A little later we find a remarkable pirate on the field of action. Captain Bartholomew Roberts seems at first to have been really averse to the line of life to which he afterwards took so kindly. When his commander, Captain Davis, a pirate, died, the crew, in solemn conclave, selected Roberts. He accepted the dignity, and told them that “since he had dipped his hands in muddy water, and must be a pirate, it was better being a commander than a private.” Very shortly afterwards he captured two vessels, the first Dutch and the second English. The crew of the latter joined him, and emptied and burned the vessel. On the Brazilian coast they were not successful, but among the West Indian Islands they encountered a fleet of forty-two sail of Portuguese ships, waiting for two men-of-war to convoy them. Roberts, with his one little vessel, determined to have one or more of them, and he sailed among the fleet, keeping the larger part of his men concealed. He steered his ship almost alongside one of them, hailed her, and ordered her master to come on board quietly, threatening to give no quarter if the least resistance were made, or even if a signal of distress were displayed. The Portuguese, perceiving a sudden flash of cutlasses on board the pirate ship—a coup de théâtre arranged by Roberts—submitted at once. The newly-fledged pirate saluted the captain courteously, and told him that he should go scot-free if he indicated which was the richest ship in the fleet. He gladly pointed to a large vessel, and, although very much superior in size and apparent strength to his own, made towards her, carrying with him the poor Portuguese captain, for reasons which will at once appear. Coming alongside, Roberts made his unwilling prisoner ask in Portuguese how Seignior Capitano did, and to invite him on board, as he had a matter of great importance to impart. He was answered in the affirmative, but Roberts perceiving an unusual movement on board, and expecting that they meant to give him a broadside, forestalled them by pouring in a shower of shot, and then grappled, boarded, and took her. She proved herself a rich prize, laden with tobacco, sugar, skins, and a goodly number of golden moidores. Roberts was not long in securing the better part of her cargo, and speedily sailed away.
After touching at various points, they sailed for Newfoundland, entering the harbour of Trepassi with the black flags flying, and drums and trumpets sounding. The original account says that there were twenty-two “ships” lying there, but it probably means large fishing boats. The men aboard abandoned them, and the pirates burnt or sunk them all, besides doing enormous damage ashore. Roberts here took a small Bristol vessel, which he fitted and manned for his own service. Shortly afterwards he destroyed ten French “ships” (probably meaning, as before, large fishing boats) on the banks of Newfoundland, and after that a number of prizes of more value. At Martinique it had been the custom of Dutch traders, when they approached the island, to hoist their jacks. Roberts knew the signal, and imitated it, and the poor people believing that a profitable market was at hand, vied with each other who should first row out to the ship. As they one by one approached he fired into and sunk them, determined to do them as much damage as possible. This was in retaliation; he had heard that some cruisers had been sent out to punish him.
But the end of this brute was at hand. One morning, soon after leaving Martinique, while he was at breakfast, he was informed that a man-of-war was at hand. He took little notice, and his men were undetermined whether she was a Portuguese ship or a French vessel. As she came nearer, she, however, hoisted English colours, and proved to be the Swallow, a man-of-war of no inconsiderable size. Roberts knew his danger, but determined to get clear, or die in the attempt. A man on board, who was a deserter from the Swallow, informed him that she sailed best upon the wind, and that the pirate-ship should, therefore, go before it. The resolution was made to pass close to the Swallow under all sail, and to receive her broadside before they returned a shot; if seriously injured, to run on the shore to which they were close; or, should both fail, to blow up together, and balk the enemy. The greater part of his men were at this time drunk, for they had captured a quantity of liquor not long before, and their brandy-courage was likely to prove of the Dutch order. Roberts was determined to die game, and dressed himself in his best uniform—a rich crimson damask waistcoat and breeches, and a red feather in his hat, a gold chain and diamond cross, two pairs of pistols in a silk sling hung over his shoulders, and his sword in hand. In short, he was just the typical kind of showy pirate of whom boys delight to read.
The Swallow approached, and poured in her fire; Roberts hoisted the black flag, and passed her with all sail. But for a fatal mistake he might have got clear away; but either by bad steering, or in not keeping his vessel before the wind, she again came up very near him. He was preparing for action, when a grape-shot struck him directly in the throat, and he fell back dead on the tackles of a gun. The man at the helm, one Stephenson, not at first thinking he was wounded, swore at him, and upbraided him as a coward; but, almost immediately afterwards, when he found that his captain was indeed dead, burst into tears, and wished himself dead. The pirate-ship almost immediately surrendered. His men threw his body overboard, with all his finery and arms on, as he had repeatedly ordered during his lifetime. Thus, at about forty years of age, perished a brave and daring, though utterly reckless and unprincipled, man, who, under better auspices, might have been of the greatest service to his country.
DEATH OF “CAPTAIN” ROBERTS.
