We have seen throughout this volume that there have always been certain geographical areas which have been favoured by pirates as their suitable sphere for roving. Madagascar, Malabar, the north coast of Africa, the West Indies—these and others have been the scene, not of one piratical incident, but of scores.

The Persian Gulf is to this day not quite the peaceful corner of the globe that undoubtedly some day it will become. It is still patrolled by the Royal Navy for various reasons, including the prevention of gun-running. Just how long the Persian Gulf has been navigated it would be impossible to say: but there is every reason to suppose that if the first kind of boat which ever floated was seen on the Tigris or Euphrates, the first sea-going craft was observed in the Persian Gulf. At any rate it is certain that the Arabians who occupy that peninsula which separates the Red Sea from the Persian Gulf were in the early stages of history the greatest navigators and seamen anywhere. Even right down to the Middle Ages, for scientific navigation, with the aid of those nautical instruments which were the forerunners of our modern sextant, there were no mariners who could find their way across the trackless seas so skilfully as these inhabitants of Arabia.

From time immemorial there have dwelt on the west side of the Persian Gulf an Arabian tribe named the Joassamees, engaged in maritime pursuits either in trading, or pearl-fishing, or as pilots to strange ships entering the Gulf, or else acting as pirates. For it was obvious to them that this last mentioned occupation held out much that was tempting. So the Joassamees began in a small way, pillaging the coasting vessels of the Gulf, and as they found their efforts in this respect were so successful they aspired to bigger things. We are speaking now of that fascinating period of the sailing ship which belongs to the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries.

The reader will instantly call to mind those fine ships of the East India Company, so smart and similar to the ships of the Royal Navy in appearance, and so similar in discipline and actual build. Shortly before the close of the eighteenth century the Viper, a 10-gun East Indiaman, was lying at anchor in the Bushire Roads. (Bushire is a port on the east or Persian side of the Gulf.) In the same harbour there were at anchor also a few dhows. Up till now these pirates had never molested an English ship: they had confined their attentions to native craft, so no efforts had been made to deal with them.

Now the skippers of these dhows had applied to the Persian agent of the East India Company for a supply of gunpowder and cannon shot to last them out their cruise, and, as the agent had no suspicions whatever, he gave them an order to the commanding officer on board for the desired quantity. It happened that the Viper’s captain was ashore, so the order was produced to the officer in charge, the quantity mentioned was handed over, and the dhows began to make sail. The Viper’s crew were breakfasting on deck, and the officers below, when, without any warning, a couple of these dhows began to cannonade the Viper, and the crews attempted to come aboard. No time was lost on the Indiaman, however, for the officers rushed up on deck, called the crew to quarters, cut the hempen cable, got sail on her so as to be ready for manœuvring, and a regular engagement began between the Viper and the four dhows which had plenty of men and big guns. It was a determined onslaught, and Lieutenant Carruthers, the commanding officer, was wounded in the lower part of the body, but bravely kept on, until he was killed by a ball in the forehead.

The command now fell on Mr. Salter, midshipman, who continued the fight not less courageously, and, after a keen encounter, drove the pirates off and chased them out to sea. This gave them a severe lesson, so that years passed by before another similar attempt was made on the British flag. But in the year 1804 there was a renewed attempt, and the following story, though a little involved, is of real interest. It begins with the East India Company’s cruiser named Fly, and the scene is still the Persian Gulf. At the time we are speaking of this ship was off the island of Kenn when she had the bad fortune to be attacked by a French privateer. In order, however, to prevent the enemy boarding her, she was purposely run on to a shoal, and the Government dispatches which she was carrying, together with some treasure, were thrown overboard in 2½ fathoms, cross-bearings having first been taken so that perhaps these might be recovered at some future date. The passengers and crew were taken to Bushire and set at liberty.

They then purchased a dhow by subscription, fitted her out and sailed down the Gulf bound for Bombay. On their way they stopped near Kenn Island to recover the dispatches and treasure. The former they managed to get up again, and as there was no time to waste they left the treasure and were hurrying on to their goal. But when they got to the south of the Gulf they had even worse fortune, for they were attacked by a fleet of Joassamee pirates and taken into the port of Ras-el-Khyma, which was to these Arabian rovers what Algiers had been to the corsairs of the Mediterranean. Here the English remained in the hope of being ransomed, but no such opportunity occurred. Months went by, and at last they determined to do what they could. They informed the pirate-chief of the treasure which lay sunk in the Gulf, and assured him that having taken good cross-bearings of the spot by the marks on shore the wealth could be recovered if some of these Arabians, so accustomed to pearl-diving, would assist them. The arrangement was that if the treasure was recovered the English should regain their liberty.

