YES, you can have the Duke and the Duchess. They are both staunch craft and we expect to get a good return for our investment in them.”
The fellow who spoke—a stout-bodied Quaker—looked quizzically at a bronzed sea-captain, who, cap in hand, stood before him. By his side were seated a number of merchants, fat, sleek, contented-looking. They were giving instructions to Captain Woodes Rogers: their privateersman, who was about to make a voyage of adventure in their behalf.
“My good friends,” said the mariner, “I shall do my very best for you all. The French and Spaniards have been having it all their own way in the South seas. It is about time that the English had a share in the rich spoils of that treasure highway. I shall work my hardest for you.”
The merchants, ship-owners and Quakers nodded.
“May Providence guide your course aright,” said they. And—as Captain Woodes Rogers went off to inspect his privateersmen—all indulged in a glass of Madeira to pledge “good luck and good health” to the staunch seaman from Bristol.
It was not many weeks before the Duke (of three hundred and twenty tons) with thirty guns and one hundred and seventeen men, and the Duchess (of two hundred and sixty tons) with twenty-six guns and one hundred and eight men, sailed from King Road for Cork, in Ireland.
“Egad!” cried Captain Rogers, as they passed out to sea. “Our rigging is slack. Our decks are lumbered up. Our stores are badly stowed. Our crew is so very mixed that I must stop in Ireland to get more able sea-dogs. Was ever captain in a worse fix?”
His Lieutenants grinned, for they saw that things were in a sorry mess, indeed.
“Most of us have embraced this trip around the world in order to retrieve our fortunes,” continued the captain. “Did you ever see a harder crew than this? There are tinkers, tailors, haymakers, peddlers, fiddlers, a negro and ten boys. None know how to use the cutlass and they haven’t got any sea-legs. Well, well; I’ll make the best of it, but it’s hard goin’, I assure you.”
And still the Lieutenants grinned.