THE END OF BLACKBEARD
“As is often the case, Teach, just when he felt himself safest, was in
the most imminent peril. The munificent reward offered for his death or
capture had proved a tempting bait, and a brave young naval officer,
Lieutenant Maynard of H.M.S. Pearl, had made up his mind to pocket that
one hundred pounds and several of the forty pound rewards as well.
Gathering together a few brave and tried friends and old shipmates,
Maynard manned a small sloop, loaded it with a plentiful supply of arms
and ammunition and, having learned of Blackbeard’s whereabouts, set
sail for Ocracoke. Long before the gallant lieutenant came within sight
of the pirates’ lair, however, Teach had word of his coming, but this
only amused the black-whiskered corsair. It would serve to enliven a
dull day, and he and his men looked forward with pleasurable
anticipation to Maynard’s arrival.
“But the villainous pirate little knew the manner of man who was coming
to attack him. As the day dawned, those on the pirate ship saw the
sloop approaching, and, realizing that his situation in the exposed
anchorage was not well adapted to defensive tactics, Blackbeard cut his
cable, hoisted the black flag and allowed his vessel to drift upon the
mudflats with the tide. This was a tactful move, for Maynard’s craft
drew too much water to come to grips with the pirate, and as neither
vessel carried cannon, the battle would have to be a hand-to-hand
combat, and the pirates would have every advantage, as their enemies
would be compelled to board them. But the lieutenant had no intention
of giving the pirates any advantage he could avoid. He was out to get
Blackbeard, dead or alive, and he meant to succeed. Throwing over his
ballast, together with anchors, fittings, water casks and spare spars,
Maynard lightened his sloop until she could pass over the flats, and
then, hoisting sail, he bore down upon the stranded pirate craft.
“Blackbeard, with lighted fuses glowing in his hair and beard, drawn
cutlass and pistols in hand, leaped upon the rail, ‘hailed him in a
rude manner and cursed most horribly,’ as the old accounts tell us, and
then, in a bit of bravado, raised a glass of grog and in full view of
his enemies drank to ‘the damnation of the attackers.’
“Even with the lightened sloop, Maynard found, however, that he could
not come to grips with Teach’s vessel, and so, piling his men into
small boats, the lieutenant headed for the stranded pirate, intending
to board her. But long before they could gain the vessel’s sides they
were met with such a galling musketry fire that they were compelled to
retreat with twenty-nine men killed and wounded.
“This was, indeed, a wretched beginning, but Maynard was a resourceful
man and, ordering his men below decks, so that only himself and the
helmsman remained in sight, he allowed his sails to flap and swing as
though he had no men able to handle the sloop and with the slowly
rising tide crept constantly closer to the pirates.
“Thinking they had won the day and that Maynard’s men were utterly done
for, Teach and his crew roared out boisterous songs and taunts and
prepared to leap onto the sloop’s decks and butcher the two remaining
men and any wounded who might be lying about. A moment later the two
vessels touched. With a terrible oath and a savage yell, Blackbeard
sprang through the smoke to the sloop’s decks with his shouting crew at
his heels, and with swirling, gleaming cutlasses they rushed towards
Maynard and his helmsman. Then, up from their hiding place in the hold,
poured the sloop’s crew, and instantly the battle raged fast and
furiously. The pirates, surprised, gave back a bit, the lieutenant’s
men fought like furies, and back and forth across the bloody decks the
battle surged. Teach had singled out Maynard and, whipping out pistols,
both fired at the same instant. Blackbeard’s shot missed, but the
bullet from the lieutenant’s pistol found its mark in the pirate’s
face. With blood streaming from the wound and dripping from the braided
ends of his long beard, eyes blazing with fury, and yelling with anger
and pain, the pirate threw aside his useless pistol and leaped at the
lieutenant with swinging cutlass. But Maynard was a splendid swordsman.
As Blackbeard, cursing and shouting that he would hack the other’s
heart from his body, leaped forward, the officer’s sword met his, steel
clanged on steel, and the pirate found himself balked, held off, driven
back.
