Pirates and Piracy

by Oscar Herrmann

One must not form the impression, however, that this reckless lawlessness was attended with insubordination or lack of discipline. On the contrary, they were rigorously governed by an iron hand and by the unwritten “code of honor.” A pirate entered upon “the account” (a term meaning piracy) by taking the oath of fealty to the cause, abjuring all social ties, pledging himself never to desert his ship or defraud his comrades or steal anything belonging to his fellows. Having thus bound him by an oath firm and dreadful in its malediction upon any violation of its terms, the organization is completed by the selection of a captain, who, usually, is the strongest, bravest, and most desperate of them all, well calculated to keep the crew in subjection. Mutiny and the spirit of insubordination frequently raised its ominous growl, to be quelled only by the fearlessness of the captain and his ability to keep his men in abject fear of his commands. It held the men in the thralls of hypnotism, and in its efficaciousness depended the safety of the captain and his “loyal” adherents. With some crews the title Captain did not convey autocratic power nor dictatorial prerogatives, his power to command absolutely being confined only to times of combat. A usurpation of power frequently brought death as a deterrent to any aspiring successor. In those cases where the captain was not recognized as the sole ruler, each man had a vote in affairs of moment, and had an undivided interest and title in all booty.

It can readily be understood how valueless the cast-iron oath of the pirate must be when occasion makes its rejection convenient, and thus apparent dissatisfaction with the captain or with his commands have frequently caused those secret plottings below decks, resulting in open revolt or mutiny:—[13]pirate against pirate, brute force matched against brute force for power and supremacy. The severest punishment to a member of the crew for thieving from a fellow-pirate was marooning—slitting the ears and nose and depositing the offender upon some desolate island or lonely shore with but few provisions and limited ammunition. Life was little prized, for death had no terrors, and life beyond this world entered not into their calculations. Their fearlessness and courage was splendidly exampled when Captain Teach, alias Black Beard, appeared off Charleston in the year 1717 and sent word to the Governor of the colony to send out to him at once a certain number of medicine chests, in failure of which the port would be blockaded by his single vessel, and all persons on board in-going and out-going ships killed and their heads sent to the Governor as proof of the execution of the threat. He also threatened to set all ships on fire. It illustrates clearly in what dread these sea marauders were held in those times, when we learn that the Governor immediately complied with the demands and the embargo was raised. It is recorded that in moments of defeat pirates voluntarily have set fire to their powder magazines and thus were blown to destruction rather than plead for mercy. During long cruises, when no ships upon the horizon line varied the monotony of the daily routine, pastimes were invented, each one out-rivalling the other in sheer wickedness. Captain Teach considered it rare sport to lock his men in the ship’s hold and then set sulphur afire to ascertain how long they could withstand asphyxiation. Yet his greatest “bravery” was displayed (and herein he developed commendable Spartan fortitude) when he married fourteen times with a fearlessness highly worthy of a better purpose! His wickedness was as great as his fearlessness was unbounded, but wickedness was voted manly in a pirate and assured the esteem and admiration of his comrades.

With the progression of events and the growth of commerce, piracy waned, and gradually the black flag which had so long swept the Spanish Main was furled and drooped into the sea over which it had so long defiantly floated. The European governments made many futile attempts to check the rapid development of the unlawful enterprise, and many expeditions were successful, resulting in the trial, condemnation, and execution of the outlaws on land.

In England a proclamation of amnesty was issued, insuring freedom and rights of citizenship to all who renounced their calling—a privilege which many accepted, only to find their blood fire and yearn for the wild, aimless, and adventurous roaming on the seas, which gradually drew them back to their calling and away from the restraints of civilization. The capture of a pirate meant death, and, as no practicable defence was available, the prisoners usually entrenched themselves behind the plea that they were kidnapped or shanghaied and were compelled to enter into piracy for the preservation of their lives. But piracy, with its harrowing gruesomeness, its boldness and daring, its romance and adventure, its plunder and murder, its conflicts and reprisals, is a spectre of the past, and now is chiefly confined to the rivers and harbors of the Far East and Northern Africa. It has lost the glamor and enchanting, romantic atmosphere which pervaded the career of Captain Kidd and made him the worshipped hero of every school-boy, or which inspired the pen of a Scott, of an Edgar Allan Poe or Frank R. Stockton, or put the charm to the tales of W. Clark Russell, for pirates and piracy are now dead, and live ingloriously only in the pages of chronicling history.

PIRATES’ SONG.

To the mast nail our flag! It is dark as the grave,
Or the death which it bears while it sweeps o’er the wave.
Let our deck clear for action, our guns be prepared;
Be the boarding-axe sharpened, the scimiter bared.
Set the canisters ready, and then bring to me,
For the last of my duties, the powder-room key.
It shall never be lowered, the black flag we bear;
If the sea be denied us, we sweep through the air.
Unshared have we left our last victory’s prey;
It is mine to divide it, and yours to obey:
There are shawls that might suit a sultana’s white neck,
And pearls that are fair as the arms they will deck;
There are flasks which, unseal them, the air will disclose
Diametta’s fair summers, the home of the rose.
I claim not a portion; I ask but as mine.
’Tis to drink to our victory one cup of red wine.
Some fight, ’tis for riches; some fight, ’tis for fame:
The first I despise, and the last is a name.
I fight, ’tis for vengeance! I love to see flow,
At the stroke of my sabre, the life of my foe.
I strike for the memory of long-vanished years;
I only shed blood where another shed tears.
I come as the lightning comes, red from above,
O’er the race that I loathe, to the battle I love.