We come now to another historical pirate, who, both in America and England, will long be remembered for his very interesting exploits. Following the modern tendency of endeavouring to whitewash notorious criminals of a bygone age, a recent writer has sought to dismiss the idea that Kidd was to be numbered among the pirates. I admit that at one time this man was an honest seaman, and that force of circumstances caused his career to become completely altered. But a pirate he certainly became, and no amount of juggling with facts can alter this.

The story of his life is as follows: He was a Scotsman who was born in Greenock, which has given to the world so many fine seamen in different generations, and so many handsome new ships both of wood and of steel. Sailing ships and steam-propelled liners have been built here during the past two hundred years by the score. After a while we find Kidd in North America. He became a resident of New York, and in 1691 married a widow. He became a prosperous shipmaster sailing out of New York, and they say that in his house in Liberty Street was the first Turkey carpet ever seen in New York. He was a man well-known to the local merchants, and for a time had command of a privateer cruising against the French in West Indian waters. This was the period during which William III. was at war with our French neighbours.

In the year 1695 Kidd had crossed to England and was in London, having command of the brigantine Antigoa, of New York. Now about this time the King had appointed the Earl of Bellomont to be governor of New England and New York. And the latter was especially instructed to suppress the prevailing piracy which was causing so much distress along the coast. Lord Bellomont, who had been governor of Barbadoes, suggested that Kidd should be entrusted with a man-of-war, as he was a most suitable person to send against these sea-rovers, knowing as he did every inch of the coast and the favourite hiding-places of the pirates. But the Admiralty did not esteem it suitable for Kidd to have a government ship under him, and there the matter ended. But Bellomont was one of those far-sighted men who ever had an eye for the main chance. He and his friends were well aware of the enormous amount of money which these pirates accumulated, and since the Admiralty would not give him a frigate, he resolved to form a small syndicate among his friends and fit out a private ship. He decided to appoint Kidd as captain. The latter was not anxious to accept this appointment, but Bellomont pointed out that if he did not, Kidd’s own vessel would be detained in the Thames; so at last he consented.

In order to give the project a certain amount of status and in order to be able to enforce greater discipline over the crew, a King’s commission was obtained for Kidd, authorising him “to apprehend, seize, and take into your custody” all “pirates, freebooters, and sea-rovers, being our subjects, or of other nations associated with them.” But he was also given a “commission of reprisals.” As it was then time of war, this second commission gave him justification for capturing any French ships he might encounter. The ship which had been purchased for him was called the Adventure, of 287 tons, 34 guns and 70 or 80 men.

In the month of May 1696, we find her sailing out of Plymouth Sound bound for New York. It should be mentioned that Kidd and a man named Robert Livingstone had undertaken to pay one-fifth of the expenses, whilst Bellomont, with the First Lord of the Admiralty, the Lord Chancellor and certain other gentlemen had put up the other four-fifths of the capital. On the voyage out, Kidd fell in with a French fishing craft off the Newfoundland banks and annexed her. Owing to the second of his commissions just mentioned, this was no act of piracy but perfectly legal as a privateer. Arrived in New York, Kidd made it known that he needed a number of additional hands as crew, and, as an incentive, he offered each man a share, reserving for himself and owners forty shares. He got an additional number of men, comprising now 155, and then sailed away. He had shipped a miscellaneous lot of rascals—naval deserters, pirates out of employment, fugitives from justice, brawlers, thieves, rogues and vagabonds. They had signed on, attracted by the chance of obtaining plenty of booty. He set a course across the Atlantic, and his first call was at Madeira, where he took on board wine and other necessaries. From there he proceeded to the Cape Verde Islands, where he obtained salt and provisions, and having all this done, steered in a southerly direction, rounded the Cape of Good Hope, and hauled up into the Indian Ocean till he found himself off Madagascar, which was a notorious hunting ground for pirates. It was now February of 1697, the Adventure having left Plymouth for New York the previous May.

But, as it happened, there were no pirate ships to be found off Madagascar, for they were somewhere out at sea looking for spoil. Therefore, after watering and taking on board more provisions, he steered to the north-east across the Indian Ocean till he came to the Malabar coast in the month of June. His ship was sadly in need of repairs, and he was in serious need of further stores. He had come a long way from New York to India, and his ship had not earned a penny since she left America. But he managed to borrow a sum of money from some Frenchmen who had lost their ship but had saved their effects, and with this he was able to buy materials for putting his ship in a seaworthy condition.

