A little before noon next morning four strange sails were seen in the offing, which, before long, were made out to be the dreaded Madagascar pirates, with the Cassandra, Victory, and two prizes they had just taken. The sight of them struck Brown with terror, though a little reflection would have shown him that the pirates would have little or no inducement to attack armed ships carrying no valuable merchandise. He directed his whole squadron to anchor off Gheriah, which must have appeared puzzling to his late antagonists in that place. Hoping to evade the pirate ships, anchor was weighed in the night, and the squadron sailed northward, no order being preserved, and the fleet getting much scattered.
As it happened, the pirates had mistaken them for Angria's fleet, and were standing to the northward in search of prey, without any thought of attacking them. Without any hostile intention on either side, the two squadrons became intermingled. While it was still dark, the party on the London was startled by a cannon shot flying over them, and in the faint morning light they saw a large ship on their quarter. On hailing to ask her name, an answer came back that it was the Victory. Brown preferred to believe that it was his own ship of that name; but his answering hail, giving the name of the London, was replied to with a broadside, to which a smart fire was returned by the Revenge and the Defiance, that were close astern. On both sides there was no willingness to fight. The pirates were at first seized with consternation at discovering their mistake; they had turned their prizes adrift after throwing their sails overboard, and, with only three hundred men for their joint crews, forty of them negroes, were not strong enough to engage the Bombay squadron. But England was a man who preferred fighting to running, so putting a bold face on the matter, the Cassandra ran through the fleet, firing into the Victory, the Chandos, and the Phram. The Chandos, which was towing the Phram, at once cast it loose. The fleet scattered in all directions, like a flock of sheep when a strange dog runs through it. Upton, of the London, a chicken-hearted fellow, persuaded Brown that they ought not to engage, as Boone had sent them to attack Gheriah, but had given them no instructions about the Madagascar pirates. Brown seemingly did not want much persuading, and crowded all sail to escape; at the same time striking his flag to show that he did not intend fighting, which excited the indignation of his own sailors and the derision of the pirates. He next sent orders by a gallivat for the Phram to be burned, and thus that useless machine, from which so much had been expected; and that had cost so much money and labour, came to an end.
These foolish proceedings gave England the measure of his antagonists. 'Observing the indifferency of the fleet,' the best way of saving himself was, he thought, to 'play the Bull-beggar' with them; so he set to work to chase them northward. The superior sailing powers of the pirates enabled them to do as they pleased.
When they overtook the rearmost of the ships Brown had still got with him, they backed their sails and fired into them till they had got well ahead again. In this ignominious fashion the greater part of the fleet was shuffled along for two days by the pirates, as a flock of sheep is driven by a couple of sheep-dogs, till they at last found refuge in Goa. The soldiers on board the London improved the occasion by breaking into the 'Lazaretto' and getting drunk on the wine they found there. Part of the fleet made for Carwar, and others found safety under the guns of Anjediva. The pirates, having effected their purpose of driving them off, turned south and took the Elizabeth at anchor off Honore.
Before long, an indignant letter from Boone ordered Brown to cruise southward and engage the pirates at all hazards; so the unhappy Brown put to sea again. The news of the capture of the Elizabeth was enough for him: on the third day he turned northward again and made for Bombay; to make his peace with the exasperated Governor as he best could. It is not difficult to imagine Boone's disgust at the failure of his schemes, and the worthlessness of those he had to depend upon; but it must be admitted that these desultory attacks, first on one place and then on another, were not calculated to effect anything useful. Had he concentrated his efforts on Kennery, he might have rendered the waters of Bombay more secure.
