THE "INVENTION," FRENCH PRIVATEER
PRIVATEERS AND PRIVATEERING
By
COMMANDER E.P. STATHAM, R.N.
AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF THE 'BRITANNIA,'" AND JOINT
AUTHOR OF "THE HOUSE OF HOWARD"
WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS
London: HUTCHINSON & CO.
Paternoster Row 1910
PREFACE
A few words of explanation are necessary as to the pretension and scope of this volume. It does not pretend to be a history of privateering; the subject is an immense one, teeming with technicalities, legal and nautical; interesting, indeed, to the student of history, and never comprehensively treated hitherto, as far as the present author is aware, in any single work.
The present object is not, however, to provide a work of reference, but rather a collection of true stories of privateering incidents, and heroes of what the French term "la course"; and as such it is hoped that it will find favour with a large number of readers.
While the author has thus aimed at the simple and graphic narration of such adventures, every effort has been made to ensure that the stories shall be truly told, without embroidery, and from authentic sources; and it has been found necessary, in some instances, to point out inaccuracies in accounts already published; necessary, in view of the fact that these accounts are accessible to any one, and probably familiar to not a few possible readers of this volume, and it appears to be only fair and just that any animadversions upon these discrepancies should be here anticipated and dealt with.
It has not been considered necessary, save in rare instances, to give references for statements or narratives; the book is designed to amuse and entertain, and copious references in footnotes are not entertaining.
It will be noticed that the vast majority of the lives of privateers and incidents are taken from the eighteenth century; for the simple reason that full and interesting accounts during this period are available, while earlier ones are brief and bald, and often of very doubtful accuracy.
Some excuse must be craved for incongruities in chronological order, which are unavoidable under the circumstances. They do not affect the stories.
There remains to enumerate the titles and authors of modern works to which the writer is indebted, and of which a list will be found on the adjoining page.
LIST OF MODERN AUTHORITIES
"History of the American Privateers and Letters of Marque in the War of 1812," etc. By George Coggleshall. 1856.
"Mann and Manners at the Court of Florence." By Dr. Doran. 1876.
"The Naval War of 1812." By T. Roosevelt. 1882.
"Studies in Naval History." By Sir John K. Laughton. 1887.
"The Corsairs of France." By C.B. Norman. 1887.
"Life Aboard a British Privateer in the Reign of Queen Ann." By R.C. Leslie. 1889.
"Robert Surcouf, un Corsaire Malouin." Par Robert Surcouf, ancien Sous-préfet. 1889.
"The British Fleet." By Commander C.N. Robinson, R.N. 1894.
"The Royal Navy." By Sir W. Laird Clowes, etc. 1894.
"Old Naval Ballads," etc. The Navy Records Society. 1894.
"A History of the Administration of the Royal Navy," etc. By M. Oppenheim. 1896.
"History of the Liverpool Privateers," etc. By G. Williams. 1897.
"Naval Yarns, Letters, and Anecdotes," etc. By W.H. Long. 1899.
"A History of American Privateers." By E.S. Maclay. 1900.
"Sea Songs and Ballads." By C. Stone. 1906.
"Les Corsaires." Par Henri Malo. 1908.
CONTENTS
[CHAPTER I]
[TWO EARLY INCIDENTS]
[CHAPTER II]
[ANDREW BARTON]
[THE "AMITY" AND THE SPANIARDS ]
[PRIVATEERING IN THE SOUTH SEAS]
[CHAPTER III]
[CHAPTER IV]
[CHAPTER V]
[CHAPTER VI]
[GEORGE SHELVOCKE AND JOHN CLIPPERTON]
[SOME ODD YARNS]
[CHAPTER VII]
[CAPTAIN PHILLIPS, OF THE "ALEXANDER"]
[THE CASE OF THE "ANTIGALLICAN" ]
[CHAPTER VIII]
[CAPTAIN DEATH, OF THE "TERRIBLE" ]
[MR. PETER BAKER AND THE "MENTOR"]
[CAPTAIN EDWARD MOOR, OF THE "FAME"]
[CAPTAIN JAMES BORROWDALE, OF THE "ELLEN"]
[TWO GREAT ENGLISHMEN]
[CHAPTER IX]
[CHAPTER X]
[CHAPTER XI]
[CHAPTER XII]
[SOME FRENCHMEN]
[CHAPTER XIII]
[CHAPTER XIV]
[CHAPTER XV]
[CHAPTER XVI]
[ROBERT SURCOUF]
[CONCERNING THE FRONTISPIECE ]
[SOME AMERICANS]
[CHAPTER XVII]
[CHAPTER XVIII]
[CHAPTER XIX]
[CHAPTER XX]
[CHAPTER XXI]
[SOME MORE ODD YARNS]
[CHAPTER XXII]
[THE "PRINCESS ROYAL" PACKET ]
[TWO COLONIAL PRIVATEERS ]
[CHAPTER XXIII]
[THE AFFAIR OF THE "BONAPARTE"]
[CHAPTER XXIV]
[THE "WINDSOR CASTLE" PACKET]
[THE "CATHERINE"]
[THE "FORTUNE"]
[THE "THREE SISTERS" ]
[CONCLUSION]
[INDEX ]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
[ THE "INVENTION," FRENCH PRIVATEER ]
From a drawing by Commander E.P. Statham, R.N.
[ WILLIAM DAMPIER, THE FAMOUS CIRCUMNAVIGATOR ]
From a photograph by Emery Walker after the painting by Thomas Murray in the National Portrait Gallery.
[ CAPTURE OF THE FRENCH EAST INDIAMEN "CARNATIC" BY THE "MENTOR" PRIVATEER ]
By permission of the Library Committee of the Corporation of Liverpool.
[ CAPTURE OF THE FRENCH ARMED SHIPS "MARQUIS D'ANTIN" AND "LOUIS ERASMÉ" BY THE "DUKE" AND "PRINCE FREDERICK" PRIVATEERS ]
From an engraving by Ravenet after a painting by Brooking.
[ ACTION BETWEEN THE SPANISH 74-GUN SHIP "GLORIOSO" AND THE "KING GEORGE" AND "PRINCE FREDERICK" OF THE "ROYAL FAMILY" PRIVATEERS ]
From an engraving by Ravenet after a painting by Brooking.
[ JEAN BART, A FAMOUS FRENCH PRIVATEER CAPTAIN ]
From an engraving by J. Chapman.
[ RENÉ DUGUAY-TROUIN, A FAMOUS FRENCH PRIVATEER CAPTAIN ]
[ CAPTURE OF THE FRENCH PRIVATEER "JEUNE RICHARD" BY THE "WINDSOR CASTLE" PACKET ]
From an engraving by William Ward after the painting by S. Drummond, A.R.A.
INTRODUCTORY
CHAPTER I
The privateersman, scouring the seas in his swift, rakish craft, plundering the merchant vessels of the enemy, and occasionally engaging in a desperate encounter with an opponent of his own class, or even with a well-equipped man-of-war, has always presented a romantic and fascinating personality. Many thrilling tales, half truth, half fiction, have been written about him; and if he has not infrequently been confounded with his first cousin the pirate, it must be admitted that for such confusion there is considerable justification. The privateer is a licensed, the pirate an unlicensed, plunderer; but plunder, not patriotism, being, as a rule, the motive of the former, it is not perhaps surprising that, failing legitimate prey, he has sometimes adopted, to a great extent, the tactics of the latter.
Before proceeding to give an account of some of these licensed rovers and their adventures, let us consider for a moment or two the origin and development of privateering; this will assist us in forming an appreciation of the advantages and drawbacks of the system, and also of the difficulties which presented themselves to an honest and conscientious privateer captain—for such there have been, as we shall see, though there are not too many who merit such terms.
It is not very easy to say when privateering was first inaugurated, though it is pretty certain that the term "privateer" did not come into use until well on in the seventeenth century; licensed rovers, or private men-of-war, were known previous to this period by some other title, such as "Capers"—from a Dutch word, "Kaper"—or "letters of marque," the latter a very incorrect term, adopted through a loose manner of speech, for a "letter of marque" is, strictly speaking, a very different affair from a privateer; indeed, the application of such a term to a ship is obviously absurd: to convert a piece of paper or parchment with writing on it into a seaworthy vessel would be a considerably more marvellous piece of conjuring than turning a pumpkin into a carriage, as the good fairy did for the accommodation of Cinderella.
There is no doubt that the employment of private vessels for the purposes of war, and the granting of letters of marque, went on side by side for a great number of years. From the earliest times, before the Norman Conquest, there were hordes of sea-rovers who, entirely on their own account, and solely for the purpose of plunder, infested the seas, robbing without scruple or distinction every defenceless vessel they encountered, and in many instances wantonly slaughtering the crews; they would also, on occasion, make a descent upon the coast either of their own or some adjacent country—they were quite impartial in this respect—and sack the farms and dwellings within easy reach, retiring to their vessels before any force could be assembled to deal with them. The Danes, as we know, were particularly handy at this kind of thing, and gave us no little trouble.
Nobody appears to have made any great effort to put down this piracy; but sometimes it was convenient to enlist the services of some of these hardy and adventurous ruffians against the enemies of the sovereign. In the year 1049, for instance, that excellent monarch, Edward the Confessor, finding the Danes very troublesome on the south coast, sent a force, under Godwin, to deal with them; and we are told that it was composed of "two king's ships, and forty-two of the people's ships"; these latter being, no doubt, a collection of—let us hope—the less villainous of these sea-rovers, hardy and skilful seamen, and desperate fighters when it came to the point.
Nearly two hundred years later, in 1243, King Henry III. issued regular patents, or commissions, to certain persons, seamen by profession, "to annoy the king's enemies by sea or land wheresoever they are able," and enjoined all his faithful subjects to refrain from injuring or hindering them in this business; the condition being that half the plunder was to be given to the king, "in his wardrobe"—that is, his private purse—and it is quite probable that both the king and the recipients of his commission made a nice little profit out of it.
This is a genuine instance of what was known later as privateering; and it will be noticed that the "king's enemies" are specified as the only persons against whom the commission holds good; in other words, such a commission can have no significance, nor indeed can it be issued, in time of peace or against any friendly Power. This is an essential characteristic of privateering: it can only be carried on when a state of war exists, and the fitting out of a privateer to attack the subjects of any sovereign would in itself be an act of war.
Now let us see what is meant by a letter of marque; there is a good instance on record at the end of the thirteenth century, in the reign of Edward I.
