Among the officers of the Duke were three lieutenants and three mates. Of the latter, John Ballet, third mate, was designated surgeon if occasion arose, he having been “Captain Dampier’s Doctor in his last unfortunate voyage round the world.” This department was further strengthened by the inclusion of Dover’s kinsman, Samuel Hopkins, an Apothecary, who was to act as Dover’s lieutenant “if we landed a party.” In addition two young lawyers, George Underhill and John Parker, were borne upon the ship’s books, “designed to act as midshipmen.” Among the officers of the Dutchess under Captain Courtney, was Rogers’s young brother, John, who sailed as second-lieutenant.
The instructions given by the owners were embodied in a document, which Rogers solemnly calls the “Constitution,” which was signed and sealed at Bristol on the 14th of July, 1708. This document not only stipulated the exact powers of the various officers, but laid down a definite rule that “all attempts, attacks, and designs upon the enemy” should at first be debated by a general council of the officers, and the same applied to all “discontents, differences, or misbehaviour.” The wisdom of this procedure was apparent from the first, and Rogers states that without this method “we could never have performed the voyage.”
And so, within three weeks of the signing of the Constitution, Rogers and his merry men sailed from the King Road, near Bristol, on August the 2nd, on what proved to be one of the most successful voyages that ever left the shores of Great Britain. His crew consisted for the most part of “Tinkers, Taylors, Hay-makers, Pedlers, Fiddlers, etc.,” not forgetting John Finch “late wholesale oilman of London,” as ship’s steward, and the ship’s mascot, a fine specimen of an English bull-dog. Though the composition of the crew was Gilbertian in the extreme, its spirit, as we shall see, was in the main, Elizabethan.
“Most of us, the chief officers,” says Rogers, “embraced this trip of privateering round the world, to retrieve the losses we had sustained by the enemy,” and the opportunity soon offered itself. Proceeding down the Bristol Channel with a fair wind and bound for Cork, they saw a large ship, but after three hours’ chase lost sight of her. This was probably fortunate for Rogers, for he records that his ships were “out of trim,” and that in his own ship there were “not twenty sailors.” After several minor adventures Cork was reached on the 6th, where the provisioning of the ships was completed by Mr. Noblett Rogers, brother of one of the owners. Here Rogers succeeded in shipping some good sailors, and clearing out the useless ones, “being ordinary fellows, and not fit for our employment.” The defects in the rigging of the ships were now made good, and they were also careened and cleaned. During this enforced stay in Cork Harbour, we get a glimpse of the lighter side of a sailor’s life. Though they expected to sail immediately, the crew we are informed “were continually marrying.” Among others, Rogers tells an amusing story of a Danish seaman who married an Irish woman, “without understanding a word of each other’s language, so that they were forced to use an interpreter.” While the rest “drank their Cans of flip till the last minute” and “parted unconcerned,” the Dane “continued melancholy for several days” after the ships sailed. Sweethearts and wives were finally left behind on September 1st, when the Duke and Dutchess in company with about 20 merchant ships, and escorted by the Hastings man-of-war, under the command of Captain Paul,[11] shaped their course for the Canary Islands.
And now having left British waters, with a “mixed gang,” as Rogers dubbed his crew, “we hope to be well manned, as soon as they have learnt the use of arms, and got their sea legs, which we doubted not soon to teach them, and bring them to discipline.” The holds of both the Duke and Dutchess were full of provisions; the between decks were crowded with cables, bread, and water-casks, and whereas on leaving Bristol they had only a crew of 225 all told, they now had a total of 334, so we can quite agree with Rogers when he says they were “very much crowded and pestered ships.” Under such circumstances Rogers was no doubt glad to sail under the protection of a man-of-war.
Strange as it may seem things were not so bad as Rogers thought, and after chasing a small vessel he records with evident satisfaction, that the Duke and Dutchess “sailed as well as any in the fleet, not excepting the man-of-war.” Prior to parting company with Captain Paul the crews were mustered in order to acquaint them with the design of the expedition, and to give an opportunity of sending home any “malcontents” in the Hastings. All professed themselves satisfied, excepting one poor fellow on the Duke, who expected to have been “the Tything-man that year in his parish,” and whose lament was that his wife “would be obliged to pay forty shillings in his absence.” However, when he saw all the rest willing, and knew the prospect of plunder, he became “easily quieted,” and in common with the others drank heartily to the success of the voyage.
Six days after leaving Cork the ships parted company with the Hastings, and as a farewell gift Captain Paul gave them “Scrubbers, Iron Scrapers for our ship’s bottom, a speaking trumpet, and other things that we wanted.” By this time Rogers was beginning to get his ships into trim and all provisions, etc., properly stowed, they hitherto “having been in some confusion, as is usual in Privateers at first setting out.” Taking into consideration the length of the voyage, the different climates they would pass, and the excessive cold “going about Cape Horne,” it was resolved to stop at Madeira to replenish their slender stock of “liquor.” It was Pepys who wrote that “seamen love their bellies above anything else,” and Rogers was of the opinion that “good liquor to sailors is preferable to clothing.”
In spite of the assurances of his crew a few days earlier, a mutiny now occurred on board his ship. He and his consort had chased and overhauled a vessel flying Swedish colours, believed to be carrying contraband goods. Nothing however was found to prove her a prize, and Rogers let her go “without the least embezzlement,” for which courtesy the master gave him “two hams, and some ruff-dryed beef,” and the compliment was returned with “a dozen bottles of red-streak Cyder.” This much incensed the crews of the Duke and Dutchess who had no idea of the perils of privateering without the sweets of plunder, and under the leadership of the boatswain of the Duke several of them mutinied. The situation looked ugly, but Rogers, who was a born commander, quickly quelled it, putting ten of the mutineers in irons, while the boatswain, “the most dangerous fellow,” was shipped in the Crown galley, then in company, to be carried to Madeira in irons. Five days later the prisoners were “discharged from their irons,” upon their humble submission and strict promises for their future good behaviour.
Contrary to arrangements it was decided to pass by Madeira, there being “little wind,” and to “cruise a little among the Canary Islands for liquor.” On the 18th of September they chased and captured a small Spanish bark with forty-five passengers on board, who were relieved when they found that their captors were English and not Turks. Among them were four friars, one of whom, “a good honest fellow,” Rogers and his officers made “heartily merry, drinking King Charles III’s health”: the rest he tersely records “were of the wrong sort.”
The prize was carried into Oratava, where after some delay, and a threatened bombardment of the town, the Spaniards eventually ransomed her. The transaction, however, seemed to have ended to Rogers’s satisfaction, and his ships sailed away “well stocked with liquor, the better able to endure the cold when we get the length of Cape Horn.” On the 25th of September the ships passed the “tropick,” when according to the ritual of the sea, the fresh-water sailors were ducked from the yard-arm, or forced to pay a fine of half a crown.