"23.—We now begin to approach to land. At eight o'clock two Teriffa (Barbary) boats came out after us, they fired at us which we returned as merrily. They were glad to get away as well as they could. We stood after one, but it is almost impossible to come up with the piratical dogs.
"Dec.—10.... In the morning we heard a firing and looked out in the Gut and there was a snow attacked by 3 of the piratical Teriffa boats. Two cutters in the Government service soon got under sail, 3 men-of-war that lay in the road manned their barges and sent them out, as did a privateer. We could now perceive her (the snow) to have struck, but they soon retook her. She had only four swivels and six or eight men.... They got some prisoners (of the pirates) but how many I cannot learn, which it is to be hoped will meet with their just reward which I think would be nothing short of hanging."
Tales of the resourcefulness of the foremast hands on the colonial vessels are of special interest here. As an example, consider that of the brig Sally, which turned bottom up while on her way from Philadelphia to Santo Domingo, on August 8, 1765. Six of the crew who were on deck saved themselves at first by clinging to such wreckage as floated beside the hull, and then, when the squall was over, climbed to the upturned keel. Then, to procure food and drink, they cut the wreath (a flat bar of iron encircling the mainmast head) from its place, using their jackknives, it may be supposed, and with that as a tool made a hole through the bottom of the hulk. It took six days of continuous labor, watch and watch, of course, but they succeeded, and got out a barrel of bottled beer and another of salt pork. During the six days of work they subsisted without water, and with no other food than the barnacles on the planking. Moreover, they built a platform of staves and shingles upon the sloping bottom of the hull, upon which they could sleep without danger of rolling into the sea. In this fashion they lived until September 1, twenty-three days, when they were rescued.
Of the lost rudders that were replaced with pieces of spare spars bound together with rope, and the small boats made by castaways who had nothing but barrel hoops and staves with canvas for planking, no more than mention need be made.
In the log of the sloop Adventure, Captain Francis Boardman, during a West India voyage, in 1774, are found the following entries:—
"This Morning I Drempt that 2 of my upper teeth and one Lower Dropt out and another Next the Lower one wore away as thin as a wafer and Sundry other fritful Dreams. What will be the Event of it I can't tell."
"this Blot I found the 17th. I can't tell, but Something Very bad is going to hapen me this Voyage. I am afeard but God onley Noes What may hapen on board the Sloop Adventure—the first Voyage of being Master."
There were terrors of the sea of which the masters were more "afeard" than they were of the "Teriffa" pirates, but, in spite of all, they held fast tack and sheet, continued on the course, and finally told in the log-book—at least Captain Boardman did—just what came after the dire portents. On arriving off Boston, Boardman wrote:—
"The End of this Voyage for wich I am very thankful on Acct. of a Grate Deal of Trouble by a bad mate. His name is William Robson of Salem. He was drunk most part of the voyage."
The Captain Richard Derby mentioned above was one of several generations of Salem Derbys that followed the sea with success. A letter written by him while at Gibraltar, in 1758, gives a good idea of the state of trade at that time:—