One Bernard D'Ongressill, a merchant of Bayonne—at that time a portion of the realm of the King of England—in the year 1295, was making a peaceful, and, as he hoped, a profitable voyage from Barbary to England, in his ship the St. Mary, with a cargo of almonds, raisins, and figs; unfortunately he encountered heavy weather, and was compelled to run into Lagos—a small sea-port at the south-west corner of Portugal which affords secure shelter from westerly gales—and, while he was waiting for the weather to moderate, there came from Lisbon some armed men, who robbed D'Ongressill of the ship, cargo, and the private property of himself and his crew, and took the whole of their spoil to Lisbon. The King of Portugal very unscrupulously appropriated one-tenth of the plunder, the remainder being divided among the robbers.
The unhappy victim at once applied for redress to the king's representative, Sir John of Brittany, Lieutenant of Gascony, representing that he had lost some £700, and requesting that he might be granted letters of marque against the Portuguese, to take whatever he could from them, until he had made up his loss. This was conceded, and authority bestowed to "seize by right of marque,[1] retain, and appropriate the people of Portugal, and especially those of Lisbon and their goods, wheresoever they might be found," for five years, or until he had obtained restitution. This was dated in June: but the king's ratification was necessary, and this caused some delay, as Edward was at that time shut up in a Welsh castle; however, he was able in October to confirm the licence; but he added the proviso that if D'Ongressill took more than £700 worth from the Portuguese, he would be held answerable for the balance.
This is an excellent example of the form and import of a letter of marque; and it will be noticed that England was not at war with Portugal, nor did the issue of this letter of marque constitute an act of war; it was, in fact, a licence to a private individual to recover by force from the subjects of another sovereign the goods of which he had been despoiled; the practice dates back, certainly, to the early part of the twelfth century, and probably further; and it was in use in England until the time of Charles II., or later. The one condition, not mentioned in the case of D'Ongressill, was that letters of marque should not be granted until every effort had been made to obtain a peaceful settlement; representations may, however, have been made to the King of Portugal; but if, as stated by D'Ongressill, he had pocketed a tithe of the spoil, one can imagine that there might be some difficulty in the matter; the possession of one-tenth would naturally appear, in the eyes of his Majesty of Portugal, to constitute nine points of the law!
The application of the term letter of marque to vessels which were in reality privateers has caused a good deal of confusion; some naval historians of great repute have fallen into error over it, one of them, for instance, alluding to the commissions granted by Henry III., in 1243, as the "first recorded instance of the issue of letters of marque"; rather an inexcusable mistake, from which the present reader is happily exempt.
While guarding, in this explanation, against such confusion of terms, we must, notwithstanding, accept the ultimate adoption of it; and so we shall find included among our privateers and their commanders some who were quite improperly described as letters of marque, and one, at least, who may correctly be thus designated, but who, as an interesting example of a sort of privateering at an early period, appears to deserve mention.
The bearer of a letter of marque—or "mart," as it was constantly termed by writers and others of that class of persons who never will take the trouble to pronounce an unusual word properly—came to be adopted as the type of a sort of swashbuckler—a reckless, bullying individual, armed with doubtful credentials in the pursuit of some more or less discreditable object: allusion of this nature is made more than once by Beaumont and Fletcher in their plays, as well as by other writers.
The immense value of a fleet of privateers, more especially to a country opposed to another possessing a large mercantile marine, is obvious, and their use developed very rapidly.
By the middle of the sixteenth century the fitting out of vessels by corporations and individuals, for their own protection and the "annoying of the king's enemies" with the further advantage of substantial gains by plunder, was clearly recognised, for we find King Henry VIII., in the year 1544, remonstrating with the Mayor and burgesses of Newcastle, Scarborough, and Hull for their remissness in this respect. He points out what has been done elsewhere, especially in the west parts, "where there are twelve or sixteen ships of war abroad, who have gotten among them not so little as £10,000"; and adds: "It were over-burdensome that the king should set ships to defend all parts of the realm, and keep the narrow seas withal."
In the American and French wars of the eighteenth and early part of the nineteenth centuries there were literally thousands of privateers engaged. It would appear as though almost every skipper and shipowner incontinently applied, upon declaration of war, for a commission, or warrant, or letter of marque—no matter what it was called; the main thing was to get afloat, and have a share in what was going.
Valuable as have been the services of privateers, at various periods, as auxiliaries to the Navy, there is an obvious danger in letting loose upon the seas a vast number of men who have never had any disciplinary training, and whose principal motive is the acquisition of wealth—is, in fact, officially recognised as such; and although there existed pretty stringent regulations, amended at various times as occasion demanded, covering the mode of procedure to be adopted before the prize-money could be paid, these laws were constantly evaded in the most flagrant manner. Even the most honourable and well-disposed privateer captain was liable at any moment to find himself confronted by the alternatives of yielding to the demands of his rapacious crew for immediate and unlawful division of the spoil, or yet more lawless capture of an ineligible vessel, and personal violence, perhaps death, to himself; and the ease with which an unarmed vessel, overhauled within the silent circle of the horizon, unbroken by the sails of a solitary witness, could be compelled, whatever her nationality, upon some flimsy excuse to pay toll, frequently proved too strong a temptation to be resisted.
There is abundant evidence of the notoriety of such unlawful doings; Sir Leoline Jenkins, Judge of the High Court of Admiralty in the reign of Charles II., says, in a letter to Secretary Williamson: "I see that your embarrass hath been much greater about our Scotch privateers. The truth is, I am much scandalised at them in a time of war; they are, in my poor judgment, great instruments to irritate the king's friends, to undo his subjects, and none at all to profit upon the enemy; but it will not be remedied. The privateers in our wars are like the mathematici in old Rome: a sort of people that will always be found fault with, but still made use of."
Von Martens, a great authority upon maritime law, is equally plain-spoken: "Pirates have always been considered the enemies of mankind, and proscribed and punished accordingly. On the contrary, privateers are encouraged to this day (1801), notwithstanding all the complaints of neutral Powers, of which they are the scourge; and notwithstanding all their excesses, which it has been in vain attempted to suppress by ill-observed laws."
Admiral Vernon, in 1745, while acknowledging the services of privateers in distressing the enemy's trade and bringing an addition of wealth into the country, deprecates their employment on the ground of the general tendency to debauch the morals of our seamen, by substituting greed of gain for patriotism[2]; and Lord Nelson, in 1804, says: "The conduct of all privateers is, as far as I have seen, so near piracy that I only wonder any civilised nation can allow them."
This is a sorry story of the privateer, and tends to discount sadly the romantic element so commonly associated with him. This is not a romance, however, and, having thus cleared the ground, we must be content to take the privateer, like Kipling's "Absent-minded Beggar," as we find him; and, by way of consolation and reward for our ingenuousness, we shall come across privateersmen whose skill, gallantry, and absolute integrity of conduct would do credit to many a hero of the Royal Navy.
The almost universal practice which prevailed in former times, of arming merchant vessels, particularly in certain trades, as a protection against pirates and privateers, has led to a considerable amount of misunderstanding. There are many instances upon record of spirited and successful defence, even against a very superior force, on the part of these armed traders, which have frequently been cited as privateer actions. These vessels, however, carried no warlike commission, and must not therefore be included in this category. Captain Hugh Crow, of Liverpool, who was engaged for many years in the West African slave trade, is a case in point. He fought some severe actions, upon one occasion with two British sloops-of-war, which he mistook in the dark for French privateers; the error being reciprocal, they pounded away at each other in the darkness, and it was not until Crow, after a desperate and most creditable resistance, was compelled at length to surrender, that victors and vanquished discovered their error: a very remarkable incident. Captain Crow was a shining light, in those unhappy slaving times, by reason of his humanity and integrity, and was beloved by the negroes from Bonny to Jamaica, where he landed so many cargoes.
Some celebrities of the sea have also been erroneously styled privateers; among others, the notorious Paul Jones, and Captain Semmes, of Alabama fame. Jones was a renegade, being a Scotsman by birth, and his proper name John Paul; but he fought under a regular commission from the United States, and was subsequently accorded the rank of Rear-Admiral in the Russian service. It must be admitted, however, that his conduct afforded some grounds for the appellation of "Paul Jones the Pirate," by which he was sometimes known; but he was a consummate seaman, and a man of infinite courage and resource.
Semmes was also employed as a commissioned naval officer by the Confederate States, in the Civil War of 1860; and though he was classed at first as a "rebel" by the Northerners, and threatened with a pirate's fate if captured, the recognition of the Confederates as a belligerent State by foreign Powers had already rendered such views untenable.
It appears desirable to allude to these instances, in order to anticipate a possible question as to the exclusion of such famous seamen from these pages.
There is also considerable confusion among authors as to the distinction between a pirate and a privateer, some of them being apparently under the impression that the terms are synonymous, while others, through imperfect knowledge of the details and ignorance of international law, have classed as pirates men who did not merit that opprobrious title, and, on the other hand, have placed the "buccaneers"—who were sheer pirates—in the same category as legitimate privateers.
For instance, Captain Woodes Rogers, of whom we shall have a good deal to say later on, is alluded to by one writer as "little more than a pious pirate," and by another simply as a pirate, bent upon "undisguised robbery"; whereas he was, in fact, more than once in serious conflict with his crew, upon the occasion of their demanding the capture and plunder of a ship which he was not entitled to seize—and, moreover, he had his own way.
There have been, no doubt, and with equal certainty there will be, incidents in warfare which afford very unpleasant reading, and in which the aggressors appear to have been unduly harsh and exacting, not to say cruel, towards defenceless or vanquished people; but that does not prove that they were not within their rights, and to impugn the conduct of an individual from a hastily and perhaps ignorantly adopted moral standpoint, at the expense of the legal aspect of the matter, must obviously involve the risk of gross injustice. War is a very terrible thing, and is full of terrible incidents which are quite inevitable, and the rough must be taken with the smooth—if you can find any smooth!
It is an axiom of international law that, when two nations are at war, every subject of each is at war with every subject of the other; and, in view of this fact, it appears extremely doubtful whether any merchant vessel is not at liberty to capture one of the other side, if she be strong enough. It is, in fact, laid down by Sir Travers Twiss, a high authority, that if a merchant vessel, attacked by one of the enemy's men-of-war, should be strong enough to turn the tables, she would be entitled to make a prize of her: an unlikely incident, of course.
It is unnecessary, however, to enter upon further discussion of this subject, which would involve us in very knotty problems, upon some of which the most accomplished authorities are still at variance, and which would afford very indifferent entertainment for the reader, who will now turn over the page and follow the fortunes of our privateers—which will be found by no means devoid of interest, in spite of strict adherence to the plain unvarnished truth.
[1] Sir Harris Nicolas, in his "History of the Royal Navy," interprets the Latin word marcare (or marchare) "to mark," and, in referring to this incident, says that Bernard was accorded the right of "marking the men and subjects of the King of Portugal," etc. It is curious that so diligent and accomplished a chronicler should have fallen into this error. The verb marcare, as he would have discovered by reference to the "Glossarium" of Du Cange, the learned French archæologist, was in fact a bit of "law Latin," coined for a purpose; that is, to express in one word the rights conceded by a letter of marque; it will not be found in any ordinary Latin dictionary. The grant of a licence to "mark" the subjects of some monarch, and their goods, is, indeed somewhat of an absurdity—clearly, the "marker" would first have to catch the men and their possessions!
[2] In an original letter formerly in the possession of the late Sir William Laird Clowes, quoted by him in "The Royal Navy."
TWO EARLY INCIDENTS
CHAPTER II
There was living at the commencement of the sixteenth century a Scotsman, named Andrew Barton, who acquired considerable notoriety by reason of his exploits at sea; and indeed, he was instrumental in bringing to a definite issue the condition of high tension existing between England and Scotland at that time, which culminated in the battle of Flodden Field.
It appears, from certain State Papers, that one John Barton, the father of Andrew, somewhere about the year 1476, in the reign of James III. of Scotland, got into trouble with the Portuguese, who captured his vessel and goods and otherwise ill-treated him; upon representation of which injuries he obtained letters of marque against the Portuguese, in the usual terms.
Apparently, however, John did not succeed in obtaining substantial restitution by this means, for we learn, in a letter from James IV. to Maximilian, Emperor of Germany, dated December 8th, 1508, that the letters of marque had been repeatedly suspended, in the hope of obtaining redress; but had been renewed during the previous year, in favour of the late John Barton's three sons, one of whom—Robert—was the occasion of the writing of this letter; the Portuguese having taken him prisoner, and proposing to hang him as a pirate, which, says King James, he is not, having authority to act against the Portuguese, by virtue of my letters of marque.
All this argues a considerable amount of favour towards the Bartons on the Scottish monarch's part; for it must be admitted that the renewal of letters of marque, after they had run intermittently for thirty years in respect of one incident, was a straining of the elasticity of conventions.
The Bartons had, in fact, been high in favour both with James III. and his successor, and were constantly employed by them in maritime affairs, being frequently entrusted, as we learn from the accounts of the Lord Treasurer of Scotland, with the handling of large sums of money.
They were formidable fellows, these Bartons; hardy and daring, skilled in all the strategy of the sea, and, when occasion arose, perfect gluttons at fighting. Andrew appears to have been the most formidable, and added to his other attributes that of being a born leader of men.
We are told by Bishop John Leslie, in his "History of Scotland," that in the year 1506 King James caused a great ship to be built, in the design and rigging of which Andrew Barton played a prominent part, and was afterwards placed in command of her to harry the Flemish pirates then infesting the narrow seas: a task which he set about with characteristic energy and ferocity, with the result that he captured some and completely scattered and demoralised the remainder. By way of demonstrating his success in graphic and convincing fashion, he presently despatched to his august master sundry pipes, or casks, containing Flemish heads! He little guessed, however, that his own head was destined—according to some authorities—to make, before many years had elapsed, a similar journey, unaccompanied by his body.
Having disposed of the Flemish pirates, Andrew Barton resumed his operations, under letters of marque, against the Portuguese, and captured, during following years, a good many vessels under that flag; nor were his brothers idle. One cannot help wondering whether the Barton family had not by this time exacted more than adequate restitution of their losses of five-and-thirty years previously; and, as we know, it was of the essence of such authorised reprisals that they should cease when this end was attained. Very probably some contemporary persons, more or less interested in their doings, began asking this same question; at any rate, there prevailed in the year 1511 a very strong feeling in England against Andrew Barton; he was constantly alluded to as the "Scottish pirate," and accused of many outrages against vessels other than Portuguese; and, as there existed just then very strained relations with Scotland, these stories met with ready credence. The general dislike of Andrew Barton and his doings was embodied in a representation by Portuguese ambassadors to King Henry VIII., who does not appear to have complained to the Scots King, or taken any steps in the matter.
The public feeling was voiced, however, by Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey—afterwards victor of Flodden, and second Duke of Norfolk—who exclaimed that "The King of England should not be imprisoned in his kingdom, while either he had an estate to set up a ship, or a son to command it."
This somewhat theatrical attitude is indicative of the exaggerated stories in circulation as to Andrew Barton's terrorism of the narrow seas; the immediate sequel, however, was the fitting out of two vessels, commanded respectively by Surrey's sons, Lord Thomas and Lord Edward Howard, with the express object of capturing Barton. It is said by some writers that the Howards provided these ships at their own cost, and, in view of Surrey's enthusiastic outbreak, it appears not improbable that this was the case. However this may be, the two brothers put forth from the Thames one day in June 1511 in quest of Andrew, who was then returning from Flanders, by way of the Downs, in his ship, the Lion, accompanied by a smaller vessel, or pinnace, the Jenny Pirwin.
The Howards had to wait for more than a month, however, and then, being separated by bad weather, Lord Thomas sighted the Lion, which had also parted from her consort.
Barton appears to have endeavoured, in the first instance, to escape; according to Leslie, he made friendly advances to Howard, insisting that the English and Scotch were not at war; this would have been a sound and logical attitude for Barton to assume, and it may be that he acted so; but in the end Howard chased him, and, finding himself outsailed, the Scot faced the foe with his usual boldness, and a desperate encounter ensued.
Howard's force was probably superior to that of his antagonist, but Andrew Barton and his ship's company were not to be intimidated by odds against them, when once they entered upon an engagement, and Lord Thomas soon realised that the task he had undertaken was no child's play.
Reeling alongside each other, at the closest quarters, the two vessels exchanged shots from their cannon as rapidly as they could be loaded and fired, while the crossbowmen and arquebusiers discharged a perfect hail of arrows, "quarrells," and bolts; Howard placed his ship again and again alongside, in the attempt to board, only to be beaten off by the valiant Scots, the decks of both vessels plentifully strewn with the wounded and dying.
At length Howard, as courageous and persistent a fighter as Barton, gained a footing on the Lion's deck, with a few of his men; others speedily followed, and a hand-to-hand fight ensued.
Barton was by this time mortally wounded; his leg was shattered by a cannon-shot, and his body pierced in several places; but he sat up against the bulwarks, blowing his whistle and beating a drum to rally his men, as long as the breath remained in him; and it was not until they saw the fighting flame quenched in the eye of their intrepid and yet unconquered leader, and his chin drop upon his breast, that the sturdy Scots were fain at length to yield to Howard and his men.
Lord Edward Howard, meanwhile, had captured the Jenny Pirwin, not without some stubborn opposition, in spite of the odds in his favour, the smaller vessel having suffered heavily in killed and wounded before capitulating.
Both vessels were immediately added to the English Navy, the nucleus of which was then in process of formation; the prisoners were conveyed to London, and confined in the palace of the Bishop of York, awaiting the king's pleasure.
As might be expected, the Scottish historians, Leslie and Buchanan, give a somewhat different account from that of Edward Hall, in whose chronicle the most nearly contemporary narrative is to be found. Leslie's allegation as to the friendly overtures of Barton finds no corroboration in Hall's Chronicle; and indeed, it is difficult to believe that Andrew Barton did not thoroughly comprehend the situation from the first.
King Henry VIII. appears to have been willing to give the prisoners every chance, for he sent some members of his Council, with the Bishop of Winchester, to parley with them. The bishop, according to Hall, "rehearsed to them, whereas peace was yet between England and Scotland, that they, contrary to that, as thieves and pirates, had robbed the king's subjects within his streams, therefore they had deserved to die by the law, and to be hanged at the low-water mark. Then said the Scots, we knowledge our offence, and ask mercy, and not the law. Then a priest which was also a prisoner, said, My lords, we appeal from the king's justice to his mercy. Then the bishop asked him, if he was authorised by them to say so, and they cried all, Yea, yea; then said he, You shall find the king's mercy above his justice; for where you were dead by law, yet by his mercy he will revive you; wherefore you shall depart out of this realm within twenty days, upon pain of death, if you be found after the twenty days; and pray for the king; and so they passed into their country."
Thus far Edward Hall; Buchanan says: "They who were not killed in the fight were thrown into prison at London; from whence they were brought to the king, and, humbly begging their lives of him, as they were instructed to do by the English, he, in a proud ostentation of his great clemency, dismissed, and sent the poor innocent souls away."
When James remonstrated, demanding redress for the death of Andrew Barton and his comrades, and the capture of their ships, Henry replied that the doing of justice upon a pirate was no occasion for a breach of friendly relations between two princes. "This answer," says Buchanan, "showed the spite of one that was willing to excuse a plain murder, and seemed as if he had sought an occasion of war."
This incident was celebrated in verse, not immediately afterwards, but in the reign of Elizabeth.
The "Ballad of Sir Andrew Barton" gives a most circumstantial account of the fight, introducing many details which are probably fictitious, and confusing the identity of the Howards who took part in it. According to the writer, Lord Charles Howard was the hero of the occasion; but there does not happen to have been any such person to the fore at that time, the conqueror of the Spanish Armada—Charles Howard, Lord Effingham, afterwards created Earl of Nottingham—not having been born until five-and-twenty years later.
Probably the ballad was written after 1588—the Armada year—by way of glorifying the Howards, who were very high in royal and popular favour at that time; such anachronisms were very common in popular ballads of this and later times.
The writer represents that Barton's smaller vessel was sunk; and he it is who tells us about that alleged journey of Andrew's head:
My Lord Howard tooke a sword in his hand,
And smote of Sir Andrew's head;
The Scotts stood by did weepe and mourne,
But never a word durst speake or say.
He caused his body to be taken downe,
And over the hatch-bord cast into the sea,
And about his middle three hundred crownes:
"Whersoever thou lands, itt will bury thee."
With his head they sayled into England againe,
With right good will, and fforce and main,
And the day before new Yeereseven
Into Thames mouth they came againe.
Then King Henerye shiffted his roome;
In came the Queene and ladyes bright;
Other arrand they had none
But to see Sir Andrew Bartton, Knight.