One of the most remarkable pirates of the century was Captain Misson, who commenced life in the French navy. When on leave at Rome he met one Caraccioli, a priest, who had imbibed some peculiar religious and social views, and who was afterwards, through his influence, admitted on board the man-of-war on which he was then serving. Both on several occasions showed a considerable amount of bravery. Caraccioli was a very ambitious man, and freely aired his peculiar ideas before both his friend Misson and the crew. His social views were of the communistic order; he believed that every man had as much right to that which would properly support him as to the air he breathed, and that wealth and poverty were both wrong, and that the world needed remodelling. It will be understood that he considered himself one of the men to do it, and was by no means strict in his regard for the rightful property of others. In a word, he meant to reform as much of the world as possible by means of piracy!
So far, however, both men were serving in the legitimate navy of France, but an opportunity occurred of which they made the most. Off Martinique, their vessel, the Victoire, [pg 65]encountered an English man-of-war, the Winchelsea, and a smart engagement followed, during which the French captain and his four principal officers were killed. The master (presumably the navigating officer) would have struck, but Misson took up the sword, ordering Caraccioli to act as lieutenant, and, encouraging his men, fought for three hours, when the powder-magazine of the Winchelsea exploded, and only one man, who died shortly afterwards, was saved for the moment. After this unexpected termination, Caraccioli came to Misson, saluting him as captain, and, in a very French manner, reminding him what Mahomet and Darius had become from very small beginnings, showed him how he might become sovereign of the Southern Seas, and enjoy a life of liberty. Misson, who probably did not need a great deal of convincing, agreed, and calling all hands together, told them that any who would not follow his fortunes should be set ashore at places whence they might easily return to France, but recommended them to adopt the freebooter’s life. One and all cried, “Vive le Capitaine Misson et son Lieutenant le savant Caraccioli,” and the Victoire was at once transformed from a vessel of the royal navy of France to a pirate-ship.
The crew selected their officers; and then came the question as to what colours they should fight under. The boatswain advised black, as the most terrifying. Caraccioli strenuously opposed this, saying that they were no pirates, but men who were resolved to assert that liberty which nature had given them, and own no subjection to any one, further than for the common good of all; that they would wage war on the immensely rich, and defend the wretched. In short, he defined his mission as a kind of piratical knight-errantry. [pg 66]He was to be the Don Quixote of the ocean. He advised that, as they did not proceed upon the same grounds with pirates, who were men of dissolute lives and no principles, they should not adopt their colours. “Ours,” said he, “is a brave, a just, an innocent, and a noble cause—the cause of liberty.” He advised a white ensign, with the motto “For God and liberty” inscribed upon it. The valuable property on board was put under lock and key, for the general benefit. When the plate belonging to the late captain was going to the chest, the men unanimously voted it for Misson’s use. Misson then spoke to the assembled crew; and the observations of this moral robber are worthy of note. He said that, “since they had resolved unanimously to seize upon and defend their liberty, which ambitious men had usurped, and that this could not be esteemed by impartial judges other than a brave and just resolution, he was under an obligation to recommend to them a brotherly love to each other, the banishment of all private piques and grudges, and a strict agreement and harmony among themselves; that in throwing off the yoke of tyranny, of which the action spoke abhorrence, he hoped none would follow the example of tyrants, and turn his back upon justice; for when equity was trodden under foot, misery, confusion, and distrust naturally followed. He also advised them to remember that there was a Supreme Being, the adoration of whom reason and gratitude prompted us to, and our own interest would engage us ... to conciliate; that he was satisfied that men born and bred in slavery, by which their spirits were broken and made incapable of so generous a way of thinking; who, ignorant of their birthright, and the sweets of liberty, dance to the music of their chains—which was, indeed, the greater part of the inhabitants of the globe—would brand this generous crew with the invidious name of pirates, and think it meritorious to be instrumental in their destruction. Self-preservation, therefore, and not a cruel disposition, obliged him to declare war against all such as should refuse the entry of their ports, and against all who should not immediately surrender and give up what their necessities required; but in a more particular manner against all European ships and vessels as concluded implacable enemies. And I do now,” said he, “declare such war, and at the same time recommend to you, my comrades, a humane and generous disposition towards your prisoners, which will appear by so much more the effects of a noble soul, as we are satisfied we should not meet the same treatment should our ill-fortune, or more properly our disunion, or want of courage, give us up to their mercy.”
And strangest of all to tell, the pirate kept very closely to his creed. If he took a small vessel, he would often let it go, after taking from the crew their ammunition, or some comparatively trifling matters; he was generous with his prisoners, and always spared life, except in open fighting. Compared with some of the pirates whose lives have been recorded in these pages he was an angel of light. Perhaps nothing will better exemplify this than his conduct after taking a large Dutch ship, the Nieuwstadt, which had on board seventeen slaves and some gold-dust. He ordered them to be clothed, and told his men that trading in those of our own species could never be right. He ordered them to be divided among the messes, that they might sooner learn the French language. The Dutch prisoners soon developed their latent tendencies for hard swearing and drinking; and Misson found that his own men were becoming demoralised. He addressed them all on board, and gave them a most serious lecture on the sin of swearing.