Captain William Kidd and Others of the Buccaneers

The next ship they captured was bound to Glasgow from Virginia. They found nothing on board they wanted but some combs, pins, and needles. For these Bonnet paid a barrel of pork and two barrels of bread. Directing his course toward Philadelphia, he captured a schooner bound to Boston. It proved a barren prize.

Soon after this he took three vessels, two bound from Philadelphia to Bristol, England, and one to Barbadoes. In these Bonnet found nearly a thousand dollars in coin. He robbed them and let them go. The two last days in July he captured two quite rich prizes. They were well supplied with provisions, and had between two and three thousand dollars in money on board. He turned the crews adrift in their boats and kept both the vessels and cargo. His own sloop of war, which he had renamed the Royal James, had become leaky, and needed repairs. He ran into Cape Fear River to find some secluded cove, where, far from observation, he could careen his vessel. One hundred and fifty years ago this stream presented a vast solitude, fringed by the dense and boundless forest.

As Bonnet was entering the river he captured a small vessel, which he ripped to pieces to mend his own. In one of the coves of the broad stream he was detained two months in making repairs. In the mean time a new governor had come to South Carolina. Tidings reached Charleston that a piratic vessel, with two prizes, was concealed up the river. The whole community was alarmed, fearing another visit. The governor and council met to deliberate.

Colonel William Rhet appeared before them and generously offered to fit out two vessels, at his own expense, and attack the pirates. His proposal was accepted, and a commission granted him accordingly. In a few days two sloops were equipped. One, called the Henry, had eight guns and seventy men and was commanded by Captain John Masters. The other, the Sea Nymph, of eight guns and sixty men, Captain Fayser Hall commanded. Both were under the direction of Colonel Rhet.

On the 14th of September the two vessels sailed. When they reached Sullivan’s Island, a small ship from Antigua came in. The captain brought the intelligence that just off the bar he was taken and plundered by a piratic vessel of twelve guns and ninety men, commanded by Charles Vane; that two other vessels had also been captured, one from the coast of Guinea, with between ninety and a hundred negro slaves on board. A pirate, by the name of Yeats, with twenty-five men, had been placed in command of the slaver. Vane had also captured two ships bound from Charleston to London.

Colonel Rhet, upon hearing these tidings, resolved to pursue Vane. It was rumored that the pirates had sailed south. Colonel Rhet, with his two sloops, crossed the bar, on the 15th of September, and directed his course along the southern coast, searching every bay and inlet. Not finding Vane, he turned north, and entered Cape Fear River in pursuit of his first design. In ascending the river both sloops ran aground, which caused considerable delay. Thus the watchful pirates learned that there were two sloops aground in the river. Bonnet sent down three boats, crowded with pirates, to attack them. The crews soon found their mistake, and rowing hastily back to Bonnet, gave him the unwelcome news that two well-armed sloops were ascending the river with the evident design to attack him.

Bonnet made immediate preparations for a battle. He had several prisoners with him. He wrote a letter to the governor, intrusting it to one of these prisoners, Captain Mannering. It was as follows:

“If the sloops now ascending the river are sent out against me by the governor, I shall get clear off. And I will burn and destroy all ships or vessels going in or coming out of South Carolina.”

What effect this letter had upon the governor we know not. But the next morning the tide floated Colonel Rhet’s sloops, and he advanced to the attack. The masts of the three piratical vessels were soon plainly seen over a forest-crowned point of land. The sloops pressed forward to attack on each quarter of the pirate, intending to board him. Bonnet, perceiving this, edged in as near the shore as possible. The water was shoal, and the tide being out, soon both sloops ran upon sandbanks. One was very near the Royal James, and could open fire upon her. The other was at more than gunshot distance. The pirates’ ship also grounded, and, fortunately for them, careened over with her deck sloping from her foe. Thus the sides of the vessel afforded a rampart, which protected the pirates from shot, and over which they could take deliberate aim at their antagonists.

