CHAPTER VII.

THE PIRATES OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

Mary Read, the Female Pirate—As Male Servant, Soldier, and Sailor—Her Bravery and Modesty—The Pirate Vane—No Honour among Thieves—Delivered to Justice—The brief Career of Captain Worley—The Biter Bit—A more than usually Brutal Pirate—Captain Low’s Life of Villainy—His Wonderful Successes—An unfortunate Black Burned to Death—Torture of a Portuguese Captain—Of Two Portuguese Friars—The Results of Sympathy—Low’s Cupidity Defeated by a Portuguese—Eleven Thousand Moidores dropped out of a Cabin Window—An Unpunished Fiend.

One of the most remarkable pirates of the century under review was, strange as it may appear, a female! Mary Read acted first as a male page, then volunteered as a sailor, was afterwards a cadet in a Flanders regiment, and eventually returned to the sea to become a pirate. Her first impersonation of a boy was undertaken at her mother’s command. The latter had been twice married, and a son born of the first husband had died. When the poor woman was in great destitution she thought of that husband’s mother, who was in easy circumstances, and passed off her second child Mary as a boy, thereby obtaining some pecuniary assistance. In the army Mary Read is said to have behaved with great bravery, and when she retired she married a young Fleming who had been a comrade in the field. They set up a restaurant, or tavern, and for a time flourished in their business, but the husband dying suddenly, and peace being concluded, she was obliged to seek some other employment, and after a short lapse of time we find her a sailor on a vessel bound to the West Indies. This ship was captured by English pirates, and Mary was found to be the only English person on board, so they detained her, letting the rest go, after they had stripped the vessel of all they wanted. This was her first introduction to such company, and it is said that in after life she stated that it was compulsion and necessity which led her to follow the career of a pirate, and not any desire on her part. But some of her actions looked as though she had taken rather kindly to that unlawful profession.

When the royal pardon was granted to all pirates in the West Indies who should abandon their mode of life before a given date, the crew with whom Mary was serving availed themselves of it, and for some little time afterwards we find Mary working on a privateer. The crew on this vessel soon after mutinied, and turned her into a pirate ship, on which Mary is said to have behaved with almost ferocious bravery. When the vessel was at last captured, she, with another female pirate, named Anne Bonney, and one male, were the last three on deck, the others having fled below. Mary on this occasion is said to have fired a pistol among the cowardly sailors, killing one and wounding another. It is just to her to say that in her intercourse with others she was modest to the last degree, and her sex was undiscovered by the sailors. In fact, the before-named Anne Bonney, thinking Mary Read was a handsome young man, fell violently in love with her, and the latter was obliged to disclose her sex. She was a strong, robust woman, and although the course of life she had undertaken made her practically a criminal of the worst description—a robber and a murderer—she had, if all accounts are true, many very good qualities. Captain Rackam, another pirate, not knowing at the time her sex, asked her one day why she—or, as he thought, he—had chosen a life so dangerous, and one which exposed her to the risk of being hanged at any time. She answered that as to the hanging she thought it no very great hardship, “for were it not for that every cowardly fellow would turn pirate, and so infest the seas, while men of courage might starve; that if it were put to her choice she would not have the punishment less than death, the fear of which kept some dastardly rogues honest; that many of those who are now cheating the widows and orphans, and oppressing their poor neighbours who have no money to obtain justice, would then rob at sea, and the ocean would be as crowded with rogues as the land.” Curious argument! Mary Read came near tasting the quality of hanging when at last she was captured, but an illness, fortunately for herself, intervened, and she died a natural death. Woman’s mission in life rarely takes her to sea as a practical sailor.

A prominent pirate of the seventeenth century was Captain Charles Vane, the details of whose career would, however, read much like some already given in the lives of earlier freebooters. One incident at the end of his life is presented, to show how much distrust often existed among the pirates themselves. Vane was at last wrecked on a small uninhabited island near the Bay of Honduras; his vessel was completely lost and most of his men drowned. He resided there some weeks, being reduced to great straits.

While Vane was upon this island a ship put in there from Jamaica for water, the captain of which, one Holford, an old pirate, happened to be an acquaintance of Vane’s. He thought this a good opportunity to get off, and accordingly applied to his friend; but Holford absolutely refused him, saying to him, “Charles, I can’t trust you on board my ship unless I carry you as a prisoner, for I shall have you caballing with my men, knocking me on the head, and running away with my ship pirating.” Vane made all the protestations of honour in the world to him; but it seems Captain Holford was too intimately acquainted with him to place any confidence in his words or oaths. He told him he might easily get off if he had a mind to it. “I am going down the bay,” said he, “and shall return hither in about a month; and if I find you upon the island when I come back, I will carry you to Jamaica and there hang you!” “How can I get away?” answered Vane. “Are there not fishermen’s dories upon the beach? Can’t you take one of them?” replied Holford. “What!” replied Vane; “would you have me steal a dory, then?” “Do you make it a matter of conscience?” replied Holford, “to steal a dory, when you have been a common robber and pirate, stealing ships and cargoes, and plundering all mankind that fell in your way? Stay here if you are so squeamish;” and he left him to consider the matter.