But when they see his deadly face,
His eyes were hollow in his head;
"I wold give a hundred pound," sais King Henerye,
"The man were alive as hee is dead."
A gruesome sight, indeed, for the Queen—the courageous but gentle Katharine of Aragon—and her ladies!
There is a disposition in some quarters to regard the whole incident as fictitious, but this does not appear to be at all justifiable. Edward Hall, the Chronicler, was a lad of thirteen or fourteen at the time, and so may be regarded as, practically, a contemporary writer; while Bishop Leslie (1527-96) and George Buchanan (1506-82) must certainly have known many persons who remembered the fight. Moreover, it appears to be certain that the Lion and Jenny Pirwin were at that time added to the infant Navy, while the official correspondence of the King of Scotland tells of the grant and renewal of the letters of marque.
Barton was not entitled to the "handle" which the Elizabethan rhymester prefixes to his name: he was not a knight, though he might very possibly have become one, had he lived.
Whether or not he was, strictly speaking, a pirate is very doubtful; he was probably no worse in this respect than many, both in prior and later times, who have escaped the odium and the consequences of piracy. He was certainly empowered by his sovereign to overhaul and plunder Portuguese ships and appropriate the goods of Portuguese subjects; and if he permitted himself some latitude in the matter of Portuguese cargoes carried in English or other bottoms—well, there are some naval commanders of the twentieth century who would scarcely find themselves in a position to cast the first stone at him; there were some curious doings in the Russo-Japanese War, some of which still await the final decision of the courts.
Andrew Barton, as has already been hinted, was not, strictly speaking, a privateer; but he occupies an exceptional position, by reason of his intimate association with the two Scottish kings, which places him somewhat outside of the sphere of the ordinary letter of marque; while as an intrepid sea-fighter, in command of a private ship, he is second to none.
In the year 1592 the privateer Amity, of London, commanded by Thomas Whyte, captured two armed Spanish vessels, the St. Francisco and St. Peter, respectively of 130 and 150 tons. The crew of the Amity numbered forty-three, but we are not told her armament. The St. Francisco carried three iron guns, two copper pieces of twenty quintals each, and one of fourteen quintals—that is, two pretty nearly one ton in weight, and one about two-thirds of a ton; but it is not quite clear what weight of shot they fired. She had also twenty muskets on board, and carried a crew of twenty-eight men and two boys; she was licensed to carry twenty passengers. The force of the St. Peter is not given, but was probably slightly in excess of that of the St. Francisco. They were bound for the West Indies, with cargoes in which were included 112 tons of quicksilver—a pretty valuable freight—28 tons of papal Bulls,[3] and some wine.
The description of the action, by someone on board the Amity, is given in the Lansdowne MSS., and transcribed by Mr. M. Oppenheim, in his "History of the Administration of the Royal Navy," as below, except that the spelling is here modernised, to render the account more readily intelligible to the reader:
"The order and manner of the taking of the two ships laden with quicksilver and the Pope's Bulls, bound for the West Indies, by the Amity of London, Master Thomas Whyte.
"The 26th of July, 1592, being in 36 degrees, or thereabouts [somewhere off the Strait of Gibraltar], we had sight of the said ships, being distant from us about three or four leagues; by 7 of the clock we fetched them up and were within gunshot, whose boldness (having the King's arms displayed) did make us conceive them rather to be ships of war than laden with merchandise. And, as it doth appear by some of their own speeches, they made full account to have taken us, and was question among them whether they should carry us to St. Lucar [just north of Cadiz] or Lisbon. We waved each other amain [i.e. called upon each other to strike or lower the sails], they having placed themselves in warlike order, the one a cable's length before the other; we begun the fight, in the which we continued so fast as we were able to charge and discharge the space of five hours, being never a cable's length distant either of us the one from the other, in which time we received divers shots both in the hull of our ship, masts, and sails, to the number of 32 great shot which we told after the fight, besides five hundred musket-shot and harquebus à croc i.e. the St. Francisco], which was ahead the other, where lying aboard about an hour plying our ordnance and small shot, with the which we stowed all his men [i.e. drove them from the deck]; now they in the fly-boat[4]—the St. Peter—making account that we had entered our men, bare room with us [i.e. ran down upon us], meaning to have laid us aboard, and so to have entrapped us between them both, which we perceiving, made ready ordnance and fitted us so as we quitted ourselves of him, and he boarded his fellow, by which means they both fell from us The number found on board the two vessels—one hundred and thirty-four, including the dead—and the implication that some corpses had been thrown overboard, making up the total to, say, one hundred and forty, points to the conclusion that there must have been a large number of passengers. The St. Francisco was only entitled to have fifty souls on board, all told, and her consort probably not above sixty at the outside; so there is a surplus of thirty or so between the two to be accounted for. No doubt the skippers, in the absence of any strict inquisition, carried more passengers than they were licensed for. The captains of ferry-boats and coasting steamers do so to this day, in spite of the very stringent regulations of the Board of Trade—and they do not very often get found out, except by the supervention of some dire catastrophe, due to overloading and panic. The futile Spanish bravado, in refusing to lower their sails to any Englishman, after having displayed the white flag in token of surrender, is decidedly amusing; one cannot help wondering whether any one of them really persuaded himself that he had "saved his face" by such a piece of tomfoolery. [3] This traffic in "Bulls" from the Pope was, of course, a gross abuse of papal prerogative, which was probably engineered by some of his underlings for their own enriching. A packet of nearly one million and a half of such documents obviously could not have been signed by the Pope himself. [4] The fly-boat was a flat-bottomed Dutch vessel, with a high stern; probably the term is used loosely here, to distinguish between the two vessels; the St. Peter more nearly resembling a fly-boat. WILLIAM DAMPIER, THE FAMOUS CIRCUMNAVIGATOR The title of this section requires, perhaps, some explanation; and first as to the phrase "South Seas." In the sixteenth and two following centuries this term was applied to that portion of the Pacific Ocean which borders the west coast of South America, from Cape Horn to the Gulf of Panama. It had been first exploited by the Spaniards, and became a great treasure-hunting ground for them, until France and England stepped in to obtain a share in the spoils, and the Spanish treasure-ships were tracked and waylaid by English privateers and men-of-war; which also attacked Spanish ports and towns. To this end there were several privateering expeditions sent out, at the end of the seventeenth and during the eighteenth century: and it is of some of these that it is proposed to treat in this chapter. In this connection, it is impossible to omit the name of William Dampier; for he was, for a time, a privateer captain, duly supplied with a commission to fight against the enemies of his sovereign. He had served, in his youth, in the Royal Navy, but had subsequently been in very bad company, sailing with the famous buccaneers, who were practically pirates, in the South Seas. This did not prevent him, however, from eventually obtaining, after many vicissitudes, the command of a man-of-war, the Roebuck: he lost his ship, and was tried by court-martial for cruelty to Lieutenant Fisher; and this was the end of his connection with the Navy, for the court found the charge proved against him, sentenced him to forfeit his pay, and pronounced him to be an unfit person to command a king's ship. Dampier was not, indeed, fit for any post of command, though he was a very distinguished man, by reason of his skill as a navigator, and the immense pains he took in noting and recording the characteristics, natural history, winds, currents, and every imaginable detail of those portions of the world which he visited. The results of his observations were treated with the greatest deference for generations afterwards, and in many respects hold good to the present day. His praises have been sung in all the languages of Europe, and one at least of his admirers alludes to him as "a man of exquisite refinement of mind." The word "refinement" must be taken as signifying, in this instance, the faculty of recognising and distinguishing between cause and effect in what came under his notice, a kind of natural intuition with regard to matters of scientific interest, a love of science for its own sake; for of refinement, in the commonly accepted sense of the word, Dampier certainly displayed a grievous lack, at least in his capacity as captain of a ship, even in those rough days. However, after his trouble in the Roebuck, he was placed in command of a privateer, the St. George, of twenty-six guns, for a voyage to the South Seas, having for a consort a smaller vessel, the Cinque Ports, commanded by one Pickering, and they sailed from Kinsale—a favourite port of call and place of departure in those days—on September 11th, 1703. The voyage was almost entirely a failure; the crews were more or less insubordinate from the first, neither Dampier nor Pickering knowing how to manage them. Pickering died when on the coast of Brazil, and Stradling, his mate, succeeded him. When they had got round Cape Horn, and made the island of Juan Fernandez, the crews mutinied openly; some of them went on shore, and declared their intention of deserting altogether. When this was patched up, there still remained an utter lack of confidence between Dampier and his subordinates. The two ships engaged a French cruiser, against Dampier's wish, and the action was futile and ill-fought, so that the Frenchman got away. Nothing prospered with them. Dampier was for ever making plans which held out the prospect of wealth, but had not the courage to follow them up. Alarmed at the sight of two French ships as they returned to Juan Fernandez, he sheered off, leaving a quantity of stores, and six men who had secreted themselves on the island. When at length they were in great straits for food, they captured a large Spanish ship laden with provisions; over this capture there was a final rupture between Dampier and Stradling, and they parted for good. They took two or three small vessels also, of no value, which only facilitated the defection of Dampier's followers. One of them Stradling had appropriated; in the other two, first John Clipperton, Dampier's mate, and then William Funnell, his steward, decamped, each with a party of men. The St. George was too rotten to venture in any longer, and eventually, after plundering a small Spanish town, Dampier seized a brigantine, and sailed for the East Indies, only to be taken and imprisoned in a Dutch factory for some months. At last he arrived in England, towards the end of 1707, to find that William Funnell—who represented himself as Dampier's mate—had published an account of the cruise, in which Dampier was belittled and held up to ridicule. Dampier immediately set to work and wrote a vindication of his conduct during the cruise—an angry and incoherent tirade, which probably convinced no one, and was answered shortly afterwards by one George Welbe, one of his former officers, in a pamphlet which was also a wordy and violent assault; but the impression finally left upon the mind of the reader is that Dampier was a very fine navigator and amateur scientist, but a very bad commander. We shall hear of him again very shortly, in a more subordinate capacity. In connection with this luckless cruise, there is one incident of considerable interest, which should not be overlooked. The Cinque Ports carried as sailing master one Alexander Selkirk, of Scotch extraction. Obviously, he must have been a seaman of considerable experience and capacity, to have been selected for this post; and presumably he would have knowledge of the navigation of the South Seas. He had, in fact, quitted his home in Scotland at the age of eighteen, and been absent for six years, during part of which time he is believed to have been with the buccaneers. When Captain