“It was a terrible duel,—the struggle of enormous brute strength
against skill,—and with terrific slashing blows and savage lunges
Blackbeard strove to break down the other’s guard, to disarm him or to
snap his blade. Here and there across the decks they fought and swayed
and panted, stumbling over dead and wounded men, slipping in pools of
blood, bumping into fighting knots of pirates and seamen. Both were
bleeding from a dozen wounds, both were near exhaustion, both were
spent, and both knew that it was but a question of moments ere one
would fall. And then, with a tremendous blow, Blackbeard brought his
heavy cutlass swinging down, the lighter blade of the officer’s snapped
at the hilt, and with a blood-curdling, triumphant yell the pirate
swung his cutlass up, whirled it about his head and aimed a
death-dealing blow at Maynard’s head. Quick as a flash the lieutenant
leaped aside, the stroke fell short, and Maynard escaped with the loss
of three fingers lopped off by that terrible blow.
“Before the pirate could raise his weapon again one of Maynard’s men
had leaped forward, his cutlass fell upon the back of Blackbeard’s
neck, almost severing the head from the body, and with a crimson
fountain spouting from the awful gash the pirate turned and cut his
assailant to the chin with a single blow. But despite his ghastly wound
the pirate chieftain was still standing, still defiant, still fighting.
All about, the decks were a shambles, his men were lying dead and
wounded, half a dozen of Maynard’s men were attacking him. Kicking off
his shoes to get a better foot-hold on the bloody deck, bellowing like
a maddened bull, blood streaming from over twenty-five wounds, with his
half-severed head lolling hideously upon his chest, but still defiant,
Blackbeard backed against the bulwarks and slashed and lunged, keeping
his enemies at bay until, as his life blood poured over his chest and
beard and trickled to the decks, his muscles weakened and his blows
grew less. Then, suddenly whipping a pistol from his belt, he made one
last desperate effort to shoot down the lieutenant. But before he could
press the trigger, before a man could strike the weapon up, his knees
sagged, his eyelids closed, and with a gurgling, awful moan he sank
lifeless to the deck.
“Few of the pirates remained alive, none were unwounded. Those who had
the strength leaped overboard, attempting to escape, but all were
captured; Blackbeard and his men were wiped out and the only member of
the pirates who had escaped was the sailing master, Israel Hands.
Nursing the bullet wound in his knee, which had been so playfully
inflicted by Blackbeard, he was safe ashore. Doubtless he most heartily
gave thanks for his dead captain’s form of humor and blessed the wound
that gave him a stiff leg for life.
“Maynard’s losses, too, were tremendous; many of his men had been
killed, scarcely one had escaped without serious wounds, but they
forgot their hurts, for they were triumphant. Thirteen pirate prisoners
were safe in irons in the sloop’s hold, the grewsome, awful head of the
redoubtable Blackbeard was lashed to the tip of the bowsprit, and,
hoisting sail, Maynard set forth for Bath Town, North Carolina, to
claim his well-earned reward and exhibit his bloody trophy. There the
thirteen prisoners were promptly hanged, Teach’s black-whiskered,
blood-clotted head, with the burnt-out fuses still in the tangled hair,
was placed in the market square, and the promised rewards were duly
paid to the courageous lieutenant and his daring men.”
“Jiminy!” exclaimed Fred. “That must have been some fight! Was that the
end of the pirates?”
“Practically,” replied Mr. Bickford. “Teach was the last pirate of
note. There were a few who still lurked in the Caribbean, but the
Atlantic coasts and the West Indies were getting too hot for them. Such
rascals, as Low, England, Roberts and Avery, transferred their
activities to more out-of-the-way spots, to Africa, Madagascar and the
Indian Ocean, and the last of the West Indian pirates were dispersed
and destroyed by Lieutenant, afterwards Commodore, Porter, who also
wiped out the Tripolitan pirates.”