And now there came a change, and from being a privateer he became a pirate. Once more he crossed the Indian Ocean and arrived at Bab’s Key, which is on an island at the entrance to the Red Sea. He began to open his mind to his crew and to let them understand that he was making a change. So far he had acted according to the law and his commission, though not a single pirate had he seen. He knew that the Mocha fleet would presently come sailing that way, and he addressed his men in these words: “We have been unsuccessful hitherto; but courage, my boys, we’ll make our fortunes out of this fleet.” There can be little doubt but that Kidd had been working at this idea as he came across the Indian Ocean. Before a man becomes a robber either by land or by sea, there is a previous mental process. A man cannot say that he acted on the spur of the moment without confessing that he had been entertaining the suggestion of robbery some time before. It would seem that Kidd originally had every intention of keeping to the terms and spirit of his two commissions. But as he had been sailing across the world without luck, he became despondent. He thought not merely of himself, or of his crew, but of Bellomont and the rest of the syndicate. Time and expenses had been running on, and there was nothing on the credit side beyond that one French ship of a year ago. He was utterly despondent, and as a man down on his luck thieves on land so he would now act on sea. The intention was thoroughly wrong, but it was comprehensible.

He waited for the Mocha fleet, but it came not; so he had a boat hoisted out, and sent her well-manned along the coast to bring back a prisoner, or at any rate obtain intelligence somehow. In a few days the boat returned, announcing there were fourteen ships ready to sail—English, Dutch and Moorish. He therefore kept a man continually on the look out at the masthead lest the fleet should sail past without being seen; for Kidd was well-nigh desperate. And one evening, about four days later, the ships appeared in sight, being convoyed by two men-of-war—one English and one Dutch. Kidd soon fell in with them, got among them, and fired at the Moorish ship which happened to be nearest to him. Thereupon the two convoys bore down on him, engaged him hotly, and compelled him to sheer off. So, as he had begun to play the pirate, he resolved to go on. He crossed the Indian Ocean to the eastward yet again, and cruised along the Malabar coast, and at last he got a prize. She was a Moorish vessel, owned by Moorish merchants, but her master was an Englishman named Parker, and there was also a Portuguese named Don Antonio on board.

These two men Kidd forced to join him, the former as pilot and the latter as interpreter. Thus the commissioned privateer was now a full-fledged pirate; he had sunk deep down into the mire. And he acted with all the customary cruelty of a pirate. He hoisted his prisoners up by the arms, drubbed them with a naked cutlass in order that they might reveal where the money was hidden. But all that he obtained was a bale of pepper and a bale of coffee. But then he sailed along and touched at Carawar, where he discovered that already the news of the assault on the Moorish ship had arrived and was being discussed with great excitement by the merchants. Kidd was suspected, and two Englishmen came aboard and inquired for Parker and Don Antonio. Kidd denied that he knew such persons, and as he had taken the precaution to hide them away in a secret place down the hold, the visitors, still suspicious, went ashore without any definite tidings.

For over a week these two wretched men were kept in their hiding-place, and once more Kidd put to sea. A Portuguese man-of-war having been sent to cruise after him, he engaged her for six hours, but as he could not take her, and as he was the swifter sailer, he cleared off. Soon afterwards he became possessor of a Moorish ship by a very subtle quibble, which indicated the man’s astuteness. The vessel was under the command of a Dutch skipper, and as soon as Kidd gave her chase, the pirate hoisted French colours. When the merchantship saw this, she also showed the French ensign. The Adventure soon overtook her and hailed her in French. The merchantship, having a Frenchman on board, answered in that language. Kidd ordered her to send her boat aboard, and then asked the Frenchman—a passenger—if he had a pass for himself. The latter replied in the affirmative. Kidd then told the Frenchman he must pass as captain, “and,” he added, “you are captain.” His intention was simply this. Remembering the terms of his commission, he was untruthfully insisting that the merchantman was French and therefore legally his prize. It was a bare-faced quibble, and one wonders why so unprincipled a man should deem it necessary to go out of his way to make such a pretence.