Pickering died Selkirk viewed with great dissatisfaction the prospect of sailing under his successor, Stradling, whom he hated; and on the return of the Cinque Ports to Juan Fernandez, after parting from Dampier, he took occasion of a violent quarrel with Stradling to carry out a mad project which he had formed some time previously—to desert the vessel and fend for himself on this or some other island. Stradling took him at his word, and, when on the point of sailing, conveyed Selkirk, with all his traps, on shore and "dumped" him on the beach. The Scotchman shook hands with his shipmates very cheerfully, wishing them luck, while Stradling, apprehensive of more desertions, kept calling to them to return to the boat, which they did. As the boat pulled away, and Selkirk realised that he was to be left there, absolutely severed from all intercourse with mankind, probably for years, possibly until death, a sudden terrible revulsion of feeling rushed upon him, and he ran down the beach, wading into the sea, with outstretched hands imploring them to return and take him on board. Stradling only mocked him; told him his conduct in asking to be landed was rank mutiny, and that his present situation was a very suitable one for such a fellow, as he would at least not be able to affect others by his bad example; and so rowed away and left him: and it was nearly four and a half years later that he was rescued, by the crew of another English privateer, as we shall see. The special interest attached to this incident lies, of course, in the fact that, had Stradling not hardened his heart and rowed away, that wonderful book "Robinson Crusoe," the delight of our early years, would in all probability never have been written—or at least the principal portion, dealing with his life on the island, would not have been written; for it was undoubtedly the story of Alexander Selkirk's long, solitary sojourn on Juan Fernandez which gave Daniel Defoe the idea, though there is no reason to suppose that he obtained any details from Selkirk himself; indeed, the story of Robinson Crusoe and his adventures is, without doubt, pure romance. So there we may leave Alexander Selkirk for the present: a miserable man enough at first, we may well imagine. Captain Woodes Rogers was a very different stamp of man from Dampier, and far better adapted by nature for the command of a privateering expedition. His father was a Bristol man, a sea-captain, and subsequently resided at Poole; Woodes Rogers the younger was probably born at Bristol, about the year 1678. Of his early life we know nothing in detail, but he was evidently brought up as a seaman and attained a good position, for in the year 1708 he proposed to some merchants of Bristol that they should fit out a couple of privateers for a voyage to the South Seas. Whether he put any money in the venture we do not know, but he held strong views as to the folly of permitting the French and Spaniards to have it all their own way in that part of the world, and put his case to such good purpose that the necessary funds were speedily forthcoming. We are told, in Seyer's "Memoirs of Bristol," that among the gentlemen who financed the business, and to the survivors of whom, sixteen in number, Rogers dedicates his account of the cruise, there were several Quakers: a remarkable statement which, if true, would appear to indicate that the privateering fever, with huge gains in prospect, was too much for the principles even of the Society of Friends. Like many another sailor who has sat down to write an account of his doings, Rogers commences by disclaiming any pretensions to literary skill: "I had not time, were it my talent, to polish the stile; nor do I think it necessary for a mariner's journal." Nevertheless, the account is written in pleasing fashion, occasionally very quaint in phraseology, and has the merit also—which is decidedly lacking in some writings whereof great parade is made of "polishing the stile"—of being very lucid. The two vessels, named the Duke, of 320 tons, 30 guns, and 117 men, and the Duchess, of 260 tons, 26 guns, and 108 men, sailed from King Road, near Bristol, on August 2nd, 1708, for Cork, where Rogers hoped to complete his crews, or exchange some of the very mixed company for more efficient seamen, having not more than twenty such on board, while the Duchess was very little better off; so they were fortunate in not meeting with an enemy of any force on the way to Ireland; indeed, they appear to have sailed from Bristol in the greatest disorder—the rigging slack, ships out of trim, decks lumbered up, stores badly stowed, and so on, which must have gone greatly against the grain with a good seaman like Rogers. It is not difficult to imagine, however, the causes which led to such hurried departure: merchants who had been putting their hands in their pockets pretty freely for some months would be anxious to see the two ships at sea, commencing to rake in the spoil. Even the Quakers, perhaps, were impatient over the matter; and Rogers was probably told that it was time he was off. However, he made good use of the time at Cork, and reconstituted his crews, if not entirely to his liking, at least with considerable improvement. The owners, with, as we may conclude, the assistance of Rogers, had drawn up the constitution of a council, by which the progress of the voyage was to be determined, and all questions and disputes were to be settled. This is a very sensible document, providing for all probable contingencies; and, in the event of an equality of votes upon any matter, the casting vote was to be given by Thomas Dover, Rogers's second in command, who was appointed president of the council; this brings us to the subject of the officers of the two ships, and we find some very improbable persons included among them. In the first place, Thomas Dover, second captain, president of the council, and captain of the Marines, appears to have been neither a sailor nor soldier, but a doctor.[5] There were three lieutenants and three mates, but John Ballet, third mate, was "designed surgeon if occasion arose; he had been Captain Dampier's doctor, in his last unfortunate voyage round the world." Samuel Hopkins, a kinsman of Dover's, and an apothecary, was to act as Dover's lieutenant in case of landing a party. Then there was John Vigor, a "Reformado," to act as Dover's ensign if landed; while George Underwood and John Parker, two young lawyers, were designed to act as midshipmen. The whole arrangement has a savour of Gilbert and Sullivan, or Lewis Carroll, about it; one is irresistibly reminded of the "Hunting of the Snark," where the captain was a bellman, and had for his crew a butcher, a billiard-marker, and a beaver! However, Rogers and his merry men were not for hunting any such shadowy affair as a "Snark"; they meant business, and the list of sub-officers includes further two midshipmen, coxswain of the pinnace, surgeon, surgeon's mate, and assistant—they were well off in the medical branch—gunner, carpenter, with mate and three assistants; boatswain and mate; cooper, four quarter-masters, ship's steward, sailmaker, armourer, ship's corporal (who was also cook to the officers), and ship's cook. Also, as sailing-master and pilot for the South Seas, William Dampier sailed under Rogers in the Duke, probably the best man who could have been found for the post; he was a member of the council, and was no doubt a very valuable addition to the staff. The Duchess, commanded by Captain Stephen Courtney, was similarly officered, the second lieutenant being John Rogers, a brother of Woodes Rogers, some ten years his junior. "Most of us," says Rogers, "the chief officers, embraced this trip of privateering round the world, to retrieve the losses we had sustained by the enemy. Our complement of sailors in both ships was 333, of which alone one-third were foreigners from most nations; several of her Majesty's subjects on board were tinkers, tailors, haymakers, pedlars, fiddlers, etc., one negro, and about ten boys. With this mixed gang we hoped to be well manned, as soon as they had learnt the use of arms, and got their sea-legs, which we doubted not soon to teach them, and bring them to discipline." Very hopeful! One curious characteristic common to this mixed crew was that, as Rogers puts it, they "were continually marrying whilst we staid at Cork, though they expected to sail immediately. Among others there was a Dane coupled by a Romish priest to an Irish woman, without understanding a word of each other's language, so that they were forced to use an interpreter; yet I perceived this pair seemed more afflicted at separation than any of the rest. The fellow continued melancholy for several days after we were at sea. The rest, understanding each other, drank their cans of flip till the last minute, concluded with a health to our good voyage and their happy meeting, and then parted unconcerned." This "continual marrying" constitutes, in truth, a tribute to the character of Irish women; had it been at Wapping there would have been, it is to be feared, but little question of marrying. Even when they had restowed their holds and set up the rigging, Rogers is somewhat disheartened over the condition of the two ships: "Our holds are full of provisions; our cables, a great deal of bread, and water-casks between decks: and 183 men aboard the Duke, with 151 aboard the Duchess: so that we are very much crowded and pestered ships, not fit to engage an enemy without throwing provision and store overboard." However, they sailed on September 1st, in company with the Hastings man-of-war and some other vessels, from whom they parted on the 6th, bound for Madeira; and a few days later there was trouble with the undisciplined crew, who had as yet found neither their sea-legs nor their manners. Rogers had overhauled a vessel, sailing under Swedish colours; some of her crew, who were more or less drunk, had declared that she carried gunpowder and cables, so she was detained, in spite of the captain's remonstrances. However, no sign of any contraband goods could be discovered, so Rogers very properly let her go; upon which his men, who had no notion of going a-privateering without the joys of plunder, assumed a mutinous attitude, the boatswain at their head—all the mutineers were Englishmen. One man was flogged, ten were put in irons, and with the remainder Rogers reasoned, admitting, however, that he was forced to wink at the conduct of some. Next day a seaman came aft, "with near half the ship's company of sailors following him, and demanded the boatswain out of irons. I desired him to speak with me by himself on the quarter-deck, which he did, where the officers assisted me, seized him [i.e. tied him up], and made one of his chief comrades whip him. This method I thought best for breaking any unlawful friendship among themselves; which, with different correction to other offenders, allayed the tumult, so that now they begin to submit quietly, and those in irons beg pardon and promise amendment." An excellent method of "breaking friendship," unlawful or otherwise! On September 18th, in sight of Teneriffe, a small Spanish vessel was captured, belonging to Orotava, a port of Teneriffe. "Amongst the prisoners were four friars, and one of them the Padre Guardian for the island Forteventura, a good, honest old fellow. We made him heartily merry, drinking King Charles III.'s health; but the rest were of the wrong sort." The quarrels and intrigues of other nations brought a good deal of profit to privateersmen; the War of the Spanish Succession was then still in progress, the Grand Alliance striving to place the Archduke Charles of Austria on the Spanish throne, while others—"the wrong sort" from Rogers's point of view—upheld the cause of Philip, grandson of Louis XIV. of France; later on, as we shall see, the Austrian Succession was the occasion of some more profitable privateering. Rogers and his colleagues now found themselves involved, to their surprise, in a dispute with their own countrymen over their capture, the Vice-Consul and three merchants sending off a letter to say that it had been agreed between Queen Anne and the Kings of Spain and France, that vessels trading to the Canaries were to be exempt from interference, and that unless the prize were released, Mr. Vanbrugh, owners' agent on board the Duke, who had gone on shore, would be detained. Rogers was not to be so easily hoodwinked; he immediately detected the self-interest which prompted a disingenuous representation, and insisted that the prize should be ransomed; the cargo of wine and brandy he designed for his own ships; and he finished his letter as follows: "We are apprehensive you are obliged to give us this advice to gratify the Spaniards": which hit the nail very fairly on the head. Still pressed by the Spaniards, the Consul and his friends persisted; upon which Rogers told them that, had it not been for their agent being on shore, they would not have remained a moment