So English and Arabian sailed to the spot, and anchored where the cross-bearings indicated. The first divers who went down were so successful that all the crew dived down to the bottom of the fifteen feet in turns. And then came the great chance of escape. While practically all these men were below the water on the floor of the sea, it seemed that the real opportunity was at hand after all those months to get away. The picture is not without humour—the prisoners above in the craft, while the captors are left behind with no alternative but to swim ashore. But the best laid schemes of mice and men often work out differently from mere theory. The cable was cut, and either the splash of the rope in the water, or some suspicious instinct in these primitive people betrayed the plot, so the divers rushed up again to the surface and prevented the consummation of the prisoners’ desires.

But for all that, the pirates kept their word. The treasure had been recovered, so the prisoners were given their liberty. The promise was kept literally and no more. For being placed on the island of Kenn there was no means of escaping from this limited freedom; and, further, there was practically nothing to eat. The pirates came ashore at the same time and put to death all the inhabitants, and the Englishmen, thinking it might be their own turn next, took to hiding in the rocks as best they might, going out under cover of night to steal a goat or whatever food might fall into their hands. But when at last the pirates had completed their bloody work they departed, leaving the Englishmen the sole inhabitants.

It was clear to the latter that if they wished to keep alive, they too must quit the island; but what were they to do for a boat? And here again we have one of those instances which, in fiction, would be far-fetched. When they were most in despair they had the good fortune to find a wrecked boat on the beach which might be capable of being repaired. Through the silent, deserted town the mariners searched until they were able to bring down to the beach an adequate supply of timber for patching up the boat and for making also a raft. In a few days both of these were ready, and the party in two sections began to endeavour to cross to the Persian shore. But one of the sections foundered and were never seen again, while the other reached the mainland and then, following the line of coast, obtaining food and water from the villages through which they passed, they arrived at length after terrible privations at Bushire, still having preserved their Government dispatches. Thence they proceeded to Bombay, but out of the whole company there were only two that survived, though the bag of dispatches was brought at last into safety.

In the following year two English brigs were also captured by these pirates, while the former were sailing from Bombay to Bussorah, and the crew taken to an Arabian port, whence they succeeded in escaping, though the piracies now continued unabated. By the year 1808 these Joassamees were becoming exceedingly strong and impudent. Their many successes had made them more desperate than ever, and the time-honoured practice of heaving the resisting captain overboard was, of course, resorted to. One of the most daring attacks was that on the Sylph, an East India Company’s cruiser of 60 tons, mounting 8 guns. She was bound from Bombay to Persia, and when she had arrived in the Gulf she was attacked by a fleet of these Arab dhows. The commander of the Sylph was a Lieutenant Graham. He, of course, observed these craft approaching him, but he had been previously warned by the Bombay Government not to fire upon any of these dhows until he had first been fired at.

Under the circumstances one would have thought that was a clear instance when orders might have been disobeyed: for before he had even time to hoist his colours to indicate his nationality, the dhows had thrown themselves against the Sylph, poured in a shower of stones, wounded many of the crew, and then leapt aboard and captured the vessel before a single shot had been fired. Those whom they had not killed were now slain with the sword, and the enemy being in sole possession made sail and took the ship along triumphantly, their dhows bearing them company. But before long the Commodore of the squadron hove in sight, cruising in the frigate Nereid. Seeing the Sylph with so many dhows alongside, he correctly surmised that the East Indiaman had fallen a victim to the pirates. So giving chase to this assorted fleet he soon came up to the East Indiaman, and the Arabs having leapt again into their dhows, the Commodore was able to regain the Sylph, though he was unable to capture either dhow or Arab.

And then the East India Government began to realise that something ought to be done to end these repeated attacks: so an expedition was sent from Bombay consisting of a frigate and a 38-gun ship as well as eight East India Company’s cruisers, four large transports and a bomb-ketch. These at length arrived at Ras-el-Khyma, anchored before the town and landed the troops. The Arabs assembled in crowds to attack the invaders, but the trained troops were too great a match for them. The regular volleys and the charge at the point of the bayonet caused very heavy losses to the enemy. The place was burnt down, sixty of their dhows and boats as well as an English ship which they had previously captured were also consumed in flames, and the troops were allowed to plunder all that they found. With very small loss to the invaders the whole place had been wiped out, though it was thought that the treasures had been taken inland by the pirates.

The expedition afterwards sailed to Linga, another of these pirate ports, and burnt it to the ground. And after an exciting encounter yet another port, named Luft, was also overcome. It happened on this wise. Because the channel was very difficult and narrow, the ships had to be warped to their anchorages. The troops were then landed, and it was hoped to have been able to blow up the gate of the fortress with a howitzer specially brought for such a purpose. The fortress’s walls were fourteen feet thick, so it would have been a tough business to have razed them to the ground. But the English were picked off by the enemy so disastrously from the loopholes of the fortress that a general flight took place of our men, and the howitzer was left behind. The troops lay hidden till darkness came on, and were thus enabled to make for the beach, where they embarked without further assault from the enemy. But as the dawn came, judge of the surprise of the invaders when they saw a man on the top of the fortress walls waving the Union Jack! The whole squadron marvelled and rubbed their eyes in amazement. Who was it, and how had he remained there alive, and what were the enemy doing? The answer was soon found. This gallant gentleman was Lieutenant Hall who was in command of the Fury, one of the ships nearest to the shore. During the darkness he had put off from his ship, landed alone with a Union Jack and advanced to the castle gate. Here he found the fortress had been for the most part abandoned, but there were a few of the enemy still remaining. When they saw the British officer these presumed that there were more of his followers coming on, so they fled precipitately. All that the officer now had to do was to take possession single-handed. It was a plucky, cool act, and well worthy of remembrance.

The fleet got under way again, bombarded for several days another pirate stronghold named Shenaz. A breach was made in the castle walls, and even now a stubborn resistance was made, the Arabs fighting finely till the last, but the town was overcome and left a mere ruin. And such was the effect of this protracted expedition, that for some years following the pirates were compelled to reverence the British flag whenever they were tempted to attack our ships at sea. But as it was with Algiers, so with these Arabian pirates. The respite did not continue long, and by the year 1815 the Arabian dhows were infesting the entrance of the Red Sea. Under their admiral, Ameer Ibrahim, a fleet of them, the following year, captured near the Straits of Babelmandeb four British vessels richly laden with cargo from Surat.

So again a British squadron had to be sent against them. This consisted of H.M.S. Challenger and the East India Company’s cruisers Mercury, Ariel and Vestal, which were dispatched to the port of Ras-el-Khyma, where a demand was presented for the return of the four Surat ships or, if not forthcoming, then the payment of four lacks of rupees, coupled with the handing over of Ameer Ibrahim. This town stands on a narrow tongue of sandy land, pointing to the north-east, presenting its north-west edge to the open sea and its south-east edge to a creek which ran up to the south-west and affords a safe harbour for small craft. Round towers and isolated walls were seen, but no continuous wall. There were about 10,000 inhabitants in the town, and the port boasted of 60 dhows manned by crews of from 80 to 300 men. In the present instance they were assisted by another 40 dhows from other ports. In short, the concentrated force amounted to about 100 dhows and 8000 fighting men.

After some fruitless negotiations, the signal was made to the British squadron to get up anchors and stand in close to the shore. This was followed by another signal to engage with the enemy, and the squadron bore down nearly in line before the wind, under easy sail, till they got near where four dhows were lying at anchor, the depth of the water gradually shoaling till they found themselves in 2½ fathoms. At this sounding the squadron anchored with springs on the cables, so that each vessel lay with her broadside to the shore. Fire was now opened against these four of the enemy’s craft, the latter seething with men, brandishing their weapons in the air. At first some of our shells reached the shore and buried themselves in the sand, others fell across the bows of the Arab craft. On all the forts were seen the Arabs’ colours flying, and crowds of armed men were visible on the beach. But, unhappily, the whole of this bombardment availed nothing and a bloodless battle was brought to an end.

In the year 1818, as these pirates had assumed such strength and daring to the great menace of commercial shipping, another fleet had to be sent against them. For the Arab dhows had not merely plundered ships at sea but ravaged the sea-coast towns on islands as well as mainland. But the British ships now dispatched intercepted them and drove them back into the Gulf. In one day as many as seventeen dhows were being chased by one of ours, but the wind just suited the Arabian craft so that they managed to get away. And so we might continue. For years these pirates caused grievous trouble, and for years they had to be dealt with. Perhaps the time will come when the Persian Gulf will be as safe for navigation as the English Channel is to-day, with regard to the elimination of pirate craft. Matters have, thanks to the patrolling by the Royal Navy, improved considerably: but that there is still danger is well-known, and it would be foolish to ignore it. For we must remember that it is a hard task to exterminate such an ancient profession as piracy, and especially when the practice is carried on by such an historic race of seamen as the Arabs. When any community has been accustomed for centuries and centuries, either in the Persian Gulf or the Red Sea or the Arabian Sea or the Indian Ocean, to gain their living by sea robbery; when they have made such a careful study of the local navigation and the habits of their potential victims,—it is no easy matter for these men suddenly to relinquish their previous habits and to give up their hard-earned knowledge. It would be just as easy for a Brixham or Lowestoft fisherman to give up his vocation and take to farming or manufacture, as it has been for the Arab slaver and pirate to become a law-abiding seaman. But as so many of the notorious piratical seas in the past have been cleansed beyond all expectation, so, doubtless, the time will come when the last sea-robber has disappeared from both hemispheres and the pirate has become as extinct as the dodo. But whether the story of the sea will thereby be as interesting and exciting as in previous ages is quite another matter.