Blackbeard- The Birth of America

by Samuel Marquis

  “It will take three weeks to outfit my boat. I can set sail in early July.”

  Spotswood shifted his itchy powdered wig on his head, gently rubbed his bald pate, and smiled officially as the knock of hammers and scraping of saw blades reverberated down the hallway. “Splendid,” he said.

  “Before I take my leave, Governor, I should like to point out one thing.”

  “And what would that be, Captain?”

  “Many merchants here in Virginia and in the Carolinas believe that the men fishing those Florida wrecks are not pirates at all. It’s been said that Governor Hamilton of Jamaica and other governors have issued letters of marque to lawfully salvage the Spanish treasures.”

  “You’re referring to Henry Jennings and his gang of marauders who invaded the Spanish camp under Admiral Salmon.”

  “Yes, sir, him and others.”

  “Jennings and his ilk are nothing but pirates. They are the villains of all nations for their predations.”

  “But the laws of salvage are not clear.”

  “They are clear enough that Hamilton’s so-called ‘privateers’ are but simple thieves. They plundered Spanish gold, from Spanish property, while still in possession of Spain’s citizens, and in a time of peace no less. And they did this from a part of Florida further south from the Spanish territory lawfully claimed by Carolina at the twenty-ninth parallel. Furthermore, they also illegally disguised themselves with Spanish colors.”

  “So you consider my commission authorized by you as somehow different than the commission issued by Governor Hamilton?”

  “Yes. For the simple reason that it is different.”

  “With all due respect, the two enterprises sound awfully similar. If I take Spanish silver and gold, whether from the sea bottom or not, how am I any different from Jennings and his crew?”

  “Ye just let me worry about that, Captain Beverley. I am your guarantee.”

  “Yes, but why then did you imprison Captain Forbes?”

  “Oh, you’ve heard I had him locked up?”

  “Aye, Governor.”

  “The reason is not because he was one of the original salvors and drove the Spaniards from their batteries on the coast of Florida, but because he was involved in the illegal capture of a French merchantman. Unfortunately, Captain Forbes escaped from confinement.”

  “If you’re sending me to visit the sites of the shipwrecks and recover what I can of the Spanish treasure, is it not really just plain looting dressed up in the guise of protecting Spanish property?”

  “I believe you’re overthinking this, Captain. You and me, we are on the side of the righteous—we are not the evil, lawless ones here. What we do, we do on behalf of His Majesty—not to line our own pockets. That, sir, is the difference.”

  “I must confess that I am surprised at this explosion of piracy resulting from the wrecking of the Spanish treasure fleet. It seems to have inspired something approaching madness.”

  “The Spanish blame the British government for their losses, so diplomacy is essential at this juncture to the preservation of our overseas trade. Mark my words, this nest of pirates—which has been established on New Providence and is being built up by the addition of loose, disorderly people from the Bay of Campeche, Jamaica, Bermuda, and elsewhere—is going to prove disastrous to British commerce, if not timely suppressed. With this new thirty-gun vessel of force they have captured, they are already formidable compared to the number of merchantmen passing through these seas from Jamaica. That is why I am commissioning you to make inquiries as to their strength and designs.”

  “I am told that the residents of Carolina, as with residents in the Caribbean, have begged the King for some resolution to the lack of government in their colony. In my view, the sooner His Majesty clears out the pirates and establishes a legitimate government in the Bahamas, the better.”

  “The Bahamas hold the key to the Gulf of Florida. That’s why I’ve asked the Admiralty for an additional guardship. We certainly cannot rely on that gang of cutthroats in New Providence to police the area. The bandits claim that they will only seize French and Spanish ships, but as we both know they have already plundered some trading vessels belonging to these parts. They must be stopped.”

  Beverley stood up and gave a formal bow as he took his leave. “And they will be, Governor,” he said, firmly clutching his orders. “Together with the Admiralty, we shall drive these vipers from their viper nest.”