to discuss the matter; but that now they would remain longer among the islands, in order to make reprisals, and that the Consul and his English and Spanish friends might expect a visit from their guns at eight o'clock the next morning. Accordingly, at that hour the two English privateers stood close in shore; but the guns were not needed, for a boat put off immediately with one of the merchants and Mr. Vanbrugh, bringing the ransom "in kind"—wine, grapes, hogs, and other accessories. And so they proceeded on their voyage; and a few days later they crossed the tropic of Cancer, which appears to have been made the occasion, in this instance, of some fun with those who had not come so far south before. Usually it is the crossing of the Equator which is selected as the occasion of these delights. Rogers's tinkers, tailors, pedlars, fiddlers, etc., had a lively time of it. "The manner of doing it was by a rope through a block from the mainyard, to hoist 'em above half-way up to the yard, and let 'em fall at once into the water; having a stick across through their legs, and well fastened to the rope, that they might not be surprised and let go their hold. This proved of great use to our fresh-water sailors, to recover the colour of their skins, which were grown very black and nasty." Exemption could be purchased at the cost of half-a-crown, the whole amount to be expended on an entertainment for all hands on their return to England. Some of the crew—especially the Dutchmen—begged that they might be ducked ten or twelve times—on the principle that, if immunity could be paid for, an excess of dipping should logically entitle them to a larger share of the pool! Sailors are queer creatures. After the capture of the small Spanish craft, Rogers found it advisable to lay down some rules, admitting the principle of plunder; he foresaw incessant trouble and probable mutiny in the future, if the right of the crew to the immediate distribution of a certain amount of spoil was not recognised. It was quite irregular, and had not been contemplated by the owners. However, the decision as to what should constitute plunder was, with the consent of the men, left to the senior officers and agents, so there was a certain safeguard against abuse. The next place of call was the Cape Verde Islands, where they anchored in the harbour of St. Vincent; here they watered with some difficulty, on account of the sea; and they lost one of their crew, one Joseph Alexander, who, by reason of his being a good linguist, was sent in a boat to the Governor at St. Antonio, with a letter, and was left behind to negotiate for supplies. However, he appears to have found the prospect of life in the Cape Verde Islands more promising than privateering. On October 5th "our boat went to St. Antonio to see for our linguist, according to appointment"; on the 6th "our boat returned with nothing but limes and tobacco, and no news of our linguist"; again on the 7th the boat was sent in quest of "our linguist"—and by this time they must have been getting pretty tired of his antics; on the 8th "no news of our linguist"; so, as the Trade-wind blew fresh, they concluded to leave him to practise his linguistic and other accomplishments on shore, and made sail for the coast of Brazil, Captain Rogers summing up the situation in a marginal note: "Our linguist deserts." The captains frequently exchanged visits, and even had little dinner-parties on board each other's ships, in mid-ocean, when it was held to be necessary to call a council; Rogers was very scrupulous about having everything done in order, and properly recorded. It may appear strange that there should be such frequent communication, especially when a council or dinner-party is recorded together with the remark, "fresh breeze, with heavy sea," and so on; but such boating exploits were the fashion in those days, and very much later. When Nelson was bound for the Baltic, as second in command under Sir Hyde Parker, with whom he was never upon cordial terms, he set his men fishing for turbot on the Doggerbank, and, having caught one, despatched it in a boat to his chief, in spite of a heavy sea and approaching darkness, with a polite note; the mission was accomplished without mishap, and the turbot is said to have brought about a better understanding between the Admirals. Such measures of policy were not, however, very much in Nelson's line. The point is that the seamen of those times must have been very masterly boatmen, for the lowering and hoisting of a boat in a heavy sea is a very ticklish process, in which a small blunder may mean disaster; yet it was constantly done, just for a friendly visit, and we hear of no fatalities arising therefrom. On October 22nd we hear of more trouble from insubordination. Mr. Page, second mate of the Duchess, refusing to accompany Cook, who was Courtney's second in command, on board the Duke, "occasioned Captain Cook, being the superior officer on board, to strike him, whereupon Page struck him again, and several blows passed; but at last Page was forced into the boat, and brought on board of us. And Captain Cook and others telling us what mutiny had passed, we ordered Page on the forecastle into the bilboes" (leg-irons sliding upon a long iron bar). Page, however, evaded his captors by a ruse and jumped overboard to swim back to his own ship—a dangerous business, somewhere near the Equator, for there is always the chance of a shark. But this foolish attempt availed him little: he was brought back, flogged, and put in irons; and he found a week of this kind of thing sufficient, submitting himself humbly and promising amendment. Captain Rogers was already beginning to realise that the lot of a privateer commander, unless he is willing, as so many were, to degenerate into a mere filibuster, is not a happy one. Possibly it was this conviction—or maybe that he found the Southern Hemisphere a more devotional environment than the Northern—which occasioned the following entry: "At five last night we were on the Equinoctial [the Equator].... This day we began to read prayers in both ships mornings or evenings, as opportunity would permit, according to the Church of England, designing to continue it the term of the voyage." Passing by the small island of Trinidad, on the night of November 13th, the two ships lay to, Rogers believing they were near land: and sure enough, at daybreak they sighted the coast of Brazil, and a few days later anchored at Isle Grande, just to the southward of Rio Janeiro. Here they were very busy—heeling both vessels to clean the bottoms, and executing sundry repairs aloft—all of which was done under a broiling sun, besides getting in a plentiful supply of wood and water, in so short a space of time that we must conclude that Captain Rogers and Captain Courtney had under them both well-disciplined and willing crews; no man-of-war's men could have done better. Here also Mr. Carleton Vanbrugh, owner's agent on board the Duke, got into trouble for assuming executive command. A boat being manned to overhaul a passing canoe, he shoved off, without any orders, pursued and fired into the canoe, killing an Indian. This officiousness and presumption obtained for him a wigging from Captain Rogers, who also brought the matter before the council: "I thought it a fit time now to resent ignorant and wilful actions publicly, and to show the vanity and mischief of 'em, rather than to delay or excuse such proceedings; which would have made the distemper too prevalent, and brought all to remediless confusion, had we indulged conceited persons with a liberty of hazarding the fairest opportunities of success." Mr. Vanbrugh was accordingly "logged" as being censured by the council, and was subsequently transferred to the Duchess, his opposite number there, William Bath, taking his place. On December 3rd they sailed from Isle Grande and made their way down the coast of South America towards Cape Horn, chasing but losing a large French ship on the 26th. On New Year's Day there was a large tub of hot punch on the quarter-deck, of which every man had over a pint to drink the health of the owners and absent friends, a happy New Year, a good voyage, and a safe return. The Duke bore down close to her consort, and there, rolling and lurching at close quarters in the big seas, they exchanged cheers and good wishes. On January 5th it came on to blow hard, with a heavy sea, and while the mainyard was being lowered on board the Duchess the sail got aback, and a great portion of it bagged in the water on the lee side, the "lift" on that side having given way. This was rather a serious business, in so heavy a sea; they were obliged to put the ship before the wind for a time, and the sea "broke in the cabin windows, and over their stern, filling their steerage and waist, and had like to have spoiled several men; but, God be thanked, all was otherwise indifferent well with 'em, only they were intolerably cold, and everything wet." Next day Rogers found them "in a very orderly pickle, with all their clothes drying, the ship and rigging covered with them from the deck to the maintop." Though it was high summer in these southern latitudes, they experienced no genial warmth, only gales of wind, with an immense sea; they attained the latitude of 61.53 South, which, as Rogers remarks, was probably the furthest south reached at that time; and so they fought round the Horn, and before the end of January we find the entry: "This is an excellent climate." This was in latitude 36.36 South, and they were looking forward anxiously to sighting the island of Juan Fernandez. Many of the men had suffered greatly from cold and exposure, some were down with scurvy, and a rest in port, with fresh vegetables and sweet water, was very necessary. Juan Fernandez was not in those days accurately placed on the chart, and all eyes no doubt were turned to William Dampier to bring them there; which he did on January 31st, though they appear to have had a narrow escape of missing it, for when they sighted land it bore W.S.W., so that they had already somewhat overshot it. When we consider the very inadequate means which these men possessed for navigating thousands of leagues of trackless ocean, and making land which was very inefficiently charted, we can only marvel at their success. The quadrant of those days was a very rough affair, the compass was not perfect in construction, neither were its vagaries understood as they are at the present day—for the compass, emblem of faithfulness and constancy, is, alas! a most capricious and inconstant friend; only we understand it nowadays, and realise that it never—or hardly ever—points due north. Then chronometers, sufficiently reliable to give correct longitude, were not constructed until some sixty years later, when the earliest maker contrived to turn out, to his credit, a marvellously good one. This was John Harrison, and very scurvily he was treated by the authorities, only receiving the full reward which was offered upon the intervention of King George III. on his behalf. Well, here was Juan Fernandez, and very welcome was the sight of the high land, some five-and-twenty miles distant; but they were becalmed, and got but little nearer for twenty-four hours. Next day, in the afternoon, Rogers consented, rather against his better judgment, to Dover taking a boat in, the land being then at least twelve miles distant. At dark, a bright light was observed on shore, and the boat returned at 2 a.m., Dover having been afraid to land, not knowing what the light could mean. The general idea was that there were French ships at anchor, and all was prepared for action: "We must either fight 'em or want water, etc." These desperate measures were not, however, necessary; sailing along the land the following day, the two bays, which afford good anchorage, were found to be empty. The yawl was sent in at noon, and after some hours the pinnace was despatched to see what had become of her; for it was feared that the Spaniards might be in possession. Presently, however, the pinnace arrived, and, as she approached, it was seen that she carried a passenger—a most fantastic and picturesque person, attired in obviously home-made garments of goatskin. This, of course, was Alexander Selkirk. On the afternoon of January 31st, sweeping the horizon, as he did so constantly, from his look-out, he had seen the two sails in the offing. As they gradually rose, his experienced eye told him that they were English; dusk was settling down, and they were still a long way off—would they pass by? Reasonably contented as he had latterly been in his solitude—broken in upon twice by Spaniards, who upon one occasion saw and chased him, forcing him to take refuge in a tree—the sight of these two English ships filled him with a frantic longing to grasp the hand of a countryman, to hear and speak once more his native language. Mad with apprehension lest this joy should be torn, as it were, from his very grasp, he hastily