But there were times when English seamen and merchants were able to “get their own back” with interest, as the following incident will show. At the beginning of June, in the year 1538, an English merchant, Henry Davy, freighted a London ship named the Clement, which was owned by one Grenebury, who lived in Thames Street, and dispatched her with orders to proceed to the “Bay in Breteyne.” She set forth under the command of a man named Lyllyk, the ship’s purser being William Scarlet, a London clothworker. Seven men formed her crew, but when off Margate they took on board nine more. They then proceeded down Channel and took on board another four from the shore, but espying a Flemish ship of war they deemed it prudent to get hold of the coast of Normandy as soon as possible. In the “mayne” sea—by which I understand the English Channel near the mainland of the Continent—they descried coming over the waves three ships, and these were found to be Breton merchantmen.
This caused some discussion on board the Clement, and Davy, the charterer, who had come with the ship, remarked to the skipper Lyllyk that they had lost as much as £60 in goods, which had been captured by Breton pirates at an earlier date, and had never been able to obtain compensation in France in spite of all their endeavours. Any one who has any imagination and a knowledge of seafaring human nature, can easily picture Lyllyk and his crew cordially agreeing with Davy’s point of view, and showing more than a mere passive sympathy. The upshot of the discussion was that they resolved to take the law into their own hands and capture one of these three ships.
The resolution was put into effect, so that before long they had become possessed of the craft. The Breton crew were rowed ashore in a boat and left there, and after collecting the goods left behind, the Englishmen stowed them in the hold of the Clement. A prize crew, consisting of a man whose name was Comelys, and four seamen, were placed in charge of the captured ship, which now got under way. The Clement, too, resumed her voyage, and made for Peryn in Cornwall, where she was able to sell, at a good price, the goods taken out of the Breton. The gross amount obtained was divided up among the captors, and though the figures may not seem very large, yet the sum represented the equivalent of what would be to-day about ten times that amount of money. Henry Davy, being the charterer, received £17; the master, the mate, the quarter-master and the purser received each thirty shillings, while the mariners got twenty shillings apiece. Lyllyk and nine of the crew then departed, while Davy, Scarlet, Leveret the carpenter and two others got the ship under way, sailed up Channel and brought the Clement back to the Thames, where they delivered her to the wife of the owner.
But Englishmen were not always so fortunate, and the North Sea pirates were still active, in spite of the efforts which had been made by English kings in previous centuries. In 1538 the cargo ship George Modye put to sea with goods belonging to a company of English merchant adventurers, consisting of Sir Ralph Waryn, “good Mr. Lock and Rowland Hyll” and others. She never reached her port of destination, however, for the Norwegian pirates pillaged her and caused a loss to the adventurers of £10,000, whereupon, after complaint had been made, Cromwell was invoked to obtain letters from Henry VIII. to the kings of Denmark, France and Scotland that search might be duly made. There was, in fact, a good deal of luck, even yet, as to whether a ship would ever get to the harbour whither she was sent. In September 1538 we find Walter Herbart complaining that twice since Candlemas he had been robbed by Breton pirates. But, a week later, it is recorded that some pirates, who had robbed peaceable ships bound from Iceland, had been chased by John Chaderton and others of Portsmouth and captured about this time.
And it was not always that Englishmen dealt with these foreigners in any merciful manner, regardless of right or wrong. I have already emphasised the fact that, as regards the question of legality, there was little to choose between the seamen of any maritime nation. Rather it was a question of opportunity, and the very men who to-day complained bitterly of the robbery of their ships and cargoes might to-morrow be found performing piracy themselves. A kind of sea-vendetta went on, and in the minds of the mariners the only sin was that of being found out. So we notice that, in the spring of 1539, an instance of a Breton ship being captured by English corsairs who, according to the recognised custom of the sea, forthwith threw overboard the French sailors. These were all drowned except one who, “as if by a miracle, swam six miles to shore.” So says the ancient record, though it is difficult to believe that even a strong swimmer could last out so long after being badly knocked about. The Bretons had their revenge this time, for complaint was made to the chief justices, who within fifteen days had the culprits arrested and condemned, and six of them were executed on the 19th of May. Before the end of the month Francis I. wrote to thank the English king for so promptly dealing with the culprits.
Bearing in mind the interest which Henry VIII. took in nautical matters and in the welfare of his country generally; recollecting, too, the determination with which he pursued any project to the end when once his mind had been made up, we need not be surprised to find that a few months later in that year this resolute monarch again sent ships—this time a couple of barks of 120 and 90 tons respectively—“well manned and ordnanced” to scour the seas for these pirate pests that inflicted so many serious losses on the Tudor merchants.
A little earlier in that year Vaughan had written to Cromwell that he had spoken with one who lately had been a “common passenger” in hoys between London and Antwerp and knew of certain pirates who intended to capture the merchant ships plying between those two ports. Valuable warning was given concerning one of these roving craft. She belonged to Hans van Meghlyn, who had fitted out a ship of the “portage” of 20 lasts and 45 tons burthen. She was manned by a crew of thirty, her hull was painted black with pitch, she had no “foresprit,” and her foremast leaned forward like a “lodeman’s” boat. (“Lodeman” was the olden word for pilot—the man who hove the lead.) Cromwell was advised that this craft would proceed first to Orfordness (the natural landfall for a vessel to make when bound across the North Sea from the Schelde), and thence she would proceed south and lie in wait for ships at the mouth of the Thames. In order to be ready to pillage either the inward or outward bound craft which traded with London, this pirate would hover about off White Staple (Whitstable). Vaughan’s informant thought that sometimes, however, she would change her locality to the Melton shore in order to avoid suspicion, and he advised that it would be best to capture her by means of three or four well-manned oyster boats. There was also another “Easterling” (that is, one from the east of Germany or the Baltic) pirate who had received his commission from the Grave of Odenburg. This rover was named Francis Beme and was now at Canfyre with his ship, waiting for the Grave of Odenburg’s return from Brussels with money. But the warning news came in time, and in order to prevent the English merchant ships from falling into the sea-rovers’ hands, the former were ordered by proclamation to remain in Antwerp from Ash Wednesday till Easter.