With the Quieda Merchant and Adventure he sailed once more for Madagascar, where he, unfortunately for himself, met with some Englishmen who knew him. Among them [pg 58]was a pirate named Culliford. When they met, they told him that they had been informed he was sent out to take them and hang them. Kidd laughed at their fears, and told them that they might look upon him as a brother, pledging them in wine. The Adventure was now old and leaky, and Kidd shifted his guns and stores to the prize. Here he acted fairly to his men, by dividing such of the cargo, &c., which was available; a number of them returned the compliment by deserting him, others remaining in the country, and some going on board Captain Culliford’s ship.
At Amboyna, where he touched soon afterwards, he learnt that his proceedings were understood in England, and that he had been declared a pirate. The fact was that questions had been asked in Parliament regarding the commission which had been given to him, and those who had fitted out the vessel. The discussion seemed to Lord Bellamont to bear hardly on him, and after Kidd’s execution, he published a pamphlet defending his course. But to stop the piracy so common in those days, a free pardon was offered to those pirates who had been engaged in the Eastern African waters who should surrender their persons any time prior to the 30th April, 1699. Kidd and Avery, the latter of whom we shall hereafter meet, were excepted distinctly in the proclamation. When Kidd left Amboyna he most certainly did not know this fact, or he would not have rushed into the lion’s jaw. Trusting to his money, and his influence with Lord Bellamont, he sailed for New York, where on arrival he was arrested with other of his companions, and sent to England for trial.
A solemn session of Admiralty was that which met at the Old Bailey, in May, 1701, when Captain Kidd and nine others were arraigned for piracy and robbery on the high seas. All were found guilty except three, who were proved to have been apprentices. Kidd was also tried for the murder of his gunner, and found guilty. The men pleaded variously, and two of them had undoubtedly surrendered themselves within the time limited by the proclamation. Colonel Bass, the Governor of West Jersey (now the state of New Jersey, adjoining that of New York), corroborated this statement. It was shown that they had not surrendered to a commission of four specially sent over for the purpose, and they were condemned to die. This was, as far as the writer can judge, a hard case. Another seaman, Darby Mullins, said in his defence that he served under the king’s commission, and had no right to disobey any commands of his superior officer; that, in fact, the men were never allowed to question his authority, because it would destroy all discipline; and that even if unlawful acts were committed, the officers were the persons to answer it, not the men. He was answered that serving as he did only entitled him to do that which was lawful, not that which was unlawful. He replied that the case of a seaman must be bad indeed, if he were punished in both cases, for obeying and for not obeying his officers, and that if he were allowed to dispute his superior’s orders, there would be no such thing as command on the high seas. This ingenious defence availed him nothing; he had taken a share of the plunder, and had mutinied, showing no regard to the commission; and further, had acted in accordance with the customs of pirates and freebooters. The jury brought him in guilty with the rest.
Kidd’s defence was not strong, as a matter of legal argument. He insisted that he had been more sinned against than sinning. He said that he went out on a laudable [pg 59]employment, and had no occasion, being then in good circumstances, to go a pirating; that the men had frequently mutinied, and that he had been threatened in his own cabin, and that ninety-five deserted him at one time and set fire to his boat, so that he was disabled from bringing his ship home, or the prizes he took, to have them regularly condemned, which prizes, he said, were taken under virtue of his commission, they having French passes (false). A witness, Colonel Hewson, spoke highly of his previous reputation for bravery. So much of his own statement was doubtful or false that he was found guilty. When the judge put on the black cap, Kidd stood up and said: “My lord, it is a very hard sentence. For my part I am the most innocent person of them all, and have been sworn against by perjured persons.” A week after the bodies of Kidd and six of his men were seen by the passers-by on the river, hanging high, suspended by chains, a warning especially to the seamen of and entering to the port of London not to turn pirates.
CHAPTER VI.
The Pirates of the Eighteenth Century.