To add to this calamity, the Henry, in which Colonel Rhet was, and which had grounded within pistol-shot of the pirate, leaned with her deck inclined toward the pirate. Thus every man was exposed. This gave the pirates an immense advantage, which they were not slow to improve. Neither of them could use their cannon. For five hours the antagonists kept up a brisk fire with their small arms. The pirates spread to the breeze their blood-red flag, and assailed their foes with oaths, taunts, and insults.

“Why don’t you come on board?” they shouted. “We are all waiting for you. Come as quick as you can. We will give you the warmest reception you ever had.”

Rhet’s men replied, “Be patient. We are busy just now. Very soon we will pay you a visit which you will never forget.”

The rising tide first floated Colonel Rhet’s sloop. Hastily repairing his rigging, which had been much shattered by the fire, he bore down upon the pirate, intending to give a finishing stroke by boarding him. The other sloop would, in a few moments, be afloat to join in the assault. Bonnet saw his case to be hopeless, and sent a boat to Colonel Rhet bearing the white flag of truce. After some time spent in capitulating, Bonnet was compelled to surrender unconditionally.

In the severe battle which had taken place, ten men had been killed and fourteen wounded on board Rhet’s sloop, the Henry. Six of the wounded died of their wounds. A few shot had struck the other sloop, the Sea Nymph, killing two men, and wounding four. The pirates, protected by the position of their vessel, lost seven killed, and five wounded. Two of the latter soon died of their wounds.

Colonel Rhet weighed anchor on the 13th of September, and on the 3d of October entered Charleston with thirty-four pirates as prisoners, and their vessels. The capture excited great rejoicing throughout the whole province. As there was no public prison on the shore, the pirates were all kept, for two days, under a careful guard, in the hold of one of the vessels. The watch-house was in the mean time enlarged and strengthened, and they were transferred to that building, over which a guard of the provincial militia was placed.

Major Bonnet was committed into the custody of the marshal, and imprisoned in a strong room in his house. Two of these miserable men, David Hariot, the sailing-master, and Ignatius Pell, the boatswain, offered to turn state’s evidence. They were also taken to the house of the marshal, that they might be separated from the rest of the crew. They were carefully locked up, and two sentinels, every night, patrolled the house with loaded muskets.

Three weeks passed before suitable preparations could be made for the trial. On the night of the 24th of October, Bonnet and his sailing-master made their escape. The boatswain refused to go with them, as he was assured of pardon in consideration of the evidence he bore against his comrades. The flight of the prisoners made a great noise throughout the province. The people were open in their indignant declaration that the governor, and others of the magistracy, had connived at their escape.

The whole community was panic-stricken. It was feared that Bonnet would get up another company of pirates, and take a terrible revenge for the hanging of his comrades. The government was alarmed both by the reproaches and the peril. A proclamation was issued offering a reward of three thousand five hundred dollars for the capture of the fugitive pirate. Several armed boats were sent to skirt the shore, north and south, in pursuit of him.

Bonnet had, in some way, got on board a small sail-boat in the harbor, and put to sea. But a storm arose, and he had no provisions. He was therefore compelled to put back to Sullivan’s Island. In some way the governor got an intimation of this. He promptly communicated the intelligence to Colonel Rhet, and gave him a commission to pursue Bonnet. That night the energetic colonel set out in his sloop, with a number of men for Sullivan’s Island. The two pirates had left their boat at the shore and wandered into the woods, where they had concealed themselves. Colonel Rhet tracked them to their covert. They were discovered in a thicket, with a negro and an Indian. As they endeavored to escape they were fired upon. A bullet pierced Hariot’s heart, and he fell dead. Both the negro and the Indian were struck down severely wounded. The wretched Bonnet, seeing escape hopeless, and utterly disheartened, surrendered. He was carried back to Charleston in irons.

On the twenty-eighth of October, 1718, a court of vice-admiralty was held, and continued, by several adjournments, until the twelfth of November. Nicholas Trot, chief justice of the province of South Carolina, presided, with other assistant judges. Before this tribunal, Bonnet, and thirty-four of his crew, were arraigned. The indictment enumerated the various acts of piracy which they had committed. All but two pleaded not guilty.