collected materials, and, as darkness set in, lit a huge bonfire. He spent a couple of sleepless nights, keeping up his fire, and preparing some goat's-meat for guests who, he fondly hoped, would appear on the following day. He saw the boat approaching, and, taking a stick with a rude flag attached, ran down to the beach—they saw him—they shouted to him to point out a good landing place. In a transport of joy at the sound of their voices, he ran round with incredible swiftness, waving them with his flag to follow him. When they landed he could only embrace them; his emotion was too deep, his speech too rusty—no words could he find; while they, on their part, were mute with surprise at his wild and uncouth appearance. Recovering themselves at length, Selkirk entertained them as best he could with some of the goat's-flesh which he had prepared, and while they ate he gave them some account of his sojourn and adventures on the island. There is but little in common with De Foe's description of Robinson Crusoe's doings, excepting, of course, the expedients adopted for obtaining food, which could scarcely have been different. There was no "man Friday," no mysterious footprint in the sand, no encounter with savages. There was, however, a narrow escape, already alluded to, of capture by Spanish sailors; a fate to which Selkirk decided that he preferred his solitary existence, for the Spaniards would either have ruthlessly murdered him or sold him as a slave to work in their mines. So when he found that he had incautiously exposed himself while reconnoitring, he ran for the woods, the Spaniards in chase; but he had acquired such fleetness of foot in catching the goats that they had no chance, and, sitting aloft in a large tree, he saw them below, completely at fault. They helped themselves to some of the goats, and retired. In describing his adventures and emotions, Selkirk attributed his eventual contentment in his solitude to his religious training. He appears to have possessed in full measure the deep, emotional religious temperament of the Scots, and this in all probability saved his reason, and certainly deterred him from suicide, which at one time presented itself as the only possible release from acute mental suffering. He used to recite his prayers and sing familiar hymns aloud, and it is easy to understand what an immense solace such exercises were to him. Learning from Dover and his companions that William Dampier was with the expedition, Selkirk demurred at once to going on board. Not that he had any personal quarrel with Dampier, but he had a most vivid recollection of the hopeless mismanagement of that cruise under his command; of the futile delays, half-fought actions, hastily abandoned plans which promised some measure of success; and he declined to enlist again under such an incompetent chief. This extreme reluctance on Selkirk's part to sail again under the famous navigator constitutes a very strong indictment against Dampier as commander of a privateer; nothing, indeed, could well be stronger. When a man says practically, "I prefer to remain alone on an island to sailing under him," there appears to be little more to be said. Understanding, however, that Dampier occupied a subordinate position as pilot, he was ready enough to accompany his rescuers; and so presented himself to the "admiring" gaze—using the term as it was frequently used in those days—of the crew of the Duke. Whatever Selkirk may have thought of Dampier, the latter, recognising him as the former sailing-master of the Cinque Ports, gave him the highest character, declaring that he was the best man on board Stradling's ship; upon which Rogers at once engaged him as a mate on the Duke, in which capacity he was, we are told, greatly respected, "as well on account of his singular adventure as of his skill and good conduct; for, having had his books with him, he had improved himself much in navigation during his solitude." Such application appears, under the circumstances, almost heroic; there are probably few men so situated who would have had recourse to it. It was long before Selkirk began to throw off the reserve which was the natural outcome of his solitude, and it is said that the expression of his face was fixed and sedate even after his return to England; nothing, indeed, could ever efface the recollection of those years of absolute loneliness, the grim lessons of self-restraint, endurance, and resignation, so hardly learned. [5] The reader may be interested to learn that this Thomas Dover was the inventor of the well-known preparation, "Dover's Powder." After his adventures with Woodes Rogers he settled down as a regular practitioner, and in the year 1733 he published a book entitled, "The Ancient Physician's Legacy to his Country," in which the recipe for Dover's Powder appeared; it was afterwards altered, but retained the name. Dover died in 1742. Rogers and his companions made no long stay at Juan Fernandez. Having now arrived upon their cruising ground, all were eager to be at work, and on February 14th they were once more under way, the banished Vanbrugh being received on board the Duke again. "I hope for the best," says Captain Rogers doubtfully. On the 17th a committee-meeting was held at sea, in order to appoint responsible persons for the custody of "plunder." There was evidently considerable anxiety among the superior officers on this head. Rogers and Courtney, and probably most of the officers, were perfectly straight and aboveboard; but no certainty could be felt about any one else, so the following plan was adopted: Four persons were selected by the officers and men of the Duke, two of whom were to act on board the Duchess; similarly, four were selected on board the latter, two of whom were to go on board the Duke; thus the interests of each ship's company were equally safeguarded; and to these "plunder guardians" the council addressed a letter containing detailed instructions for their guidance. Every probable contingency was provided for, and the letter concluded: "You are by no means to be rude in your office, but to do everything as quiet and easy as possible; and to demean yourselves so towards those employed by Captain Courtney (or Captain Rogers) that we may have no manner of disturbance or complaint; still observing that you be not over-awed, nor deceived of what is your due, in the behalf of the officers and men." A difficult and thankless office, one would say; nor did this device avail to prevent discord later on. They were now bound for the small island of Lobos, off the coast of Peru, which was to be their starting-point for the conquest of Guayaquil; and on March 16th they captured a small Spanish vessel, which they took with them into Lobos on the following day. From the crew of this vessel they heard some news about Captain Stradling, who, it appears, lost the Cinque Ports on the Peruvian coast, and with half a dozen men, the only survivors, had been for upwards of four years in prison at Lima, "where they lived much worse than our Governor Selkirk, whom they left on the island Juan Fernandez." This little bark Rogers resolved to convert into a privateer, as she seemed to be a fast sailer; and the business was accomplished with remarkable celerity. On March 18th she was hauled up dry, cleaned, launched, and named the Beginning, Captain Edward Cooke being appointed to command her. A spare topmast of the Duke was fitted as a mast, and a spare mizzen-topsail altered as a sail for her. By the evening of the 19th she was rigged, had four swivel-guns mounted, and a deck nearly completed; on the 20th she was manned and victualled, and sailed out of the harbour, exchanging cheers with the Duke, to join the Duchess cruising outside: a very smart piece of work. Another small prize was renamed the Increase, and converted into a hospital-ship, all the sick, with a doctor from each ship, being sent on board her; Alexander Selkirk in command. Rogers makes merry over the exploit of one of his officers who, mistaking turkey buzzards—the "John Crow" bird of the West Indies—for turkeys, landed in great haste with his gun, jumping into the water before the boat touched ground in his eagerness, and let drive, "browning" a group of them; but he was grievously disappointed when he came to pick up his "bag"—the "John Crow" is not a sweet-smelling bird. This impetuous sportsman was, perhaps, that difficult person Mr. Carleton Vanbrugh: for we learn later that, having threatened to shoot one of the men for refusing to carry some carrion crows he had shot, and having abused Captain Dover, his name was struck off the committee. The Spanish prisoners had some attractive stories to tell of possible prizes—it appears somewhat unsportsmanlike on their part, and one is disposed to wonder whether Rogers or his men put any pressure on them—particularly of a stout ship from Lima, and a French-built ship from Panama, richly laden, with a bishop on board. These two vessels were captured, also a smaller one; but the Panama ship was not taken without some misadventure, for the two ships' pinnaces attacking her insufficiently armed—despising the foe, a common British failing, for which we have often paid dearly—were repulsed with loss; and John Rogers, a fine young fellow of one-and-twenty, was killed. He had no business there, as a matter of fact; but, happening to be on board his brother's ship to assist in preparations for the land expedition, he jumped into the boat—and so perished.[6] However, the ship was taken next day, without resistance; but the bishop had been put ashore: a disappointment, no doubt, as he would probably represent a round sum for his ransom—the only use a privateer could find for a prelate! And now for Guayaquil, from the capture and ransom of which great gains were expected; but further disappointment was in store for Captain Rogers and his companions. In the first place, upon landing at Puna, a small town upon an island at the entrance of the Gulf of Guayaquil, an Indian contrived to elude them and give the alarm, so that the surprise was not complete. They captured the Lieutenant-Governor, however, who cunningly assured them that, having caught him, there would be nobody who could give the alarm at Guayaquil: surely an obviously futile deduction. They destroyed all the canoes, etc., which they could find; but, by the time they had made their prisoners, we may be sure that one or two had already made good their escape to the mainland; and later developments proved that this must have occurred. Moreover, they discovered among the papers of the Lieutenant-Governor a disquieting document: no less than a warning against a squadron which was said to be coming, under the pilotage of Captain Dampier—who, it will be recollected, had plundered Puna some years previously. The force of the squadron was greatly exaggerated; but there was the warning, a copy of which had been sent from Lima to all the ports. However, it was impossible to relinquish the attack, and accordingly, after some delays, the boats, with 110 men, arrived off the town of Guayaquil about midnight on April 22nd. As they approached they saw a bonfire on an adjoining eminence, and lights in the town, and, rowing up abreast of it, there was a sudden eruption of lights, and every indication that the townspeople, instead of being quietly a-bed, were very wide awake. The Indian pilot negatived the notion that this was some saint's-day celebration, and thought that "it must be an alarm"; very possibly the wily pilot had something to do with it! While they lay off they heard a Spaniard shouting that Puna was taken, and the enemy was coming up the river. Then the bells commenced clanging, muskets and guns were fired off, and it became obvious that, if they were to attack, it must be in the face of the fullest resistance. What was to be done? Rogers, not easily daunted, gave it as his opinion that the alarm was only just given, and preparations would not be complete. He was all for going on, but the others were not; and Captain Dampier being asked what the buccaneers would do under such circumstances, replied at once that "they never attacked any large place after it was alarmed." The buccaneers were not such fire-eaters as their own accounts and boys' books of adventure would have us believe: there was a strong spice of prudence in their temperament. Cautious counsels prevailing, the boats dropped down-stream again, about three miles below the town, where the two small barks, prizes attached to the Duke and Duchess, arrived during the day, having apparently been safely piloted up by Indians—with pistols at their heads possibly. When the flood-tide made in the afternoon, Captain Rogers once more ordered an advance on the town, but Dover again dissuaded him, and they held a council of war in a boat made fast astern of one of the barks, so as to avoid eavesdroppers. Dover advised sending a trumpeter with a flag of truce, and certain proposals as to trading, to be enforced by