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.
CHAPTER XV
THE EXPLOITS OF CAPTAIN AVERY
If the sixteenth century was the “grand” period of the Moslem corsairs of the Mediterranean, the eighteenth will ever remain memorable for the manifold activities of those English seamen who took to piracy as a far more remunerative profession than carrying freights. If we look for any explanation of this, I think it is not far to seek.
You have to take into consideration several points. Firstly, it seems to me, in all phases whether political or otherwise, whether concerned with the sea or with land affairs, you must get at personal and national character—the very fount and origin of all human energies. Whatever else the seventeenth century was, it was not a very distinguished era. There were, of course, exceptions, but speaking broadly, it was a most disappointing period. Morally it was corrupt, politically it was degenerate, and artistically it was insincere and pompous. You have only to read the history of that period in its various aspects to realise this. This was the time when the reaction after the Puritan period had led to a dereliction of high principles, when intrigue and bribery had made such an onslaught on political life that votes were bought for money, that even admirals allowed petty politics to interfere with their loyalty when fighting at sea the nation’s enemies. Smug respectability was the dominating high ideal, and there was no greater sin than that of being found out. High-handed actions by those in power and lawlessness by those who were covetous of obtaining wealth were significant of this period. And if you want to realise the humbug and insincerity of the eighteenth century, you have only to go into the nearest art gallery and examine the pictures of that period (excepting perhaps some portraiture), or to read the letters which the men and women wrote, or to read the books which the educated people of that time esteemed so highly. Religion and politics, domestic life, art and literature were in an unhealthy condition.
Now a man, whether a sailor or a politician, or whatever else, is very largely the child of his age. That is to say, given a lawless, unprincipled, corrupt period, it is more than likely that any particular individual will be found to exhibit in his activities the marks of that age. And therefore, bearing such facts as these in mind, it becomes perfectly comprehensible that the eighteenth century should have been the flourishing period of English sea-robbery. Add just one item more—the continual period of unrest caused by years of international wars and the rumours of war, and you are not surprised that the call of the sea was accepted by so many more hundreds of men than ever before in the history of the nation. But naval wars did not mean merely that more men were wanted to work the ship which fought our battles; there was such an encouragement and incentive to skippers and capitalists to undertake privateering that not even in the Elizabethan age had so many ships and men taken part in that kind of undertaking. So, instead of privateering being merely an exceptional activity during an occasional period of hostilities, it became, owing to long drawn-out wars, a regular, definite profession. There was in it every opportunity to indulge both personal and national hatred of the foreigner; to enjoy a series of fine adventures, and then to return home with an accumulation of glory and prizes. Side by side with this—and well illustrating the tone of the age—smuggling had become an almost irrepressible national evil.
In the history of smuggling you not infrequently found that the preliminary steps to this dishonest livelihood were as follows: First, the man was employed as an honest fisherman; then, finding this did not pay him, he became a privateer, or else in the King’s service serving on board a Revenue cutter. Then, being more anxious for wealth, he threw in his lot with the very men he had been chasing, and became either an out-and-out smuggler or else a pirate. For, as has been insisted on more than once in previous chapters, the line of demarcation between privateering and piracy, though perfectly visible to lawyers, was not always sufficiently strong to keep the roving seaman within the limitations of legal livelihood. In a word, as it is always difficult suddenly to break a habit, and as this immense body of seamen had so long been accustomed to earning their money by attacking other ships, so in an age that had but little respect for what was lawful, it was really not surprising that dozens of ships put to sea as downright pirates or else as acknowledged smugglers. In this present volume we are concerned only with the first of these two classes.
Typical of the period was a notorious Captain Avery, whose doings became known throughout Europe. There was nothing petty in these eighteenth-century corsairs. They had in them the attributes which go to making a great admiral, they were born rulers of men, they were good strategists, hard fighters, brave and valorous, daring and determined. But as against this they were tyrannical, cruel and brutal; and, as is so frequently the case with all men, the acquisition of wealth ruined them, made them still more overbearing and swollen-headed, so that with no high principles, no lofty aims, they descended by degrees into debauchery and callousness. It was a thousand pities in many ways, for these were magnificent seamen who took their ill-designed, bluff, old tubs practically all round the world, keeping the sea for months at a time, and surviving terrible weather and many changes of climate. If these great disciplinarians had not become tyrants, and if their unquestioned abilities could have been legitimately employed, they had in them the ability which has produced great Empire makers, brilliant admirals and magnificent administrators. But their misfortune consisted in having belonged to the eighteenth century.
Avery, like many of the world’s greatest seamen, was born in Devonshire, went to sea when quite young, and rose to the rank of mate in a merchant ship. It happened that there was a good deal of smuggling going on by the French of Martinique with the Spaniards of the American colonies. And in order to put a stop to this, the Spanish Government hired foreigners to act against the delinquents. A number of Bristol merchants accordingly fitted out a couple of 30-gun ships, and, well-manned, well-found in everything, sent them to Corunna to await orders. One of these ships was commanded by a Captain Gibson, and in the year 1715 Avery happened to be his mate. The Devonshire man possessed all the traditional seafaring instincts and that love of adventure for which his county was famous, and he was evidently not unpopular with the rest of the crew. For after he had won their confidence, he began to point out to them what immense riches could be obtained on the Spanish coast, and suggested that they should throw in their lot with him and run off with the ship. This suggestion was heartily agreed upon, and it was resolved to make the attempt the following evening at ten o’clock.
It should be mentioned that Gibson, like many another eighteenth-century skipper, was rather too fond of his grog, and on the eventful night he had imbibed somewhat freely and turned into his bunk, instead of going ashore for his usual refreshment. Those of the crew who were not in the present plot had also turned in, but the others remained on deck. At ten o’clock the long-boat from the other ship rowed off to them. Avery gave her a hail, and the boat answered by the agreed watchword thus. “Is your drunken boatswain on board?” Avery replied in the affirmative, and then sixteen able men came on board. The first thing was to secure the hatches, and then very quietly they hauled up the anchor and put to sea without making much noise.