There was but little defence attempted. The crew pleaded that they had been taken off a desert island, and shipped to go to St. Thomas. Being at sea, without provisions, and in a starving condition, they were compelled, to save their lives, to take some food from other vessels. Major Bonnet took the same ground – that they had helped themselves to food which did not belong to them, but as the only way by which they could save their lives.

But their piratic acts were clearly proved, and that they had shared among themselves their ill-gotten booty. The speech of the lord chief-justice, in pronouncing sentence upon Bonnet, was so admirable in tone, that it deserves, with slight abbreviation, insertion here:

“You, Stede Bonnet, stand convicted of piracy. It is fully proved that you piratically took and rifled no less than thirteen vessels since you sailed from North Carolina, having accepted the king’s act of grace, and pretended to leave that wicked course of life.

“You know that the crimes you have committed are contrary to the law of nature, as well as to the law of God, by which you are commanded that you shall not steal. And the apostle Paul expressly affirms that ‘thieves shall not inherit the kingdom of God.’

“To theft you have added the greater sin of murder. How many you have killed, in your piracies, I know not. But this we know, that you killed no less than eighteen persons of those sent, by lawful authority, to put a stop to your rapines.

“However you may fancy that that was killing men fairly in open fight, yet this know, that the power of the sword not being committed into your hands, you were not empowered to use any force, or fight any one. Therefore those persons that fell in the action, in doing their duty to their king and country, were murdered. And their blood now cries out for vengeance against you. For it is the voice of nature, confirmed by the law of God, that ‘whosoever sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.’

“And consider that death is not the only punishment due to murderers; for they are threatened to have ‘their part in that lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.’

“As your own conscience must convince you of the many and great evils you have committed, by which you have highly offended God, so I suppose I need not tell you that the only way of obtaining pardon and the remission of your sins from God, is by a true and unfeigned repentance, and faith in Christ, by whose death and passion you can alone hope for salvation.

“You, being a gentleman, and having had the advantage of a liberal education, I believe it will be needless for me to explain to you the nature of repentance and faith in Christ. They are so fully mentioned in the Scriptures that you can not but know them. But, considering the course of your life, I have reason to fear that the principles of religion which had been instilled into you by your education, have been corrupted, if not entirely defaced by the infidelity of this wicked age; and that the time you allowed for study was rather applied to the polite literature than to a serious search after the law and will of God.

“In the Scriptures is found the great mystery of fallen man’s redemption. They would have taught you that sin is the debasing of human nature, and that religion and walking by the laws of God are altogether preferable to the ways of sin and Satan. I hope that the present afflictions, which God has laid upon you, have now convinced you of this.

“And consider how he invites all sinners to come to Him, and He will give them rest; for He has assured us that ‘He came to seek and to save that which was lost;’ and that ‘whosoever cometh to Him, He will in nowise cast out.’ So that now, even at the eleventh hour, if you will sincerely turn to Him, He will receive you.

“But do not mistake the nature of repentance to be only bare sorrow for the evil and punishment which sin has brought upon you. Your sorrow must arise from the consideration of your having offended a gracious and merciful God. But I need not give you any particular directions as to the nature of repentance. I speak to one whose offences have proceeded, not so much from his not knowing, as from his slighting and neglecting his duty.

“I only heartily wish that what, in compassion to your soul, I have now said, may have that effect upon you that you may become a true penitent. Having now discharged my duty to you as a Christian, by giving you the best council I can with respect to the salvation of your soul, I must now do my office as a judge. The sentence which this court awards to you is:

“That you, Stede Bonnet, shall go from hence to the place whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution; where you shall be hanged by the neck until you are dead. And may God have mercy upon you.”

On Saturday, November 8th, 1718, twenty-two of the pirates were hung upon the same gallows, at White Point, near the provincial city of Charleston. A few days after, Stede Bonnet, the gentleman of wealth, position, and culture, swung from the same gallows.

CHAPTER VIII

The Portuguese Barthelemy

Commencement of his Career. – Bold Capture. – Brutality of the Pirates. – Reverses and Captivity. – Barthelemy doomed to Die. – His Escape. – Sufferings in the Forest. – Reaches Gulf Triste. – Hardening Effect of his Misfortunes. – His new Piratic Enterprize. – Wonderful Success. – The Tornado. – Impoverishment and Ruin.