So he relieved the ship of her cargo and sold it later on. Presently, as he began to suffer from qualms of conscience and declined to attack a Dutch ship with which they came up, his crew mutinied, and one day, whilst a man named Moore, his gunner, was on deck discussing the Dutch ship, Moore so far lost control of his tongue as to accuse Kidd of having ruined them all. The pirate answered this complaint by calling him a dog, taking up a bucket and breaking the man’s skull therewith, so that he died the next day. Kidd now cruised about the Malabar coast, plundering craft, taking in water and supplies from the shore, and pillaging when he liked.

And now he came up with a fine 400-ton Moorish merchantman named the Queda, whose master was an Englishman named Wright, for it was by no means rare for these Eastern owners to employ English or Dutch skippers, as the latter were such good seamen and navigators. Kidd as before chased her under French colours, and having got abreast of her compelled her to hoist out her boat and send it aboard. He then informed Wright he was to consider himself a prisoner, and he learnt that there were only three Europeans on board—two Dutch and one Frenchman—the rest being either Indians or Armenians. The last mentioned were also part-owners of the cargo. Kidd set the crew of this vessel ashore at different places along the coast, and soon sold about £10,000 worth of the captured cargo, so that each man had about £200, whilst Kidd got £8000.

Putting part of his own crew into the Queda, Kidd took the Adventure and the prize southwards to Madagascar, and when he had come to anchor a ludicrous incident occurred. For there came off to him a canoe containing several Englishmen who had previously known Kidd well. They now saluted him and said they understood that he had come to take them and hang them, “which would be a little unkind in such an old acquaintance.” But Kidd at once put them at their ease, swearing he had no such intention, and that he was now in every respect their brother, and just as bad as they; and calling for alcohol he drank their captain’s health. The men then returned on board their ship Resolution. But by now, after all her travels backwards and forwards over the ocean, the Adventure had become very leaky and her two pumps had to be kept going continuously. So Kidd transferred all the tackle and guns from her to the Queda, and in future made her his home. He then divided up the spoil on the sharing principle as before. About a hundred of his men now deserted him, and, with his forty men and about £20,000 in his ship, he put to sea, bound at last for America again, for he was under orders to report to Bellomont at the end of the cruise.

He arrived at the West Indies, called at one of the Leeward islands and learnt that the news of his piracies had spread over the civilised world, and he was wanted as a pirate. The date was now April 1699. He handed over the Queda to a man named Bolton who was a merchant at Antigua, and bought from him a sloop named the San Antonio, into which he put all his treasure. He must now press on and swear to Bellomont that he was innocent of piracy. Being anxious to communicate with his wife, Kidd steered for Long Island Sound, proceeded as far as Oyster Bay, landed, and sent her a message, and after going on his northward voyaging, transferred some of his treasure into three sloops. Towards the end of June he headed for Boston, arriving there on the 1st July, where he had various interviews with Bellomont. The sloop and her contents, as well as the other three sloops’ goods were arrested, and Kidd was afterwards taken across to England. He and six others were tried at a sessions of Admirality at the Old Bailey in May 1701 for piracy and robbery on the high seas, and found guilty. Kidd was further charged with the murder of the man Moore in the bucket incident, and also found guilty.

Kidd’s defence was that the man mutinied against him, that his accusers had committed perjury and that he was “the most innocent person of them all.” But the Court thought otherwise, and a week or so later he and the other six men were executed at the Execution Dock, and afterwards their bodies were hung up in chains, at intervals along the river, where they remained for a long time.

Of the treasure which was brought by Kidd to America, and has frequently been sought for by treasure-hunters unavailingly, the exact total of gold dust, gold coins, gold bars; silver rings, silver buttons, broken silver, silver bars; precious stones—diamonds, rubies, green stones, and so on—reached the following enormous amount—

A certain amount of plate and money was successfully retained by Kidd’s wife, and of what was left of the booty after payment of the legal fees involved in his trial, the sum of £6472 was, by special Act of Parliament, handed over to Greenwich Hospital.[2]

Surely, with such facts as these before one, it is a hopeless case for any modern enthusiast to pretend for a moment that the famous Captain Kidd was not a pirate. If his luck had turned out better, probably he would have contentedly remained a privateer. But opportunity is illustrative of the man, and if ever a sailor succeeded in showing himself to be a pirate with all the avariciousness and cruelty which the word suggests, here you have it in the life of Captain Kidd.