Captain William Kidd and Others of the Buccaneers

by John S. C. Abbott

The admiral, well aware of the ferocious courage of the pirates, and not doubting that they would make a desperate assault upon the fort on the land side, immediately, and in the greatest haste, removed their eighteen-pounders to command the approaches by the land. In this way the sea-coast was left almost defenceless.

The ensuing night the moon rose full-orbed over the silent waters of the lake. A fresh breeze sprang up from the south. Providence seemed to be favoring these desperate men. The tide was also in their favor. And there was always a gentle current flowing through the narrow strait from the lake into the gulf.

Thus, with their path illumined by the moon’s brilliant rays, and aided by wind, tide, and current, the pirates spread their sails, and, almost as by magic, glided by the fort. Every precaution was taken to protect the crews. No attempt was made to return the fire of the Spaniards. Most of the crews were placed in the holds of the ships. Only enough were left on deck for the purpose of navigation. The Spaniards, astonished, bewildered, and with but few guns at their command, fired hastily, furiously, and with very inaccurate aim at the ships so rapidly passing beyond their grasp. But little damage was done, and but few men were killed.

We are not informed whether Morgan carried out his threat of exposing his prisoners to the cannonade by binding them to the rigging. What became of the one hundred and fifty Spanish sailors, is not known. They were probably all put to death. The prisoners from Maracaibo he sent ashore. Those from Gibraltar he carried away with him, and probably relieved himself of the incumbrance by throwing them all into the sea. As Morgan again set sail, his crews raised three cheers of triumph, and discharged eight heavy guns, loaded with balls, against the fort, as his parting salute.

But the very next day, heaven’s frown seemed to succeed heaven’s smile. One of the most terrible of tropical tornadoes assailed the fleet. All were in despair. The sailors threw themselves upon their knees, and called upon the Virgin and all the saints to help them. The gleaming lightning seemed to be the symbol of God’s wrath, and the pealing thunder sounded like His angry voice.

Esquemeling, who accompanied this expedition, and to whose pen we are mainly indebted for an account of its events, says that the ship which bore him lost both anchors and mainsail. It was with the utmost difficulty they kept the ship afloat, working at the pumps for weary hours. The thunder he represents as deafening, and the mountain billows, rushing by, threatened every moment to ingulf them.

“Indeed,” he writes, “though worn out with fatigue and toil, we could not make up our minds to close our eyes to that blessed light which we might soon lose sight of forever. No hope of safety remained. The storm had lasted four days, and there was no probability of its termination. On the one side we saw rocks, on which our vessel threatened every instant to drive. Before us were the Indians, from whom we could hope for no mercy. Behind us were the Spaniards, hungering for revenge.”

At length the storm ceased. The fleet put into a harbor, in the Bay of Venezuela, to repair damages. There seems to be but little reformatory power in punishment. These wretched men were not made better by the chastisement which they had received. All unmindful of their prayers to Virgin and saint, while some were at work on the ships, others formed themselves into bands to ravage the country far and wide, plundering all the Spanish and Indian villages within their reach, and inflicting the most atrocious outrages upon the inhabitants. It is very clear that there is no hope for this lost world, unless it may be found in that change in the heart of man which the religion of Jesus Christ inculcates. “The mind is its own place.” The pirates after the storm were the same men as before.

Morgan, having refitted his ships, and having added very considerably to his amount of plunder again spread his sails for Kingston, the capital of Jamaica. He reached that port in safety, and was very cordially welcomed by the inhabitants and the British authorities there. They seemed to regard him as one of the heroes of the age, worthy of all honor. The sentiments of the English generally, at that time, in reference to these exploits, may be inferred from the following:

In a book published in London, in the year 1684, and which now lies before me, a glowing account is given of these adventures. The book had then attained to a second edition. The title-page says: