Now, the big question before the house was to dispose of the cargo of
the _Quedagh Merchant_ to the best profit. To get the officers of the
ship and the clamant Armenians out of the way Kidd put them ashore,
supposing that that was the last he would see of them. In this he was
mistaken.
He stood away in the general direction of Madagascar. But on the way
there he touched at one port and another where he entered into vigorous
bargaining. He had in view the turning of the _Quedagh Merchant’s_
cargo into coin, and seems to have managed this quite adroitly. There
being no telegraphs or cables the outraged charterers could not, of
course, catch up with him. Probably he was suspected but nobody cared
very much; there the goods were and sellers who were sharp but not too
close.
Their merchanting was interrupted long enough to pick up a Portuguese
who got in their way, and once again there was a surplus of butter
aboard. At that the pick-up brought them some five hundred pounds,--not
too miserable a sum in those days or, for that matter, in any day.
Thus keeping an eye to business in both directions, trade and theft,
they beat down to Madagascar, probably their principal market.
In this place Kidd was to encounter a veritable pirate, the very chap
for whom the Admiralty had commissioned him to look. The story of this
contact is quaint.
When the _Quedagh Merchant_ dropped anchor in the channel, a canoe was
seen putting out from the shore, manned by white men. As Kidd, leaning
over the side, watched this craft paddling swiftly over the blue,
languid waters, he thought some of the faces in it were not altogether
unfamiliar. He became certain of this when a motley gang tumbled up the
rope ladder and stood on the deck before him, awkwardly twisting their
hats in their hands, and saluting by a drag at their long, unkempt
forelocks. Why, to be sure, they were New Yorkers, old salts known to
Kidd in prior and more respectable years. Well, what did they want?
“Cap’n,” began the spokesman, reluctantly stepping a little forward
from his fellows, “Cap’n, how d’ye do, sir? You remember us, Cap’n,
don’t ye; all good sailor-men from New York? Some of us fought the
French under ye, Cap’n, sir, in the West Indies.”
Kidd nodded.
“Well?”
There was a heavy silence. The newcomers looked around them, and
somehow took a little heart from a something in the attitudes and
manner of the men under their old acquaintance’s command. Things just
didn’t look like a reputable king’s ship on the king’s business.
“You be come to hang us all, Cap’n,” blurted the speaker. “We’ve heered
you got the king’s commission to take pirates. Maybe we’ve fell into
a loose step or two, but we aren’t regular robbers. Cap’n, give us a
chance, and we’ll uncover a nest of the kind you’re alooking for.”
He pointed a long finger toward the wooded shore.
“See that ship, Cap’n? That’s the _Resolution_, Culliford, skipper, and
one o’ the hardest ships in these parts.”
Kidd turned and gave a long look at the rakish _Resolution_, from this
distance even, a vessel evidently of speed and unlawful purpose.
“I’ll go back with you,” declared Kidd, briskly.
They all returned to the canoe and set off for the _Resolution_.
The delegation must have been astonished at the audacity of Kidd’s
returning with them to a known pirate, with a commission in his pocket
to hang the crew of the _Resolution_ if necessary, and returning at
that with absolutely no protection. They had always known this man for
a queer one.
Just as coolly as if he were mounting his own proper ship, Kidd stepped
on to the decks of the _Resolution_. The rowers joined their mates in
the waist of the vessel and pointed with thick thumbs as Kidd ascended
to the quarter-deck, where Captain Culliford, as much puzzled as any
one, shuffled forward in his slippers to do the honors. All about went
the whisper that the king’s man, with power of death, had come amid
them.
Kidd and Culliford shook hands and presently sat down together under a
sail stretched as an awning against the beating sun. All hands breathed
just a wee bit easier. Pretty soon they heard Culliford crying to his
negro servant for the materials of “Bomboo.” The strain slackened
noticeably. Their captain was a match for the king’s man. If they had
got to “Bomboo” things might yet be well.
Taking the sugar and limes and dark thick bottle the servant had
brought to him, Culliford himself, as a gracious host, prepared the
drinks. The crew from the forecastle and waist watched until both the
august noses were buried in the mugs and then knew that all would be
well.
All was, indeed, very well. Up there on the quarter-deck the two
skippers were laughing loudly. Said Kidd, as the Bomboo moved within
him:
“Harm you, Culliford! Why, man, I’d see my soul fry in ---- before I’d
harm you.”
We have said the captain was a great hand at picture words--he
could use them even in a sociable way. One thing led to another,
the cordiality increased, and when at length Kidd walked a little
jiggingly to the canoe he was laden with a very considerable gift of
silks from the treasure chest of the _Resolution_. He sent back the
canoe with an equal present of shirting stuff, and more, much more than
that in view of his commission, the next day he supplied Culliford with
two guns.
Now, that was the extreme of disloyalty. Not only not to apprehend the
piratical Culliford--that was inexcusable--but actually to make him
more efficient in his plundering work was simply intolerable. If by
some clairvoyance, his Britannic Majesty’s Admiralty could have seen
this horrid transaction, the very building itself must have tremored.
It may be that Kidd here was acting according to a policy to which
the logic of circumstances had compelled him. As soon as the canoe
from the _Resolution_ came to him, he discovered that his arrival had
been a considerable shock to the sailing community of Madagascar.
Gossip flies about a port as quickly as about a street. Two things,
therefore, presented themselves for his choice; he must either engage
the pirates in action or reassure them by companioning with them.
Madagascar was to be the last big chance to clean up the balance of the
_Quedagh Merchant’s_ cargo, the final market. As a king’s man he could
not remain there indefinitely without expecting to be attacked by a
combination of lawless men, who saw in him only the king’s authority
and punitive power. Whether this thought particularly directed him
or not, his visit to Culliford, one of the leading pirate commanders
there, was undoubtedly in the way of appeasement, and not the mere
fraternizing of colleagues.
This situation being smoothed out, Kidd went seriously to work to sell
his wares. According to the chronology of the record, this could not
have taken a very great while.
And now the day for which they all had longed came. Outside of the
cabin which Kidd, commander-like, always reserved to himself, a long
queue was formed that ended in a jostling knot beneath the poop. Pay
day had come, and mirth bubbled without restraint.
On the cabin table were piled over one hundred heaps of coin. Stowed
away in a locker were the forty shares for the ship. Kidd stood at the
table, a great pistol lying suggestively at hand in case of too much
excitement, and by the door his personal servant, Richard Barlicorn,
kept a kind of order.
One by one the crew came in and each swept into his hat the share
allotted him, and with a grin and a duck of the head hastened out to
the sunshine, to watch with gleaming eyes the enchanting sparkle of the
greatest fortune that had ever come to him in the hard and sorrowful
farming of the sea.
Everything was square and above board. Kidd had kept his florid
promise to ballast the ship with gold and silver, and the workman had
received his agreed hire.
It must have been a great day for Bomboo.