hostages. These half-hearted measures found no favour with the majority, but Rogers gave way and eventually they sent two of their prisoners—the lieutenant from Puna, and the captain of the French-built ship—who presently came back, and were followed by the Corregidor, to treat for the ransom of the town. However, all the talk came to nothing. The Spaniards evidently imagined that the English were a little bit shy about attacking, and so kept shilly-shallying about the terms, perhaps hoping for reinforcements; until at length Rogers lost patience, landed his men and guns, and drove the enemy from the near houses, the barks firing over their heads. It was a very spirited attack, and deserved success. Opening up the streets, they found four guns facing them in front of the church; but the supporting cavalry fled at sight of the English sailors, and Rogers, calling upon his men, immediately took the guns, and turned them on the retreating foe. In little more than half an hour the town was their own; and, had it not been for the cautious advice of Dover and others, they would have achieved the same result on the first night, before the treasure was carried away. As it was, though they broke open every church and store-house, etc., they found but little of any value; jars of wine and brandy were, however, very plentiful. Two of the officers, Mr. Connely, and Mr. Selkirk, "the late Governor of Juan Fernandez," with a party of men, paid a profitable visit to some houses up the river, where they found "above a dozen handsome, genteel young women, well dressed, where our men got several gold chains and earrings, but were otherwise so civil to them that the ladies offered to dress them victuals, and brought them a cask of good liquor." The seamen, however, quickly suspected that the ladies had chains and other trinkets disposed under their clothing, "and by their linguist modestly desired the gentlewomen to take 'em off and surrender 'em. This I mention as a proof of our sailors' modesty." Well, well; their "modesty" was rewarded by plunder to the tune of about £1,000; but no doubt their method of commandeering it was more polite than the frightened Spanish ladies anticipated. In the church Rogers himself picked up the Corregidor's gold-headed cane, and also a captain's with a silver head; from which he concludes that these gentlemen quitted the church in a hurry. It would have been well if Rogers and his men had seen a little less of the church, for buried under it, and immediately outside, were the putrefying corpses of hundreds of the victims of a recent malignant epidemic. An agreement was drawn up by which the town was to be ransomed by the payment of 30,000 pieces of eight within six days—equivalent to £6,750, reckoning the piece of eight at four shillings and sixpence[7]—Rogers holding two hostages meanwhile; but the Spaniards' mañana proved too much for them, and the amount paid fell far short of this. On April 27th they marched down to the boats with colours flying. Captain Rogers, bringing up the rear with a few men, "picked up pistols, cutlasses, and pole-axes, which showed that our men were grown very careless, weak, and weary of being soldiers, and that it was time to be gone from hence." John Gabriel, a Dutchman, was missing, but he returned on the following day; it transpired that he had lain asleep, drunk, in a house, and the "honest man," who was probably his involuntary host, called in some neighbours, who removed the Dutchman's weapons before cautiously arousing him; and, when he was sufficiently wide awake to comprehend the situation, restored his arms and advised him to go on board his ship: really, a very honest man, this Spanish American. Rogers declares that this was the only case of drunkenness among his men after they took possession: a fact which speaks volumes for the discipline. And so, on the 28th, they weighed anchor and dropped down to Puna; "and at parting made what noise we could with our drums, trumpets, and guns, and thus took our leave of the Spaniards very cheerfully, but not half so well pleased as we should have been had we taken 'em by surprise; for I was well assured, from all hands, that at least we should then have got above 200,000 pieces of eight in money (£45,000), wrought and unwrought gold and silver, besides jewels, etc." And now they were to experience some hard times. Sailing for the Galapagos Islands, off the coast of Peru, they had not been many days out when deadly sickness broke out among the men who had been on shore at Guayaquil. On the two ships, near one hundred and fifty were down at one time; there were a good many deaths, and the medicine-chests were not adequate to this unexpected demand. Worse than all, when they reached the Galapagos Islands they could find no water there. Again and again they sent their boats in, for it was said that upon one island, at least, there was abundance of excellent water—upon the authority of one Davis, a buccaneer, who frequented it twenty years previously: which induces Captain Rogers to discourse upon the unreliability of such adventurers' reports; but that did not help the thirsty, fever-stricken men. Then one of the barks, in command of Mr. Hatley, was missing, which was another source of anxiety. They were compelled at length to give him up as lost, and sailed over to the island of Gorgona, where there was abundance of water. Here they refitted the Havre de Grace—the French-built prize, which should have contained a bishop—and renamed her the Marquis; and here also they careened and cleaned the ships, and sent away their prisoners, landing them on the coast of Peru. The crew were getting impatient about the plunder obtained at Guayaquil, and on July 29th it was resolved to overhaul and value it for distribution, sending all that was adjudged to be eligible on board the prize galleon. And there was, of course, trouble over this business: a plot was discovered, a number of the men having signed a paper to the effect that they would not accept any booty, nor move from the upper deck, until they obtained justice. Their notions of "justice" not tallying with those of their superiors, pistols and handcuffs came again to the front, and the ringleaders were seized; but Rogers found himself compelled to compromise, for there were too many men involved, and he did not know what the crews of the other ships might do; so he made a conciliatory speech, and conceded a demand that the civilians, who were not seamen, should have their shares cut down—by which Mr. Carleton Vanbrugh and two others suffered. "So that we hoped," says Captain Rogers, "this difficult work would, with less danger than we dreaded, be brought to a good conclusion.... Sailors usually exceed all measures when left to themselves, and account it a privilege in privateers to do themselves justice on these occasions, though in everything else I must own they have been more obedient than any ships' crews engaged in the like undertaking that ever I heard of. Yet we have not wanted sufficient trial of our patience and industry in other things; so that, if any sea-officer thinks himself endowed with these two virtues, let him command in a privateer, and discharge his office well in a distant voyage, and I'll engage he shall not want opportunities to improve, if not to exhaust all his stock." Two or three small prizes had been taken during these few weeks; but after waiting about a long while for a rich Manila ship, it was at length decided that they must give her up, and sail for Guam, in the Ladrone Islands, and thence for the East Indies. The day after this decision was recorded the Manila ship hove in sight; two boats kept in touch with her all night, and at daybreak, it being still calm, they "got out eight of our ship's oars, and rowed above an hour; then there sprung up a small breeze. I ordered a large kettle of chocolate to be made for our ship's company (having no spirituous liquor to give them); then we went to prayers, and before we had concluded, were disturbed by the enemy's firing at us." They got up off their knees, and fought to some purpose by the space of an hour and a half, when, the Duchess coming up, the Spaniard hauled down his colours. This was a splendid haul: and they speedily learned that there was a second ship, of even greater value, in the vicinity. In due course they encountered her, but she proved too strong for them, being a brand-new vessel, very well built, with 40 guns and 450 men. Captain Rogers, who had hitherto come off unscathed from all their adventures, was very roughly handled in these two engagements, getting a ball through his jaw in the first and a splinter in his left foot in the second, both very serious wounds. While he was laid on his back, unable to speak or walk, he had to suffer a further trial of patience in a dispute which arose about the command of their valuable prize on the voyage to the East Indies and homeward, a majority of the council electing Dover to the post. Now Dover, as we have seen, was a doctor, not a seaman, and was absolutely incapable of commanding and navigating a ship upon such a voyage; but, having a large stake in the original venture, he claimed and obtained more consideration than was his due. Probably it was on this account that the gentlemen in Bristol had made him president of the council. Poor Captain Rogers, chafing on his sick-bed, could only protest vigorously in writing against this proposed arrangement, which was obviously fraught with peril, and his officers supported him; the thing was, in fact, a job, the majority truckling to Dover as a part-owner. The utmost concession Rogers could gain was that two capable officers—Stretton and Frye—should be appointed to act under Dover as navigators and practical seamen, and that he should not interfere with them in their duties as such; and under these conditions the prize—her name conveniently abbreviated from Nostra Seniora de la Incarnacion Disenganio, to Batchelor—was safely conveyed to the East Indies, and thence to England, the cruise terminating on October 14th, 1711. Captain Rogers recovered from his wounds, and made a good thing out of his cruise. He was subsequently Governor of the Bahamas, where he displayed great moral courage and resource under difficult circumstances; and there he died, on July 16th, 1732. In a volume entitled "Life aboard a British Privateer in the Reign of Queen Ann"—a sort of running commentary upon Woodes Rogers's account of his cruise—the author, Mr. R.C. Leslie, remarks, after the capture of Guayaquil: "Though Woodes Rogers himself would now rank little above a pious sort of pirate, it is curious to note from what he says here [about the buccaneers] and again after visiting the Galapagos Islands, one of the chief haunts of buccaneers, that he looked upon them as much below him socially." This is not fair to Rogers; he was entirely within his rights in sacking and ransoming Guayaquil, as a subject of a Power at war with Spain, and armed with a commission from his sovereign. It may not appear to be a very high-class sort of business, but it was conducted in this instance with great humanity, though not probably without some of the "regrettable incidents" which are inseparable from warfare—to adapt the saying of the French general at Balaclava, "Ce n'est pas magnifique, mais c'est la guerre." Rogers does not deserve to be dubbed "pirate," or classed with a gang of cut-throat ruffians like the buccaneers. William Dampier apparently had no more sea-adventures; he died in London in March 1715. Alexander Selkirk, returning to Scotland early in 1712, was received by his people with affectionate enthusiasm; but, after a time, he took to living entirely alone, and sometimes broke out in a passion of regret over his island home: "Oh, my beloved island! I wish I had never left thee! I never was before the man I was on thee! I have not been such since I left thee! and, I fear, never can be again!" One day, in his solitary wanderings, he came across a young girl, seated alone, tending a single cow; their meetings became frequent, and eventually he persuaded her—Sophia Bruce was her name—to elope with him to London. In 1718 he made a will in her favour, under her maiden name, and it is said that, after his death, Sophia Selcraig (for this was the original form of Selkirk's name), represented herself as his widow, but could produce no evidence of marriage; so it is to be feared that she remained Sophia Bruce to the end, while Selkirk married a widow named Candis, to whom he left everything by another will. He died, a mate on board the Weymouth man-of-war, in 1721. A monument was erected to his memory on Juan Fernandez, in 1868, by Commodore Powell and the officers of the Topaze. Thus, by a pure accident, he becomes a well-known character and a sort of hero; certainly, he displayed some heroic attributes during his sojourn on Juan Fernandez.
PRIVATEERING IN THE SOUTH SEAS
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V