One of the most bold and renowned of the buccaneers was a Portuguese, by the name of Barthelemy. He was a man of some property, and followed the great tide of emigration to the West Indies. At Kingston, Jamaica, he heard of the great fortunes which were made by buccaneers preying upon Spanish commerce. Engaging in several expeditions, he became quite rich. Finally he fitted out a small vessel, at his own expense, which he armed with four three-pounders, and a crew of thirty desperate men, armed with muskets, pistols, and sabres. This sloop was fitted out in a British port, to rob the ships of Spain, just as openly as if it were bound upon a fishing excursion.

He commenced his cruise upon the southern coast of Cuba. But a few days passed ere he caught sight of a large ship, richly laden and well armed, bound from the Spanish colonies in Venezuela to Havana. It had, as he afterward found, a crew of seventy men, with about the same number of passengers and marines, and carried twenty guns.

When Barthelemy’s crew saw the size of the ship and the indications of her strong armament, they hesitated to venture upon an attack. All were assembled around the mast to discuss the question. The general voice was discouraging. Barthelemy’s speech was short and decisive. He was a man of few words and prompt action.

“We came out,” said he, “for prizes. Here is a splendid one. The opportunity must not be lost. Nothing great can be accomplished without risk.”

They gave chase. The ship quietly awaited their approach; “as much astonished at the attack,” writes Thornbury, “as a swallow would be if it were pursued by a gnat.” The pirates made a desperate endeavor to board the ship. We are not informed of the particulars of the fight. The result only is known. After several repulses, and a long and bloody conflict, the pirates raised shouts of victory on the blood-stained deck of their prize. Ten of them were killed; four wounded. All on board the ship but forty were killed. Many of these were severely maimed with bullet wounds and sword-cuts.

The pirates, having searched the pockets of the dead for their loose doubloons, threw the bodies overboard. Those helplessly wounded suffered the same fate. The survivors, after being stripped of everything valuable, were placed in a boat and cut adrift, to fare as they might. The prize proved to be worth between eighty and a hundred thousand dollars. Barthelemy found himself in command of a truly splendid ship, well armed, and well stored with ammunition and provisions. He had also his little sloop as a tender. Though he had a crew of but twenty men, he could at any time double or treble his number in the thronged ports of Kingston or Tortuga. As he was sailing around the western end of the Island of Cuba, he came unexpectedly upon three large ships bound to Havana. The pirate ship was heavily laden and ploughed the waves slowly. The Spanish ships gave chase; captured the buccaneers; stripped them; drove them with sabre-strokes under the hatches, and left them there to meditate upon the reverses of fortune and their own approaching ignominious death by hanging.

The notoriety of Barthelemy, as one of the most terrible of human monsters, had spread far and wide. He concealed his name, and his captors were not aware what a prize they had taken. The ship, containing the crew of pirates, was separated from the rest by a storm. She took refuge at Campeachy, on the western coast of the immense peninsula of Yucatan. Crowds flocked on board to see the pirates in irons. Among them came one who, in former years, had well known Barthelemy. Lifting up his hands in astonishment, he proclaimed in presence of the multitude:

“This is Barthelemy the Portuguese. He is the most wicked rascal in the world. He has done more harm to Spanish commerce than all the other pirates put together.”

The glad news spread through the town. There were joyful assemblages in the streets. All hearts were glowing with the desire to take vengeance on the man who had put so many Spaniards to death. The people appealed to the governor to demand the pirate in the name of the king. He was arrested, more heavily ironed, and placed on board another vessel. A gibbet was erected upon which to hang him. The governor did not deem any trial necessary. From his cabin window Barthelemy could see the workmen building the gallows, upon which he was to be hung in chains, there to swing, in sunshine and storm, till the action of the elements should dissolve both skin and bones.

