“Thus coming close under Peralta’s side, we gave him a full volley of shot, and expected to have the like return from him again; but on a sudden we saw his men blown up that were abaft the mast, some of them falling on the deck and others into the sea. This disaster was soon perceived by their valiant captain Peralta; but he leaped overboard, and, in spite of all our shot got several of them back into the ship again, though he was much burnt in both his hands himself. But as one misfortune seldom cometh alone, meanwhile he was recovering these men to reinforce his ship withal and renew the fight, another jar of powder took fire forward, and blew up several others upon the forecastle. Among this smoke, and under the opportunity thereof, Captain Sawkins laid them on board, and took the ship.”

Soon after they were taken the narrator went on board Captain Peralta’s vessel to see what condition they were in, and a miserable sight it was; for there was not a man that was not either killed, desperately wounded, or horribly burnt with powder. Their dark skins were frequently turned white, the powder having torn it from their flesh and bones. On the admiral’s ship there were but twenty-five men alive out of eighty-six. Of these twenty-five men only eight were able to bear arms, all the rest being desperately wounded and by their wounds totally disabled to make any resistance, or defend themselves. Their blood ran down the decks in whole streams, and scarce one place in the ship was found that was free from blood.

Having surveyed their own loss, they found eighteen of their men had been killed in the fight, and twenty-two wounded. The three captains against whom they had fought had been esteemed by the Spaniards the bravest in all the “South Seas”; neither was their reputation undeserved, as may easily be inferred from the narrative given of the engagement. As the third ship was running away from the fight, she met with two more coming out to their assistance; but gave them so little encouragement that they turned back and dared not engage the pirates. The fight began about half an hour after sunrise, and by noon the battle was finished. Captain Peralta, while he was their prisoner, would often break out into admiration of their valour, and say that surely “Englishmen were the most valiant men in the whole world, who endeavoured always to fight openly, whilst all other nations invented all the ways imaginable to barricade themselves, and fight as close as they could.”

Other vessels were shortly afterwards taken. But in spite of their successes, there was dissatisfaction among some of the pirates, and Captain Coxon was openly branded as a coward by some of them, for the small part he had taken in the engagement. He immediately deserted with seventy of the men. Soon afterwards other pirates, however, joined the forces.

Eight days after their arrival at Tavoga (now called Toboga), they took a ship that was coming from Truxillo, and bound for Panama. In this vessel they found two thousand jars of wine, fifty jars of gunpowder, and fifty-one thousand pieces of eight. This money had been sent from that city to pay the soldiers belonging to the garrison of Panama. From the prize they had information that there was another ship coming from Lima with one hundred thousand pieces of eight more, which vessel was to sail ten or twelve days after them, and which, they said, could not be long before she arrived at Panama. Within two days after this intelligence they took another ship laden with flour from Truxillo, and the men on this prize confirmed what the first had told them, and said that the rich vessel might be expected there in the space of eight or ten days.

Among the notorious pirates probably no one is better known in England than Captain Robert Kidd, whose trial and execution formed the subject of many once popular ballads. He commenced life in the king’s service, and had so far distinguished himself, that we find him in the first month of 1695 receiving a commission from His Majesty William III. to command a “private” man-of-war to “apprehend, seize, and take” certain American pirates. The privateer was actually fitted out at the expense of Lord Bellamont, at one time Governor of Barbadoes, and others, who knew the wealth that the pirates had acquired; and they obtained the king’s commission, partly with the view of keeping the men under better command, and also to give their enterprise some sort of sanction of legality. Kidd sailed for New York, where he engaged more men, increasing his officers and crew to a total of 150. Each man was to have one share in any division of spoil, while he reserved for himself and owners forty shares. This vessel was the Adventure galley, of thirty guns.