  “I am told they call themselves the ‘Flying Gang.’ As if they are some sort of sporting club. Well, I don’t believe that rabble will be feeling very sporting when we are finished with them.”

  “No, sir, I should think not.”

  “Godspeed, Captain, and for heaven’s sake don’t get caught by the Spanish.”

  “Upon my honor I’ll do me best, Governor.”

  “No, ye will have to do better than that, Harry. Don’t get caught—savvy?” And with that Spotswood—the former British Army officer wounded from an exploding cannonball at Blenheim—sent him off with a crisp military salute.

  CHAPTER 11

  THACHE PLANTATION

  SPANISH TOWN, JAMAICA

  JULY 27, 1716

  WITH HIS BODY ON HIGH ALERT and eyes searching the woods for signs of the King’s men, Thache put his booted heels to his horse. The fleet-footed Arabian lurched forward, quickly gaining him much-needed distance between himself and his pursuers who wanted to shackle him in chains. His father had given him the horse for his sixteenth birthday, and he had named him “Henry” after the legendary British privateer Sir Henry Morgan, whose romantic swashbuckling exploits he had listened to with starry-eyed reverence at his father’s side growing up in Jamaica. As he reined Henry and pointed the equine north again, his lengthy black beard fluttered gracefully in the wind beneath his tricorn hat. He had long been an excellent rider from his years in the fields on his father’s Spanish Town plantation, and he knew how to get as much out of a horse as a ship at sea.

  The eastern sky showed the first streaks of pre-dawn, and the air was fragrant with wet tropical dew and the sweet smell of cane sugar. The deeply rutted dirt road was rough and uneven but Thache paid it little mind as he galloped at full tilt, Henry’s neck stretching parallel to the ground and legs churning in a perfect rhythm. At one point, he came upon a British foot patrol and was forced to dash through the woods, ducking under low boughs and leaping over fallen trunks until he was able to return to the road. Soon, he reached his family’s plantation and coaxed Henry up the final dirt lane that led to the main house. Tying the horse to a wooden rail, he slipped quietly into the house, tip-toed to his room, stuffed his clothes and valuables in a pair of satchels, and woke up his step-mother Lucretia and sister Elizabeth to tell them the unfortunate news of his impending arrest and to say goodbye.

  With a pair of lit candles, they went into the parlor so they wouldn’t wake his step-siblings: young Cox, Rachel, and Thomas. “I am sorry to have awoken ye,” he said to them as they stood there startled in their bed gowns. “But I wanted to come and say goodbye because…because I know it may be the last time I see you for some time.”

  “What are you talking about? What has happened?” asked his step-mother.

  “You know how I told you that Lord Hamilton had put out orders that Jennings and the other privateer captains were not allowed to leave the island. Well, since he issued that order, the situation has gotten much worse. The governor himself has been arrested for complicity with pirates, and all commissioned and non-commissioned sea captains who have taken Spanish or French prizes are to be arrested as well. That’s me, my fair ladies.”

  “Good heavens,” gasped his sister Elizabeth. “So you think the King’s men are coming here to arrest you?”

  “Aye, they’ll be here soon enough. They almost got me at the Yellowfin Tavern.”

  “But how do they know it was you?”

  “A traitor there recognized me and pointed me out to the King’s men.”

&n
bsp; “Good heavens,” exclaimed his step-mother. “That is bad luck.”

  “The man’s a drunken lout named Forrester. He has an axe to grind against me for turning him away as a crewman before I sailed off with my commission for the Florida wrecks. I instructed my quartermaster, John Martin, to make ready the ship while I said my goodbyes to my family. I didn’t want to leave without bidding you both farewell, and I also needed to fetch some valuables that are dear to me. One of them being an engraved silver pocket watch from my Margaret, the young woman from Philadelphia I have told you about.”

  “If Governor Hamilton has been removed, who has taken his place?” asked Lucretia.