“But how about Lafitte and his pirates?” asked Jack. “I thought they
lived until the time of the war of 1812 and helped General Jackson at
the battle of New Orleans.”
“So they did,” replied his father. “But Lafitte and his brother were
not really pirates. That is, no real acts of piracy were ever proved
against them, although they were denounced as such. In reality the
Lafittes were smugglers, but their career was so picturesque and
romantic that their story may be quite fittingly included in that of
the buccaneers and pirates.
“The two brothers, Jean and Pierre Lafitte, were born in France, and
came to New Orleans in the spring of 1809. They were brilliant, witty,
well educated, attractive men, and spoke several languages fluently.
The two started a blacksmith shop, which they operated by slaves, and
from the first the brothers appeared to have plenty of money. At that
time there was a strip of territory, stretching for a distance of about
sixty miles from the mouth of the Mississippi to Bayou Lafourche, which
was in almost undisputed possession of a colony of smuggler-pirates
known as the ‘Baratarians,’ from the fact that their headquarters were
on the Bay of Barataria, a body of water with a narrow opening
protected from the Gulf by a low, narrow island about six miles long
known as Grande-Terre.
“Some of these Baratarians possessed letters of marque from France, as
well as from the Republic of New Grenada (now Colombia), authorizing
them to prey upon Spanish shipping, but like the pirates of old they
had the reputation of lacking discrimination and of attacking any
vessel that they could overpower. Whatever the truth of their piratical
tendencies may have been, there was no question that they were
smugglers on a large scale, and not long after the Lafittes arrived in
Louisiana they joined their lot with these Baratarians.
“Jean occupied a position as a sort of agent and banker for the
smugglers, but he was far too clever and ambitious to remain long in
such a subordinate capacity, and soon was the head and brains of the
whole organization. To this state he won both by superior intelligence
and force of arms, for both Lafittes were adept swordsmen and expert
pistol shots, and when a fellow called Grambo, a burly leader among the
Baratarians, had the temerity to question Jean Lafitte’s leadership the
latter promptly whipped out a pistol and shot him through the heart.
“Hitherto the Baratarians had been divided into factions, and there
were constant dissensions and quarrels among them, but under Lafitte’s
management all were united, and so daring and brazenly did they carry
on their operations that within three years from the time the Lafitte
brothers stepped ashore at New Orleans there was more commerce entering
and leaving Barataria Bay than the port of New Orleans. Great
warehouses rose above the low sand dunes of Grande-Terre; cargoes of
slaves were weekly auctioned in the big slave market; from far and near
merchants and dealers flocked to the smugglers’ stronghold to barter
and trade, and it was evidently but a question of time before the
Lafittes and their Baratarian friends would control all the import
trade of the Mississippi Valley.
“Becoming alarmed at the magnitude of operations, the federal
government decided to break up the smugglers, and revenue cutters were
dispatched to the bay. But the Baratarians’ spies were vigilant, word
of the raid was brought, and the discomfited government officers
returned empty-handed, without having accomplished anything worth
while. Indeed, it was a common rumor in New Orleans that even the
United States officials were in league with the Lafittes, and the
wealthy, charming Frenchmen came and went, spent their money freely in
New Orleans, drove about in splendid carriages and with magnificent
horses, maintained expensive establishments, and snapped their slender,
jeweled fingers at the authorities.
“It was the greatest, most flagrant smuggling enterprise ever carried
on in the history of the world, and at last Governor Claiborne of
Louisiana decided to take drastic measures to suppress it. The
penalties of the law for smuggling were evidently not severe enough to
meet the case, and so, in 1813, the governor issued a proclamation in
which he declared the Baratarians pirates, warned the citizens not to
deal with them, and threatened to hang every one he could lay hands on.