Not long after this he encountered a Moorish vessel, having for master a Dutch “schipper.” Kidd chased her under French colours, and hailed her in the same language. A Frenchman on board answered, when he was told, “you are the captain,” meaning, “you must be.” Kidd’s reason for this was that he held, in addition to his commission against pirates, one called a “commission of reprisal” against French vessels. At this time he seems to have been almost doubtful as to his course of action, for while he took the cargo of the last-named ship, he refused to attack a Dutch vessel which he met some time afterwards. In this case there was almost a mutiny on board, a majority being in favour of attack. Many threatened even to man a boat and seize her, which Kidd prevented by swearing that if they did they would never come on board his ship again. His gunner shortly afterwards reproached him with this matter, and said that he had ruined them all. Kidd, whose career might have ended much sooner than it did, if the mutinous ones had been so disposed, was equal to the emergency. Politely calling his gunner “a dog,” he raised a bucket and broke it over the unfortunate man’s skull, who died a day after. A Portuguese prize of tolerable value, containing Indian goods, jars of butter, bags of rice, wax, &c., was taken shortly afterwards, and this put the crew in better humour, which was vastly increased when he fell in with the Quieda Merchant, a richly-laden Moorish ship of 400 tons, having for master an Englishman named Wright. Kidd chased her under French colours, and took her without a struggle. There were hardly any Europeans on board, but there were a number of Armenian merchants. The pirate at first proposed that they should pay a ransom, and that he would let them depart in peace. They offered a sum something under £3,000, at which he laughed, and seized the vessel, selling the cargo at various points, where he also left the crew. When the division of the spoil was made, each man netted about £200, while his forty shares amounted to a total of £8,000. In spite of these enormous gains he was not above cheating some poor natives shortly afterwards, who up to that time had been accustomed to look upon even pirates as fair dealers in petty matters.

At Amboyna, where he touched soon afterwards, he learnt that his proceedings were understood in England, and that he had been declared a pirate. The fact was that questions had been asked in Parliament regarding the commission which had been given to him, and those who had fitted out the vessel. The discussion seemed to Lord Bellamont to bear hardly on him, and after Kidd’s execution, he published a pamphlet defending his course. But to stop the piracy so common in those days, a free pardon was offered to those pirates who had been engaged in the Eastern African waters who should surrender their persons any time prior to the 30th April, 1699. Kidd and Avery, the latter of whom we shall hereafter meet, were excepted distinctly in the proclamation. When Kidd left Amboyna he most certainly did not know this fact, or he would not have rushed into the lion’s jaw. Trusting to his money, and his influence with Lord Bellamont, he sailed for New York, where on arrival he was arrested with other of his companions, and sent to England for trial.

A solemn session of Admiralty was that which met at the Old Bailey, in May, 1701, when Captain Kidd and nine others were arraigned for piracy and robbery on the high seas. All were found guilty except three, who were proved to have been apprentices. Kidd was also tried for the murder of his gunner, and found guilty. The men pleaded variously, and two of them had undoubtedly surrendered themselves within the time limited by the proclamation. Colonel Bass, the Governor of West Jersey (now the state of New Jersey, adjoining that of New York), corroborated this statement. It was shown that they had not surrendered to a commission of four specially sent over for the purpose, and they were condemned to die. This was, as far as the writer can judge, a hard case. Another seaman, Darby Mullins, said in his defence that he served under the king’s commission, and had no right to disobey any commands of his superior officer; that, in fact, the men were never allowed to question his authority, because it would destroy all discipline; and that even if unlawful acts were committed, the officers were the persons to answer it, not the men. He was answered that serving as he did only entitled him to do that which was lawful, not that which was unlawful. He replied that the case of a seaman must be bad indeed, if he were punished in both cases, for obeying and for not obeying his officers, and that if he were allowed to dispute his superior’s orders, there would be no such thing as command on the high seas. This ingenious defence availed him nothing; he had taken a share of the plunder, and had mutinied, showing no regard to the commission; and further, had acted in accordance with the customs of pirates and freebooters. The jury brought him in guilty with the rest.

Avery sailed for Madagascar, where he was joined by two sloops, the sailors on board which were themselves well inclined to his enterprise, having just before run away with the vessels from the East Indies. They sailed in company, and off the mouth of the Indus the man at the masthead espied a sail, and they gave chase. She was evidently a fine tall vessel, possibly an East Indiaman. She proved something better, for, when they fired a shot at her, she hoisted Mogul colours, and appeared ready for a fight. The sloops first attacked, with Avery for a support. The men of the sloops attacked on either quarter, and boarded her; she immediately afterwards struck her colours. She was one of the Great Mogul’s own ships, having on board many distinguished persons of his own court, including one of his daughters, going on a pilgrimage to the Holy City, Mecca. They were carrying with them rich offerings to present at the shrine of Mahomet. They were travelling in full Eastern magnificence, with retinues and slaves, immense sums of money, jewellery, and plate. The spoil which they obtained was immense, and after rifling the ship of everything valuable, the pirates allowed her to depart. The news soon reached the Great Mogul, and he was so enraged that he threatened to extirpate the English on the Indian coast. The East India Company had enough to do to pacify him, and only succeeded in doing so by promising to use every endeavour to punish the pirates. Avery’s name and fame soon after reached Europe, and, as might have been expected, all kinds of wild fables were circulated concerning him.