  “Peter Heywood, the leader of the opposition on the governing Council.”

  “So he’s been officially appointed governor then?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Aye, since yesterday when the HMS Adventure arrived from Britain. The Assembly of Jamaica and a former commodore submitted damning evidence against him to the King. As his first act as governor, Heywood has launched a full investigation of anyone issued a commission by Hamilton. The former governor is to be loaded onto the Adventure and delivered to England in chains.”

  Lucretia shook her head. “I’ve heard the Spanish were making waves, but I had no idea it was going to come to this.”

  “The Spanish and French are both out for blood. A flurry of hostile letters has been sent by the governors of Cuba and French Hispaniola. They name names. Jennings, Willis, Fernando, Ashworth, and several other commissioned privateers are on the list. Governor Ayala of Havana claimed that Hamilton was part owner of the vessels sent to raid the Spanish salvage camp at Palmar de Ayz. He demanded that all the treasure be returned and Jennings and the perpetrators seized and punished. Supposedly, the Cuban governor’s ambassador in Jamaica has traced some of the stolen money to Hamilton’s own house.”

  “What about you? Are you on the list?”

  He shook his head. “Nay, I’m not on there. But that traitor Forrester apparently told the authorities about my taking the Mary of Rochelle. The French are complaining, too, and that’s one of the vessels they named. Not only that but a little Bahamian sloop named the Dolphin recently showed up in Port Royal packed to the gills with goods Henry Jennings and his consorts had recently plundered from a French ship. Then some days later Jennings himself sailed into port with the Marianne in tow. Of course, she be much lighter now without all the coins and valuables she once carried that the good captain has fenced in Nassau.”

  “The French and the Spanish have no right to complain,” said Elizabeth. “Why they plunder ships just as often as we English.”

  “The French apparently sent an official delegation here some time ago and they carried with them a letter from the governor of Hispaniola.”

  “What did it say?” asked Lucretia.

  “The French demanded the return of the Marianne and another French sloop supposedly captured by Jennings. But the second ship wasn’t captured by Jennings. It was captured by Hornigold and myself and she be my current sloop, the Mary of Rochelle. She’s sea-worthy, trim, and answers sharp, which is why I swapped her out for the Margaret. But for some reason, the French think it was Jennings that done it because he captained a big flotilla along the north shores of Cuba and no one seems to remember me or Hornigold. Then when I was in Hispaniola, I careened and repainted the Mary and renamed her Margaret. It is she that is anchored in Port Royal Harbor now. I didn’t want to alarm you, which is why I didn’t tell you until this moment. I didn’t want you to know that I had gone over to the other side and become a full-fledged…” He left the words hanging.

  They looked at him in dismay, making him feel all twisted and shameful inside.

  “Please don’t look at me like that,” he said.

  “How are we supposed to look at you?” said his sister, whose face had reddened. “You’re a freebooter, a buccaneer.”

  “’Tis true, I am such as that.”

  “Father would be ashamed, you know. He gave us everything—and this is how you repay him? You could have been a comfortable planter living out your days in—”

  “I never wanted to be a bloody plantation owner! I am a seaman, by thunder!”

  “No, you’re not—you’re nothing but a lowly pirate!”

  “Stop this,” interjected their step-mother. “This is not the time to have an argument between blood brother and sister. It’s time to say our goodbyes because we all love one another and there’s no denying it. The King’s men will be here any minute and wasting time arguing amongst yourselves isn’t going to save your beloved brother’s neck.”

  “Unfortunately, I think they’re already here,” said Thache, pricking his ear alertly towards the front door. “Do you hear that?”

  The three of them stopped right there and paused to listen. Slowly, the faint sound of snorting horses, clomping hooves, and groaning wagon wheels drifted up through the warm Jamaican night.

  “He’s right, they’re close and getting closer by the minute” said his sister. “And they have a wagon, probably filled with troops.”

