As long as their forces had been occupied with the French war and the Highland rising, the English ministry had been powerless to check the depredations of the pirates, which had become intolerable both in the East and West Indies. Now Europe was at peace, and measures could be concerted to put a stop to the evil. As usual, the Peace of Utrecht was followed by an increase of piracy, through the privateersmen being thrown out of employment.

On the 5th September, 1717, a royal proclamation was published, offering a free pardon, to all pirates on the American coast surrendering within one year, for all piracies committed before the 5th January. As rewards for the capture of pirate ships, to every captain £100, to other officers £40, to petty officers £30, and to ordinary seamen £20 were to be paid on conviction of the offenders. To pirates, a reward of £200 was offered for the surrender of a pirate captain or commander before the 6th September, 1718. The effect of the proclamation, in conjunction with the measures taken in the Bahamas, was very great. By the 1st July, 1719, to which date the time of grace was extended, all but three or four of the most desperate rovers had retired from business. But against the most audacious of them more vigorous measures were necessary.

It was of little use to hunt down pirates at sea, so long as their haunts in the Bahamas and Madagascar were allowed to flourish, and, as the West Indian rovers were the most mischievous to European trade, the Bahamas were first taken in hand.

During the war, the Bahamas had been twice taken and plundered by the French and Spanish; all semblance of authority had disappeared, and it was estimated that there were upwards of two thousand pirates in and about Providence. In 1718, Captain Woodes Rogers leased the islands for twenty-one years, from the proprietors, and received a commission as Governor; he sailed, for Providence, with a naval force and powers to offer an amnesty to all who submitted. Five or six well-known pirate captains made their peace with the Government, and a number of their crews, though some of them went back to their old trade before long. England, La Buze, and others slipped away and made for Madagascar. A council was then formed, consisting of six of the adventurers and six of the inhabitants who had never been pirates themselves. This was followed by the submission of others; some were hung, and order of a sort was re-established in the Bahamas.

The coasts of Virginia and North Carolina were at this time beset by a number of pirates, the most notorious of whom was Edward Teach, alias Blackbeard, a Bristol man, who had begun his piratical career in the spring of 1717; the most sinister figure in the annals of piracy. Pirate captains were, as a rule, chosen by their crews, and if their conduct was unsatisfactory to the rovers, they were deposed and sometimes put to death or marooned; but Teach, as fearless as he was merciless, ruled his crew by terror. As an instance of his savage humour, it is related that on one occasion, in a drinking bout, he blew out the light and fired two pistols among his companions, wounding Israel Hands, his sailing master, severely. On being asked why he did it, he damned them, and said if he did not kill one of them now and then, they would forget who he was. So impressed were his crew with his wickedness, that they believed they carried the devil on board, who appeared at intervals among them as one of the crew, but could not be identified as belonging to the ship's company. Once he fought the Scarborough, a man-of-war of thirty guns, and beat her off. He boldly went ashore when he pleased, forcing the Governor of North Carolina to marry him, and to supply him with medicines for his crew. With his face covered with black hair, and a beard of extravagant length, fantastically tied up in ribbons, he presented a wild and truculent figure that was the terror of the coast.

An extract of a journal he kept, found after his death, is given by
Johnson—

"Such a day, Rum all out:—Our company somewhat sober: A damn'd confusion amongst us!—Rogues a plotting;—great talk of separation.—So I look'd sharp for a Prize;—such a day took one, with a great deal of Liquor on board, so kept the Company hot, damned hot, then all things went well again."

Eden, the Governor of North Carolina, was suspected of sharing in Teach's plunder, and his conduct was so suspicious that it could only be set down to dishonesty or to extreme pusillanimity; so, in their distress, the North Carolina planters sought the assistance of the Governor of Virginia. There were at this time two men-of-war, the Pearl and the Lime, lying in the James river, but their size was too great to permit of their searching the creeks and inlets frequented by Teach; therefore, two small sloops, without guns, were fitted out and placed under command of Maynard, first lieutenant of the Pearl. At the same time a proclamation was published in Virginia offering rewards for the apprehension of pirates, with a special reward of £100 for Teach. Though the whole had been planned with great secrecy. Teach received warnings from friends on shore, but paid no attention to them, and Maynard surprised him at anchor in a small inlet.

Teach cut his cable and tried to stand out to sea, but ran aground. Maynard anchored within half gunshot and set to work to lighten his sloops, while Teach roared out curses and threats, to which Maynard replied that he expected no quarter and would give none. Just as Maynard was ready to attack, Teach got afloat and bore down on the sloops, giving them a broadside that partially disabled one sloop, and killed or wounded twenty men in Maynard's. Nothing discouraged, Maynard kept his men under cover and ran the pirate aboard, and was at once attacked by Teach with fourteen men. Teach and Maynard met hand to hand, and there was a desperate encounter, Teach fighting like a ferocious animal at bay. Maynard's sword broke, but he was saved by one of his men coming to his assistance, and Teach at last fell dead on the deck of the sloop with twenty-five wounds. The second sloop, meanwhile, had boarded and captured the pirate ship, and Maynard sailed back to the James river with Teach's head at his bowsprit. Fifteen of the pirates were taken alive, of whom thirteen were hung.

A year after Teach's death there appeared on the American coast Bartholomew Roberts, a Welshman from Haverfordwest, who, for over two years, was the scourge of the American and African traders. It was said of him that he was a sober man who drank tea constantly, which made him an object of suspicion to his crew. His temperance did not prevent him from being the most wantonly wicked pirate who sailed the seas. In a Newfoundland harbour, on one occasion, he burned and sank twenty-one vessels, destroyed the fisheries and stages, and wrought all the havoc he could, out of pure wantonness. On another occasion, he captured a slaver with eighty slaves on board, and burned it, slaves and all, because it would cost too much time and trouble to unshackle the unfortunate wretches. At the same time, he was a man of order and method. He drew up a set of rules, to which his crew subscribed, in which, among other things, it was laid down that no women should be allowed on board; dice and gambling were prohibited; lights were put out at 8 o'clock; and musicians were exempt from playing on Sundays. The chaplain of Cape Coast Castle having been captured, he was pressed to join the pirates, being promised that nothing would be required of him except to make punch and say prayers. On his declining the office, all church property was restored to him "except three prayer books and a bottle-screw."