He found, however, that it was as difficult to dispose of his diamonds in Ireland, without rendering himself suspected, as in Boston. It, therefore, occurred to him that Bristol might be a likely place to suit his purpose, and he accordingly proceeded to Devonshire, having previously made arrangements to meet one of his friends at Bideford. The so-called friend introduced him to others, and the latter persuaded him that the safest plan would be to place his effects in the hands of some wealthy merchants who would make no inquiry as to how he came by them. One of these persons informed him that he knew merchants who would not bother him with inquiries, and Avery, falling easily into the trap, assented to this proposal. Accordingly the merchants who had been named paid him a visit at Bideford, where, after protestations of honour and integrity on their part, he delivered his diamonds and gold to them. After giving him a little money for his immediate support, they departed.

Avery went again to Ireland, and from thence solicited the merchants very strongly, but to no purpose, so that he was reduced to utter beggary. Next we find him on board a trading vessel working his passage over to Plymouth, from whence he travelled on foot to Bideford. He had been there but a few days when he fell sick, and died, “not being worth as much money as would buy him a coffin.” Such was the end of a man who had, in his brief career, astonished and alarmed not merely the Great Mogul of all the Indies, and the great East India Company, but had become a hero of romance in Europe.

And now to return to the unfortunate sloops. Their provisions were nearly exhausted, and although fish and fowl were readily obtainable at Madagascar, whither they returned, they had no salt to cure them for a long voyage. They therefore made an encampment on the coast, where they were joined by other piratical Englishmen who had selected the island as a permanent place of settlement. When the pirates first settled there many of the native princes were very friendly, and the former, having fire-arms, which in those days the latter had not, often joined in the inter-tribal wars, carrying terror wherever they went. Half a dozen pirates with a small native army would put a much larger number of the enemy to flight, and they were therefore great personages, and were almost worshipped.

By these means they became in a little time very formidable, and such prisoners as they took in war were employed in cultivating the ground, and the most beautiful of the women they married; nor were they contented with one wife, but often adopted the practice of polygamy. The natural result was, that they separated, each of them choosing a convenient place for himself, where he lived in princely style, surrounded by his family, slaves, and dependents. Nor was it long before jarring interests excited them to draw the sword against each other, and they appeared in the field of battle, at the head of their respective clans as it were. In these civil wars their number and strength were very soon greatly lessened.

A little later we find a remarkable pirate on the field of action. Captain Bartholomew Roberts seems at first to have been really averse to the line of life to which he afterwards took so kindly. When his commander, Captain Davis, a pirate, died, the crew, in solemn conclave, selected Roberts. He accepted the dignity, and told them that “since he had dipped his hands in muddy water, and must be a pirate, it was better being a commander than a private.” Very shortly afterwards he captured two vessels, the first Dutch and the second English. The crew of the latter joined him, and emptied and burned the vessel. On the Brazilian coast they were not successful, but among the West Indian Islands they encountered a fleet of forty-two sail of Portuguese ships, waiting for two men-of-war to convoy them. Roberts, with his one little vessel, determined to have one or more of them, and he sailed among the fleet, keeping the larger part of his men concealed. He steered his ship almost alongside one of them, hailed her, and ordered her master to come on board quietly, threatening to give no quarter if the least resistance were made, or even if a signal of distress were displayed. The Portuguese, perceiving a sudden flash of cutlasses on board the pirate ship—a coup de théâtre arranged by Roberts—submitted at once. The newly-fledged pirate saluted the captain courteously, and told him that he should go scot-free if he indicated which was the richest ship in the fleet. He gladly pointed to a large vessel, and, although very much superior in size and apparent strength to his own, made towards her, carrying with him the poor Portuguese captain, for reasons which will at once appear. Coming alongside, Roberts made his unwilling prisoner ask in Portuguese how Seignior Capitano did, and to invite him on board, as he had a matter of great importance to impart. He was answered in the affirmative, but Roberts perceiving an unusual movement on board, and expecting that they meant to give him a broadside, forestalled them by pouring in a shower of shot, and then grappled, boarded, and took her. She proved herself a rich prize, laden with tobacco, sugar, skins, and a goodly number of golden moidores. Roberts was not long in securing the better part of her cargo, and speedily sailed away.