After Captain Holford’s departure another ship put into the small island, on her way home, for some water. None of the company knowing Vane, he easily passed his examination, and so was shipped for the voyage. One would be apt to think that Vane was now pretty safe, and likely to escape the fate which his crimes had merited; but here a cross accident happened which ruined all. Holford, returning from the bay, was met by this ship, and the captains being very well acquainted with each other, Holford was invited to dine aboard, which he did. As he passed along to the cabin he chanced to cast his eye down in the hold, and there saw Charles Vane at work. He immediately spoke to the captain, saying, “Do you know whom you have aboard there?” “Why,” said he, “I shipped the man the other day at an island where he had been cast away, and he seems to be a brisk hand.” “I tell you,” replied Captain Holford, “it is Vane, the notorious pirate.” “If it be he,” replied the other, “I won’t keep him.” “Why, then,” said Holford, “I’ll send and take him aboard, and surrender him at Jamaica.” This being settled, Captain Holford, as soon as he returned to his ship, sent his mate, armed, to Vane, who had his pistol ready cocked, and told him he was his prisoner. No man daring to make opposition, he was brought aboard and put into irons; and when Captain Holford arrived at Jamaica he delivered up his old acquaintance to justice, at which place he was tried, convicted, and executed, as was, some time before, Vane’s companion, Robert Deal, who was brought thither by one of the men-of-war. “It is clear,” says the original narrator, “from this how little ancient friendship will avail a great villain when he is deprived of the power that had before supported and rendered him formidable.”

Another pirate of the same period was Captain Worley, who commenced business by leaving New York, in September, 1718, in a small open boat, with eight men, six muskets, a few pounds of biscuit and dried tongues, and a keg of water. He took first a shallop laden with household goods and plate, and later three sloops. He was becoming formidable enough to cause uneasiness to the authorities, who despatched two armed sloops after him. Worley saw them off the coast of Virginia, and believing that they were two vessels bound for the James River, hastened to get into its mouth first. Meantime the inhabitants of James Town, supposing that all three were pirates, made every preparation ashore to defend themselves. Their surprise must have been great indeed when they saw the pirates were fighting among themselves. Worley had waited in the entrance of the river, with the black colours flying, when he discovered that the approaching vessels hoisted English colours, and that he was entrapped. The pirate and his men fought bravely, and when the action was over Worley and only one man out of twenty-five survived. As they would probably have died of their wounds in a short time they were brought ashore in irons, and hanged almost immediately. Worley’s career as a pirate had lasted less than five months.

Yet another example. Captain Edward Low had, as a boy, shown peculiarly brutal qualities. He had bullied, and in low games had cheated, every one he could, so that it was not surprising that when grown to man’s estate he developed into a successful but specially obnoxious villain. After sundry vicissitudes he had entered among the company of a ship bound to Honduras for logwood, and when arrived there was employed in bringing it on shore in command of a party of twelve armed men. One day the boat came alongside the ship just a little before dinner-time, and Low desired that they should remain for the meal, while the captain wanted them to make one more trip, and offered them a bottle of rum. Low and some of the men became enraged, and the former took a loaded musket and fired at the captain, missing him, but injuring another man. They then ran away with the boat, and only next day took a small vessel, on which they hoisted the black flag.

Fortune now constantly favoured him, and he was joined by many others. At the Azores he captured a French ship of thirty-four guns, taking her with his own two vessels. Entering St. Michael’s roadstead, he captured seven sail without firing a gun. He then sent ashore to the governor for water and provisions, promising to release the vessels if his demands were conceded, and burn them if they were not. The request was instantly granted, and six of the vessels were returned. But a French vessel being among them, they took away all her guns and men, except the cook, whom they said, “being a greasy fellow, would fry well.” The brutes then bound the unfortunate wretch to the mast, and set fire to the ship.

“The next who fell in their way was Captain Garren, in the _Wright_ galley, who, because he showed some inclination to defend himself, was cut and mangled in a barbarous manner. There were also two Portuguese friars, whom they tied to the foremast, and several times let them down before they were dead, merely to gratify their ferocious dispositions. Meanwhile, another Portuguese beholding this cruel scene expressed some sorrow in his countenance, upon which one of the wretches said he did not like his looks, and so giving him a stroke across the body with his cutlass he fell upon the spot. Another of the miscreants aiming a blow at a prisoner missed his aim, and struck Low upon the under jaw. The surgeon was called, and stitched up the wound; but Low finding fault with the operation, the surgeon gave him a blow which broke all the stitches, and left him to sew them himself. After he had plundered this vessel some of them were for burning her, as they had done the Frenchman; but instead of that, they cut her cables, rigging, and sails to pieces, and set her adrift to the mercy of the waves.”

On another occasion he had taken a fine Portuguese vessel, but could not find the treasure, and he accordingly tortured some of the men to make them inform him. He was told that during the chase the captain had hung a sack containing eleven thousand moidores out of the cabin window, and that when they were taken he had cut the rope, and let it drop to the bottom of the sea. One can imagine Low’s rage. He ordered the unfortunate captain’s lips to be cut off and broiled before his eyes. He then murdered him and the whole crew in cold blood. The narrative of Low’s career is one continuous succession of such stories; nor can the writer discover that he met with punishment in this world.