Brown laid the blame of his failure on the disobedience of his officers, which had been so flagrant as to conceal his own incapacity; so, on the 12th December, Boone again despatched him to search for the pirates, and give protection to the country vessels bringing up pepper from the southern factories. He took with him a fine squadron: the Greenwich, 42 guns; the Chandos, 40 guns; the Victory, 26 guns; the Britannia, 24 guns; the Revenge, 16 guns; and a fireship. The pusillanimous Upton was left behind, and, next to himself in command of the expedition, but in reality the moving spirit, he took the gallant Macrae. England and Taylor had meanwhile been constrained to run down to the Laccadives, for want of water and provisions. Not getting what they wanted, they had come northward again to Cochin, where they were royally entertained by the Dutch authorities. They were supplied with everything they required, including a present, from the Governor, of a boat loaded with arrack, and sixty bales of sugar, for all of which handsome payment was made, while handfuls of duccatoons were thrown into the boat for the boatmen to scramble for. A fine clock and gold watch, found in the Cassandra when captured, were sent as a present to the Governor's daughter, and formal salutes were fired on both sides as they entered and left the harbour. No wonder that they were made welcome along the coast. On leaving Cochin, they took a small vessel from Tellicherry sailing under a Bombay pass. From the master they learned that the Bombay squadron, with Macrae in command, was cruising in search of them. They were roused to fury by this news of Macrae's 'ingratitude,' and vied with each other in devising the tortures to which they would subject him if he fell into their hands again, while their anger was vented on England and all who had stood up for Macrae after the capture of the Cassandra. Before long they were sighted by Brown, who bore down on them and signalled them to heave to. This behaviour, so different from their previous experiences, was little to their liking. They made sail for the southwards, and, for two days, were held in chase, till by superior sailing they lost their pursuers.
Such an extraordinary change in the behaviour of the Bombay squadron taught them that the Indian coast was no longer a safe place for honest rovers. It was expedient to take themselves elsewhere: so sail was made for Mauritius. Against Macrae their curses were loud and deep. A villain they had treated so well as to give him a ship and other presents, and now to be in arms against them! No fate was bad enough for such a man. They had been cruelly deceived. To appease their wrath they turned upon England. But for his foolish championship of Macrae, this would not have happened. Taylor had been right all along. They would only follow him in future. In their rage they first talked of hanging England, till more moderate counsels prevailed, and it was decided to maroon him at Mauritius, which was done. England and three others who had befriended Macrae were set on shore, among them, no doubt, the one-legged pirate, and in due course of time made their way over to St. Mary's.[5]
At St. Mary's the command of the Victory was made over to Oliver La Bouche, or La Buze, whose efforts at shipbuilding had apparently not met with success, and the two ships, in company, before long took what was probably the richest prize that ever fell into pirate hands. The ex-Viceroy of Goa, the Conde de Ericeira, had sailed for Lisbon, in January, in the Nostra Senhora de Cabo, a seventy-gun ship, taking with him a rich consignment of jewels for the Portuguese Government, and the proceeds of his own private trading during the three years of his viceroyalty. Off the Cape they encountered a heavy storm, which dismasted the ship, forced them to throw many of their guns overboard, and obliged them to put back to Bourbon to refit. Taylor and La Buze, learning the helplessness of the Viceroy's ship, sailed into the anchorage under English colours. A salute from the Viceroy's ship was answered with a shotted broadside, and, in the confusion that ensued, the Portuguese ship was boarded and carried almost without resistance. Seldom or never had such a prize fallen into pirate hands so easily. The booty in diamonds and money was in the shape most coveted by the rovers. The jewels alone were estimated at over three million dollars. The hard cash was said to be five hundred thousand crowns, and the Viceroy was forced to raise another two thousand crowns as a personal ransom, which would have been higher, had he not convinced them that part of the jewels and money on board was his own property.
Bourbon was a French possession, but the Governor, M. Desforges, was obliged to observe une grande circonspection in his dealings with the pirates who came and went as they pleased. Bernardin de St. Pierre, who visited Bourbon nearly fifty years later, repeats a tradition, how La Buze sat at table between the Viceroy and the Governor, and in an access of generosity remitted the Viceroy's ransom. He further tells us that La Buze eventually settled down in the island, and was hung some years later.
Taylor, continuing his cruise in the Cassandra, took a fine Ostend ship, and carried her to St. Mary's. While most of the pirates were on shore, the prisoners overpowered the few left to guard them, and carried off the ship. We get a last glimpse of the Cassandra in a private letter written to the Directors in May, 1723, from Jamaica, in which it is stated that the Cassandra was lying at Portobello, while Taylor was engaged in negotiating with the captain of an English man-of-war for a pardon. The negotiations apparently fell through, as Taylor was eventually given a commission by the Spaniards. The letter relates how the crew boasted that they had, each man, twelve hundred pounds in gold and silver, besides a great store of diamonds and many rich goods. Of the sharing of these diamonds, Johnson tells a story how one man, being given for his share one big diamond instead of a number of small ones, broke it up with a hammer, so that he might have as many 'sparks' as the others.