kidd
still maintained that he had no treasure and had told only the truth.
Finally, despairing of wringing a confession from one who had nothing
to confess, he was hanged until dead. His entire estate, consisting of
less than seven thousand pounds, was confiscated and presented to the
Greenwich Hospital, where, by all that was right and just, it should
have proved a curse rather than a blessing.
“No one ever knew what became of the Queda or her treasure, but, no
doubt, as Kidd claimed, she was scuttled by the mutinous crew and the
loot divided between them was scattered to the four winds. Upon that
slender mystery of the disappearance of the valuables of the Queda were
built all the tales of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure, and upon the
farce of a trial and the conviction of the unfortunate seaman for
killing a mutinous gunner in self-defense, was reared the undying fame
of Captain Kidd.”
“Gee, that was a shame!” declared Jack. “I feel really sorry for poor
old Captain Kidd. Think of Morgan being knighted and honored after all
he did and Kidd being hung for nothing.”
“You must bear in mind that times had changed since Morgan’s day,” said
Mr. Bickford. “The romantic, picturesque buccaneers were a thing of the
past, and England and her colonies were waging a relentless war on
pirates. In a way we must not be too hard on the authorities for their
treatment of Kidd. They were intent on discouraging piracy and
doubtless felt that, even if there was a question of Kidd’s guilt, his
death would be a wholesome warning to any seamen who felt inclined to
turn pirates. But it certainly is a wonderful example of the irony of
fate to think of Kidd winning undying fame as a bold and ruthless
pirate when—even if he were guilty—he could not have been charged with
taking more than one ship, while others, who destroyed hundreds and
ravaged the seas for years, have been totally forgotten. There was not
even anything romantic, daring or appealing to the imagination in
Kidd’s career. In contrast, consider the most romantic corsair who ever
pirated in the Caribbean, a veritable knight errant of the seas, a
scion of royalty, known as Prince Rupert of the Rhine.”
“Why, I never ever heard of him!” exclaimed Fred. “What did he do?”
“Of course you never heard of him,” said Mr. Bickford. “That is why I
mentioned him, just as an example of how a man who should have been
famous remains unknown and forgotten and a man like Kidd, with no claim
to fame, lives on forever. Prince Rupert was a most romantic and
fascinating character, a real Don Quixote, ever getting into one scrape
after another, living a series of incredible adventures that would have
put the famous D’Artagnan to shame; a dashing, impetuous gallant young
prince who, according to historians, was ‘very sparkish in his dress’
and ‘like a perpetual motion.’ Young, handsome, a dashing cavalier, as
ready with his sword as with his purse, he championed every romantic or
hopeless cause, threw himself into any wild scheme or fray where a lady
was concerned or some one was in distress, and was no sooner out of one
trouble than he was head over heels into another. But he was ever
resourceful, ever light hearted and ever a great favorite with the
ladies. In his youth, he was cast into prison in Linz, but, despite his
plight, he managed to learn drawing, made love to the governor’s
daughter and so won her heart that his escape was made easy.
“Later, he decided that the land held too few opportunities for his
restless, romantic spirit, and with a handful of choice companions he
took to sea in command of a fleet of three ships. These were the
Swallow, his own vessel, the Defiance, under command of his brother,
Prince Maurice, and the Honest Seaman.
“Gay with pennants and bunting, the little argosy set sail from Ireland
in 1648, and with the gallant young Prince, dressed in his gayest
silks, satins and laces, upon the high poop of the Swallow, the three
tiny vessels set off on their voyage to do their bit towards
championing the cause of their king in the far-off Caribbean.
“For five years they sailed. Battling right nobly with the Dons,
escaping annihilation a thousand times, beset by tempest and storm and
meeting enough adventures at every turn to satisfy even the Prince’s
ardent soul. A book might be written on the romantic, harebrained,
reckless deeds performed by that hot-blooded young scion of royalty,
but in the end, in a terrific hurricane, Prince Rupert’s fleet was
driven on the treacherous reefs off Anegada. Prince Maurice in the
Defiance was lost, the Honest Seaman was battered to pieces and her few
survivors reached the low, desolate land more dead than alive, but the
Swallow, by chance or Providence, managed to escape by driving through
a narrow entrance in the jagged reef to the sheltered water within.
Battered and leaking, badly crippled, the poor Swallow was far from
seaworthy when the storm was over and the gay Prince, saddened and
sorrowful at the loss of his brother and his men, sailed dolefully for
England. He was a changed man thereafter and settled down to a very
quiet life in a little house at Spring Gardens. All his brave deeds
were forgotten, even his name passed into oblivion and in 1682 he died,
almost unknown, in his English home.”