After touching at various points, they sailed for Newfoundland, entering the harbour of Trepassi with the black flags flying, and drums and trumpets sounding. The original account says that there were twenty-two “ships” lying there, but it probably means large fishing boats. The men aboard abandoned them, and the pirates burnt or sunk them all, besides doing enormous damage ashore. Roberts here took a small Bristol vessel, which he fitted and manned for his own service. Shortly afterwards he destroyed ten French “ships” (probably meaning, as before, large fishing boats) on the banks of Newfoundland, and after that a number of prizes of more value. At Martinique it had been the custom of Dutch traders, when they approached the island, to hoist their jacks. Roberts knew the signal, and imitated it, and the poor people believing that a profitable market was at hand, vied with each other who should first row out to the ship. As they one by one approached he fired into and sunk them, determined to do them as much damage as possible. This was in retaliation; he had heard that some cruisers had been sent out to punish him.

But the end of this brute was at hand. One morning, soon after leaving Martinique, while he was at breakfast, he was informed that a man-of-war was at hand. He took little notice, and his men were undetermined whether she was a Portuguese ship or a French vessel. As she came nearer, she, however, hoisted English colours, and proved to be the Swallow, a man-of-war of no inconsiderable size. Roberts knew his danger, but determined to get clear, or die in the attempt. A man on board, who was a deserter from the Swallow, informed him that she sailed best upon the wind, and that the pirate-ship should, therefore, go before it. The resolution was made to pass close to the Swallow under all sail, and to receive her broadside before they returned a shot; if seriously injured, to run on the shore to which they were close; or, should both fail, to blow up together, and balk the enemy. The greater part of his men were at this time drunk, for they had captured a quantity of liquor not long before, and their brandy-courage was likely to prove of the Dutch order. Roberts was determined to die game, and dressed himself in his best uniform—a rich crimson damask waistcoat and breeches, and a red feather in his hat, a gold chain and diamond cross, two pairs of pistols in a silk sling hung over his shoulders, and his sword in hand. In short, he was just the typical kind of showy pirate of whom boys delight to read.

The Swallow approached, and poured in her fire; Roberts hoisted the black flag, and passed her with all sail. But for a fatal mistake he might have got clear away; but either by bad steering, or in not keeping his vessel before the wind, she again came up very near him. He was preparing for action, when a grape-shot struck him directly in the throat, and he fell back dead on the tackles of a gun. The man at the helm, one Stephenson, not at first thinking he was wounded, swore at him, and upbraided him as a coward; but, almost immediately afterwards, when he found that his captain was indeed dead, burst into tears, and wished himself dead. The pirate-ship almost immediately surrendered. His men threw his body overboard, with all his finery and arms on, as he had repeatedly ordered during his lifetime. Thus, at about forty years of age, perished a brave and daring, though utterly reckless and unprincipled, man, who, under better auspices, might have been of the greatest service to his country.

One of the most remarkable pirates of the century was Captain Misson, who commenced life in the French navy. When on leave at Rome he met one Caraccioli, a priest, who had imbibed some peculiar religious and social views, and who was afterwards, through his influence, admitted on board the man-of-war on which he was then serving. Both on several occasions showed a considerable amount of bravery. Caraccioli was a very ambitious man, and freely aired his peculiar ideas before both his friend Misson and the crew. His social views were of the communistic order; he believed that every man had as much right to that which would properly support him as to the air he breathed, and that wealth and poverty were both wrong, and that the world needed remodelling. It will be understood that he considered himself one of the men to do it, and was by no means strict in his regard for the rightful property of others. In a word, he meant to reform as much of the world as possible by means of piracy!

And strangest of all to tell, the pirate kept very closely to his creed. If he took a small vessel, he would often let it go, after taking from the crew their ammunition, or some comparatively trifling matters; he was generous with his prisoners, and always spared life, except in open fighting. Compared with some of the pirates whose lives have been recorded in these pages he was an angel of light. Perhaps nothing will better exemplify this than his conduct after taking a large Dutch ship, the Nieuwstadt, which had on board seventeen slaves and some gold-dust. He ordered them to be clothed, and told his men that trading in those of our own species could never be right. He ordered them to be divided among the messes, that they might sooner learn the French language. The Dutch prisoners soon developed their latent tendencies for hard swearing and drinking; and Misson found that his own men were becoming demoralised. He addressed them all on board, and gave them a most serious lecture on the sin of swearing.