Difference between the Pirates of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries—Avery’s brief Career—A Captain all at Sea—Capture of his Ship—Madagascar, a Rendezvous for Pirates—A Rich Prize—The Great Mogul’s Ship taken—Immense Spoils—The Great Mogul’s Rage—Avery’s Treachery—His Companions abandon their Evil Ways—The Water-rat beaten by Land-rats—Avery dies in abject Poverty—A Pirate Settlement on Madagascar—Roberts the Daring—Sails among a Portuguese Fleet, and selects the best Vessel for his Prey—His Brutal Destruction of Property—His End—Misson and Caraccioli—Communistic Pirates—Their Captures—High Morality and Robbery combined—Their Fates.
As we have seen, the seventeenth century presented innumerable examples of piracy on a grand scale. The eighteenth presents no examples of formidable organisations; on the contrary, each pirate, as a rule, worked for himself, and relied on the unaided strength of himself and crew. An example is afforded by Avery. Captain Avery’s brief career was, piratically considered, brilliant enough. In 1715 we find him mate of a vessel starting from Bristol, and designed for a privateer. The commander, Captain Gibson, was a convivial sailor, fond of his bottle, and in port was usually found ashore. On the evening on which the event about to be described took place, he was on board, but having taken his usual dose or doses of strong liquor, had retired to his berth. The crew not in the secret were also below, leaving on deck only a few conspirators with whom Avery had made a compact. At the time agreed some other conspirators came off in a long-boat, and Avery hailed them, and was answered in the following terms: “Is your drunken boatswain aboard?”—the watch-word previously arranged. Avery replied in the affirmative, and the boat, manned by sixteen stout fellows, came alongside, and in a few minutes the hatches were secured, and the ship put to sea. There were several vessels in port, and a Dutch skipper was offered a considerable reward to pursue Avery, but he declined. When Captain Gibson awoke he rang his bell, and Avery and one of the men going into the cabin, found [pg 60]him only half awake. He inquired what was the matter with the ship: “Does she drive? What weather is it?” He thought she was still in port. “No, no,” answered Avery; “we are at sea.” “At sea!” said the captain. “How is that?” “Come, come,” said Avery, “put on your clothes, and I’ll let you into a secret. You must know that I am captain now, and this is my cabin; therefore you must walk out!” He then explained his intentions of proceeding to Madagascar on a piratical venture. The captain was terribly frightened, but Avery reassured him by saying that he could either go ashore, or, if he chose to make one of them, and keep sober, he might in time be raised to the dignity of lieutenant. Gibson preferred the former alternative, and, with four or five men of the same mind, was put on shore.
Avery sailed for Madagascar, where he was joined by two sloops, the sailors on board which were themselves well inclined to his enterprise, having just before run away with the vessels from the East Indies. They sailed in company, and off the mouth of the Indus the man at the masthead espied a sail, and they gave chase. She was evidently a fine tall vessel, possibly an East Indiaman. She proved something better, for, when they fired a shot at her, she hoisted Mogul colours, and appeared ready for a fight. The sloops first attacked, with Avery for a support. The men of the sloops attacked on either quarter, and boarded her; she immediately afterwards struck her colours. She was one of the Great Mogul’s own ships, having on board many distinguished persons of his own court, including one of his daughters, going on a pilgrimage to the Holy City, Mecca. They were carrying with them rich offerings to present at the shrine of Mahomet. They were travelling in full Eastern magnificence, with retinues and slaves, immense sums of money, jewellery, and plate. The spoil which they obtained was immense, and after rifling the ship of everything valuable, the pirates allowed her to depart. The news soon reached the Great Mogul, and he was so enraged that he threatened to extirpate the English on the Indian coast. The East India Company had enough to do to pacify him, and only succeeded in doing so by promising to use every endeavour to punish the pirates. Avery’s name and fame soon after reached Europe, and, as might have been expected, all kinds of wild fables were circulated concerning him.