“But His Excellency might have saved his breath and his paper. Twirling
gold-headed canes, decked in valuable jewels, attired in the most
expensive and beautifully tailored clothes, the Lafitte brothers
strolled nonchalantly through the streets and, surrounded by admirers,
read with interest and amusement the official placards in which they
were denounced as pirates. Then, to add insult to injury, they tacked
up posters, advertising a slave auction to be held at Barataria,
alongside the irate governor’s proclamations!
“Beside himself with anger, but realizing he was unable to cope
single-handed with the situation; Governor Claiborne issued a
supplementary proclamation offering five hundred dollars reward for the
apprehension of either of the Lafitte brothers. Only one man, as far as
known, attempted to earn the reward, and instead of the five hundred
dollars he received a bullet through the lungs which promptly relieved
him of all desire or necessity for money or anything else of a worldly
nature.
“The governor was desperate. No one would raise a finger against the
so-called ‘pirates,’ they openly defied the state, and he asked the
Legislature for an appropriation to raise a company of volunteers to
attack the stronghold of the Lafittes. Unfortunately the increase of
the smugglers’ business had so depleted the state treasury that there
were no funds available; but at last the governor succeeded in
obtaining an indictment for piracy against the two Lafittes and the
Baratarian leaders. Armed with this, the governor managed to have
Pierre arrested.
“But the executive had forgotten that money talks. For a fee of $20,000
each, Jean Lafitte retained the two most prominent lawyers in the
state, Edward Livingston and John R. Grymes, the latter resigning as
District Attorney to defend the Lafittes. During the trial his
successor taunted him with this and as a result Grymes challenged him
and shot him through the hip, crippling him for life.
“There was no question of how the trial would result. Pierre was freed,
Jean was cleared and the indictment against him dismissed and the
triumphant lawyers were invited by the brothers to visit their
headquarters at Barataria and collect their fees. Livingston, a New
Yorker, declined, but Grymes, who was a Virginian, accepted, and the
tale is still told in New Orleans of the princely entertainment, the
magnificent feast and the whole-souled hospitality accorded the
attorney by the Lafittes and their outlaw friends. Finally he was sent
back to New Orleans in an almost regally appointed yawl laden with
boxes containing the two lawyers’ fees in Spanish doubloons and pieces
of eight.
“Meanwhile the war between England and the United States had been going
on for nearly two years. It had been felt but little on the shores of
the Gulf, however, and the Baratarians, and even the more law-abiding
citizens, scarcely knew that there was a conflict. But in September,
1814, the smuggler-pirate colony was started by the sudden appearance
of an armed British brig off their island haunt. Hastily ordering out
his private cutter, Jean Lafitte boarded the war vessel, invited the
officers ashore and feasted them right royally. Then, as the merry
party sat back and puffed at their fine Havanas the smuggler chieftain
was presented with a letter from the British commandant at Pensacola.
It was an offer of a high commission in the British army and a fee of
$30,000, provided Lafitte would use his forces in assisting the British
in their proposed invasion of Louisiana.
“The Frenchman hesitated, replied that it would take him some time to
decide upon such an important matter and asked for ten days in which to
consider it. This was willingly granted, the officers were escorted
back to their ship and, well satisfied with their progress, they
prepared to await Lafitte’s reply, which they felt convinced would be
favorable. But even before they had stepped upon their ship’s decks a
messenger had been despatched post-haste by Lafitte to the Louisiana
Legislature. Not only did the messenger carry a complete account of the
British plans of invasion as divulged by the officers, but he also
carried the letter from the English commandant and a letter from
Lafitte offering the services of himself and his men in the defense of
the state.
“Instantly Governor Claiborne called a council of the army, navy and
militia officers and showed them Lafitte’s communication. The officials
could not believe that Lafitte—outlaw and smuggler and so-called
pirate—could possess any sentiments of patriotism, and one and all
declared that, in their opinions, the papers were forgeries and that
Lafitte had submitted them in order to prevent the authorities from
interfering with his plans.