The wretch had a strange power of winning friends. The captain by whom he was captured wished to save him. Some one secretly conveyed to him a file. He soon freed himself from his irons. There were in his cabin two large earthern jars, empty and very buoyant. Carefully he closed the orifices; bound them loosely together by a strong cord; lowered them cautiously into the water, when midnight darkness covered the sea. A sentry was placed at the door of the cabin. He had fallen asleep. Fearful that he might awake and give the alarm, the pirate stealthily approached him with a huge knife in his hand. By a well-directed blow the glittering blade pierced his heart, and the sentinel died without a struggle or a groan.

The pirate noiselessly dropped himself down into the water. Grasping, with one hand, the strong cord attached to the two jars, with the other he slowly paddled himself to the shore. The current floated him to the very spot where the gibbet was erected. There it stood, in its awful gloom, with the hangman’s chain dangling from its timbers. Even the iron-hearted Barthelemy shuddered, as at midnight’s dismal hour, he contemplated the doom from which he was endeavoring to escape.

He took to the woods. But few of our readers can imagine the entanglements of the tropical forest through which he struggled. Conscious that blood-hounds might be put upon his track, he sought a running stream, and waded along for a great distance in the darkness. He was torn cruelly by overhanging thorns, and bruised as he stumbled over rocks and stones. As the morning dawned he hid himself in a pile of brush, half covered with water.

The windings of the stream were such that he had advanced but a short distance from the town. The tidings of his escape roused the whole population. It was known that he could not have forced his way far through the entanglement of briers and thorns and interlacing vines, in the few hours between midnight and the dawn. The whole forest seemed alive with his pursuers. A thousand slaves were shouting in their barbarian eagerness. Packs of blood-hounds were rushing to and fro, smelling at every track, and making the forest resound with their deep-mouthed bayings. The alarm-bells of the city were rolling forth their loud and solemn peals. Bands of Spanish cavaliers, with indignation in their hearts and oaths upon their lips, passed within sight of the hiding wretch; and he heard their vows of vengeance. Thus passed the wretched day. “The way of the transgressor is indeed hard.”

Barthelemy, bleeding, exhausted, starving and tormented with the bite of insects, endured these long hours of mental and bodily torture, until night again darkened the scene. With the darkness he resumed his terrified flight, he scarcely knew where. His general plan was to reach some distant seaport in disguise, where he hoped to effect his escape as a sailor. Every hour he trembled in danger of being caught, and his only food was roots and berries, and the raw shell-fish he scraped from the rocks.

He forded streams where he was in imminent danger of being snapped up by the jaws of crocodiles. He waded through swamps, and narrowly escaped being suffocated in the mire. His shoes were torn from his feet, his clothes from his limbs. For fourteen days and nights he endured these tortures. His only guide was the roar of the ocean. He was travelling in a southwesterly direction. It was his constant endeavor to keep the ocean within hearing distance on his right.

There is manifestly no tendency in misery to make men better. The pirate, with all his woes, grew more obdurate and more cruel. “In these fourteen days,” writes one of his biographers, “he must have literally tasted death and anticipated the horrors of hell.” But this almost demoniac wretchedness led him to no prayers of penitence, and to no promises of amendment. They served only to whet his appetite for revenge.

At length he reached a large ocean bay, about one hundred and twenty miles from Campeachy, appropriately called Gulf Triste. Here, to his immense relief, he found a large ship of buccaneers riding at anchor. He signalled the ship, and a boat was sent to take him on board. With feigned glee the wretch told the story of his adventures. Not a word of penitence was uttered. There was not the slightest recognition that the punishment he had received was merited. On the contrary, he said to the pirates:

“I know of a ship at Campeachy, which is richly laden, and but feebly armed. It can be captured with all ease. Furnish me with a boat and thirty good men, and in a few days I will bring the ship and all its cargo to you.”

His request was granted. The boat was equipped, and he sailed along the coast, assuming that he was a smuggler, with contraband goods. In eight days he reached Campeachy. As the boat entered the harbor, the piratic character of the craft was so concealed that no suspicions were excited. At midnight the pirates cautiously approached the doomed vessel. As the crew supposed themselves safe in the harbor, there was but one sentry pacing the deck. He hailed the boat. Barthelemy, who spoke Spanish perfectly, stood upon the bows, and replied: