The ships and sailors of old Salem

by Ralph Delahaye Paine

“I am innocent in the presence of the Supreme Being of this Assembly, and of the Universe. I swear it and I desire the court will receive my memorial.”

The mate de Soto obtained a respite after telling the following story which investigation proved to be true:

He had been master of a vessel which made a voyage from Havana to Philadelphia in 1831, and was consigned to a “respectable house there.” During the return voyage to Havana he discovered the ship Minerva ashore on one of the Bahama reefs, and on fire. The passengers and crew were clinging to the masts and yards. He approached the wreck at great danger to himself and vessel and took off seventy-two persons, whom he carried safely to Havana. He was presented with a silver cup by the insurance office at Philadelphia as token of their appreciation of his bravery and self-sacrifice. The ship Minerva belonged in Salem, and the records showed that the rescue performed by de Soto had been even more gallant than he pictured it to the Court. For this service to humanity he escaped the death penalty for his later act of piracy and was subsequently pardoned by President Andrew Jackson.

When his comrades were called for sentence by Judge Story they showed the same firmness, self-possession and demeanor of innocence which had marked their conduct throughout the trial. The death sentence for the crime of piracy on the high seas was announced in these words:

“The sentence is that you and each of you, for the crime whereof you severally stand convicted, be severally decreed, taken and adjudged to be pirates and felons, and that each of you be severally hung by the neck until you be severally dead. And that the marshal of this District of Massachusetts or his Deputy, do on peril of what may fall thereon, cause execution to be done upon you and each of you severally on the 11th day of March next ensueing, between the hours of 9 and 12 of the same day; that you be now taken from hence to the jail in Boston in the District aforesaid, from whence you came; there or in some other safe and convenient jail within the District to be closely kept until the day of execution; and from thence to be taken on the day appointed for the execution as aforesaid to the place aforesaid; there to be hanged until you are severally dead. I earnestly recommend to each of you to employ the intermediate period in sober reflection upon your past life, and conduct, and by prayers and penitence and religious exercises to seek the favor of Almighty God for any sins and crimes which you may have committed. And for this purpose I earnestly recommend to you to seek the aid and assistance of the Ministers of our holy religion of the denominations of Christians to which you severally belong. And in bidding you, so far as I can presume to know, an eternal farewell, I offer up my earnest prayer that Almighty God may in his infinite goodness, have mercy on your souls.”

The Salem Gazette records that “after the sentence was read in English by the Judge, it was translated into Spanish. Captain Gibert did not waver a particle from his most extraordinary firmness of manner, and the commanding dignity of all his movements. The muscles of de Soto’s face quivered, and he seemed subdued. Castillo looked the same high scorn with which he appears to have regarded the whole proceeding. The rest gave no particular indication of their feelings. The Judge ordered the prisoners to be remanded and they were ironed and carried out of court, the crowd assembled being much excited by this moving scene. Immediately after pronouncing the sentence Judge Story left the court, appearing deeply affected by the painful duty which he has evidently most reluctantly performed under the highest sense of responsibility.”

The local chronicle thus closes the story of the piracy of the Mexican, six months after the trial:

“Five of the pirates, the captain and four of the crew were executed this morning at half past ten. We have already mentioned the temporary reprieve of the mate de Soto on account of rescuing the crew of an American vessel, and of Ruiz, the carpenter, on the score of insanity. They were accompanied to the gallows by a Spanish priest, but none of them made any confession or expressed any contrition. They all protested their innocence to the last. Last night Captain Gibert was discovered with a piece of glass with which he intended to commit suicide. And one of the men (Boyga) cut his throat with a piece of tin, and was so much weakened by loss of blood that he was supported to the gallows, and seated in a chair on the drop when it fell. It would seem from their conduct that they retained hopes of pardon to the last moment.”

De Soto, the mate, who escaped the noose, returned to Cuba and was for many years in the merchant marine in those waters. More than a generation after the Mexican affair, a Salem shipmaster, Captain Nicholas Snell, had occasion to take a steamer that traded between Havana and Matanzas. He had attended the trial of the pirates in Boston and he recognized the captain of the steamer as de Soto. The former buccaneer and the Salem captain became friends and before they parted de Soto related the story of the Pinda’s voyage. He said that he had shipped aboard her at Havana where she was represented as a slaver. Once at sea, however, he discovered that the Pinda was a pirate, and that he must share her fortune. He frankly discussed the capture of the Mexican, and threw an unholy light upon the character of Captain Gibert. The night after the capture the officers of the Pinda were drinking recklessly in the cabin, and one of the mates held up his glass of rum and shouted: “Here’s to the squirming Yankees.”

The captain had taken it for granted that the crew of the Mexican had been killed to a man before the brig was set on fire, and when the truth came out, he was fairly beside himself. With black oaths he sprang on deck, put his vessel about, and for two days cruised in search of the Mexican, swearing to slay every man on board if he could overhaul her in order to insure the safety of his own precious neck. In truth, that gale with thunder and lightning before which the Mexican drove all that thick night was seaman John Battis’ “intervention of Divine Providence.”