“As a result, an expedition was organized, and, under command of
Commodore Patterson and Colonel Ross, set out to attack the
Baratarians. Supposing, as was natural, that the approaching forces had
been sent to combine with them against the British, the smugglers were
taken completely by surprise; many were killed and captured and their
headquarters were destroyed. Only the two Lafittes and a few followers
escaped and a vast quantity of loot was seized by the victorious
troops. Among this booty was found the jewelry of a Creole lady who had
left New Orleans several years before and had never been heard from,
and this circumstantial evidence of piracy was the sole and only thing
ever produced to prove that the Lafittes or the Baratarians could be
considered pirates. Upon that one incident all the tales of piracy by
the Lafittes have been built up and, like Captain Kidd’s, their fame
has grown from nothing. Despite the scurvy treatment accorded Lafitte
by the governor, he still remained true to his adopted country and
instead of joining the British—and he could scarcely have been blamed
if he had—he remained with his brother and the other fugitives in
hiding until General Andrew Jackson arrived to take supreme command at
New Orleans. Then, risking life and liberty, he came forth again,
offered his services and those of his men to the nation and was
promptly accepted. General Jackson placed Lafitte in command of the
redoubts along the river with a part of his men and detailed the others
to the battery at New Orleans. Throughout that memorable battle the
Baratarians and the Lafittes fought with such furious and whole-hearted
bravery that they were lauded in the general orders issued after the
victory, and at General Jackson’s suggestion all were granted full
pardons.
“After the battle, a great ball was given by the army and naval
officers and great was the rejoicing, and at this brilliant function
Jean Lafitte appeared for the last time. Among the honored guests was
General Coffee, and the pompous General and the dandy Frenchman were
brought together for an introduction. At first, as the orderly
mentioned Lafitte’s name, the General hesitated and glanced
superciliously over the smiling stranger. Lafitte stepped forward, drew
himself up proudly and announced: ‘Lafitte, the pirate.’ Instantly the
General thrust out his hand and grasped the other’s cordially.
“Never again were the Lafittes seen in New Orleans or their old haunts.
Rumors came from time to time, wild tales were told of their doings,
but there was little to bear them out. It was, however, generally
accepted as a fact beyond dispute that they went to an island near
Galveston, secured commissions as privateers from a South American
Republic and preyed upon Spanish shipping to their own considerable
profit.
“About that time, too, a United States cruiser was attacked by unknown
corsairs in the Gulf and looted of an enormous sum in bullion and this
was laid to the Lafittes. As a result, the Galveston settlement was
attacked and destroyed, but no signs of the famous Lafittes were found.
Perhaps they had never been there, perhaps they managed to escape. They
completely disappeared and where they passed the remainder of their
lives, where they died has never been discovered. Once it was reported,
that they had sailed to the Argentine and had entered the service of
the Buenos Ayres government. Again it was stated that they had
established a pirate lair in Yucatan. There were stories of their
having settled on Ruatan Island off Honduras, where they conducted
wrecking and piratical undertakings, but definite news, actual proofs,
were never forthcoming.
“We can scarcely believe that men who had proved their patriotism and
their valor, men who had shown their honor and their loyalty as had the
Lafittes, would countenance an attack upon a United States ship. It
does not seem like them to have degenerated into rascally cut-throats
and wreckers. To my mind, it is far more probable that they returned to
their beloved France or settled down under new names in some quiet
tropical land and there passed the remainder of their lives like the
accomplished gentlemen they were. No one will ever know. We can only
surmise. But with the passing of these romantic, picturesque brothers
went the last of the more famous pirates. And—as I said before—there
was nothing to prove that they were pirates after all.”
“Golly, I never knew the buccaneers and pirates were so interesting,”
declared Fred, as Mr. Bickford ceased speaking. “I always loved to read
stories about them, but they’re a lot more interesting than the
stories.”
“Yes,” agreed his uncle. “It’s a splendid example of the truth of the
time-worn saying that ‘truth is stranger than fiction.’ And did you
ever stop to think, boys, that if it hadn’t been for the buccaneers
there might not—probably would not—have been any United States?”
“Why, no!” cried Jack.
“How could that be?” demanded Fred.
“Very few people realize that we owe the buccaneers a tremendous debt
of gratitude or that they played a most important part in the history
of America. They may have been ruthless, cruel, bloodthirsty,
unprincipled cut-throats, but if it had not been for the buccaneers the
chances are that what is now the United States would have been a colony
of Spain or a Spanish-American republic. It was very largely owing to
the buccaneers that England retained her supremacy in the West Indies.
She was far too busy with wars at home to look after her American
possessions; Spain controlled South and Central America, Florida and
the Southwest, and her sea power was tremendous. But the buccaneers
kept the Dons in check, they compelled Spain to devote all her energies
and her warships to protecting her cities and her plate ships, and,
with the sea rovers everywhere in the Caribbean, the Dons could not
expand their holdings and were hard put to it to hold what they had. It
is no exaggeration to say that the buccaneers had a greater effect on
maintaining England’s hold in America than all the British Crown’s
forces. And the British navy was not at all blind to the services of
the buccaneers. When the English attacked Jamaica and wrested it from
Spain the buccaneers took a most important part and in many another sea
battle, and land attack as well, the British navy and army were mighty
glad of the buccaneers’ help. Whatever their sins and their misdeeds
may have been, we cannot overlook the fact that they had a most
important place in the scheme of things, that they helped make history
and that they are entitled to a big niche in the hall of fame of
pioneers, colonizers and fighters of America. And there is no need to
fear that they will ever be forgotten. As long as there is red blood in
the veins of men and boys; as long as human beings have pulses that
will quicken to tales of heroism and bravery and mighty deeds, the
swashbuckling, daredevil, picturesque buccaneers, and even the pirates
who came after, will live on. The names of kings and queens may be
forgotten. Famous admirals and generals may have passed into oblivion.
Great battles and tremendous victories, treaties of peace and
declarations of war; the conquests of countries; the subjugation of
kingdoms may fade from memory, and yet, every schoolboy is familiar
with the names of Morgan, L’Ollonois, Montbars, Hawkins and the other
chieftains of the buccaneers. They were characters who can never die.”
“Gee, I’m kind of sorry they have all gone,” declared Jack, as his
father ceased speaking. “It would be great to see a real buccaneer or a
real pirate ship.”
Mr. Bickford smiled. “I’m afraid you’ll never see a buccaneer,” he
said. “But you might see a pirate ship.”
“Oh, do you really mean there are any pirates’ ships left?” cried Fred.
“I can’t say, positively,” replied his uncle. “But there was one a very
short time ago. She was doing duty as a packet between the Virgin
Islands and her name was the Vigilant. She was a trim, speedy little
schooner—the typical ‘low black craft with rakish masts’ of story and
fiction and had had a most adventurous and romantic career. She was
built at Baltimore and was originally intended as a privateer for use
in the Revolution. But the war was over before she was launched and she
served as a smuggler, a slaver and a pirate, changing hands frequently.
At that time she was rigged as a topsail schooner and was called the
Nonesuch, and at one time she was even a man-of-war. That happened when
Denmark and Spain were at war and a Spanish cruiser was harassing
Danish commerce, always escaping by fleeing to waters too shoal for the
Danish war vessels. The Vigilant was pressed into service, disguised as
a merchantman, and lured the Spaniard on until at close quarters, when
she suddenly showed her real character in true pirate fashion, and,
throwing grappling irons, the armed crew of the schooner swarmed over
the Spaniard’s side, killed the captain and officers, overpowered the
crew and captured the ship. It was the last engagement of the gallant
little schooner—a fitting end to her career—and ever since she has done
duty as an honest merchantman. I have seen her many times, have even
sailed on her, and, for all I know to the contrary, she may still be
plowing the blue Caribbean in the haunts of the buccaneers as staunch,
fast and seaworthy as when the Jolly Roger flew from many a masthead.”
THE END