  He went to the window and the two women followed him. They couldn’t see anyone yet, but dawn was just breaking and it was still a misty and gloomy gray outside with poor visibility. Thache quickly checked the top pair of his three brace of pistols bandoliered about his chest. They were primed and ready to fire.

  When he looked up, he saw that they were staring at him.

  “It’s all right,” he said to mollify them. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Clearly, you don’t,” said his sister. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have the King’s men coming after you.”

  “You can poke fun of me as much as you like when I’m gone, but for now just give your roguish brother a hug. And you too, Mother.”

  They stepped forward and leaned into him, tears in their eyes now, and he embraced them, drew them close and tight, feeling the great lonesomeness that he knew he was increasingly going to feel now that he had set out on a path of piracy. There really was no longer any turning back—and they all knew it.

  “Please don’t cry, my bonnies,” he whispered reassuringly. “I love ye like I love the heavenly father himself, and my love will never die. And say goodbye for me to the little ones. I shall miss Cox, Rachel, and Thomas more than you know.”

  “We will. We will,” they said in unison, openly sobbing now. The sounds of the horses and wagon were growing stronger.

  Damnit, he thought, they must already be at the main entrance off the road.

  He hugged them tighter. “Aye, saying goodbye is the hardest part of this bitter life. But I will see you again, if not here then in the afterlife. Assuming that I can one day mend my evil ways.”

  “Don’t say that,” sobbed Elizabeth, clutching him fiercely. “We will see you again!”

  “Indeed we will, my son,” said Lucretia lovingly. “It is God’s will.”

  “Tell the King’s men I have gone to Kingston. Act surprised and ignorant of everything else, and shed plenty of tears because it will garner you sympathy and distance yourself from me. They know you belong to a good landholding family and will treat you accordingly. I love you both and the children dearly. Be sure to tell them that. Thomas is bound to be especially disappointed.”

  “We will, Brother. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.” He picked up his two satchels and rushed out the door to Henry. Down the driveway, he could see through the mist a pair of redcoated officers and an open-topped wagon clattering towards the main house. His horse raised his ear alertly and stomped his hooves then turned his head and looked right at him. He went up to Henry and whispered in a soothing tone to calm the animal before quickly fastening his satchels to the English saddle. Then he led the horse on foot through the trees along a footpath oriented at a ninety-degree angle to the driveway; it led to the main road down into Spanish Town and beyond to Kingston and Port Royal harbor. Once he reached the path, he climbed up in the saddle just as the King’
s men came clomping up to his house.

  As the officers and wagon rolled up, he took one last look at the home of his youth. This was the place he had come of age, an emotionally treasured place where he had collected frogs, painted tin soldiers, played hide-and-seek and leap frog, shot arrows with a cedar bow, learned to ride a horse, and read the adventurous tales of Drake and Morgan, Kidd and Avery. Deep down, he had the dreadful feeling he was seeing it all for the last time and would never return.

  He let his eyes linger for a moment as the redcoats armed with bayonetted muskets poured from the wagon, swarmed towards the house, outbuildings, and servant quarters, and began setting up a perimeter to cover all possible escape routes. He shook his head in dismay, praying that no harm would come to his family. And then, with the stealth of a wolf, he and his trusty horse he had named after his childhood hero Sir Henry Morgan disappeared into the night.

  CHAPTER 12

  WINDWARD PASSAGE, WESTERN HISPANIOLA

  AUGUST 15, 1716

  WATCHING THE SECOND BRITISH MERCHANT SHIP OF THE DAY sail past without Hornigold’s black flag raised to signal pursuit, Thache felt his heart sink. He knew that his friend “Black” Sam Bellamy, his crew, and two-thirds of Hornigold’s own men were close to insurrection, and this latest show of cowardice on the part of the Flying Gang’s leader, at least in their eyes, might very well push them over the edge. Ever since Hornigold had returned to Hispaniola with his newly acquired sloop Adventure and the separate pirate companies had reformed, there had been an air of tension amongst the men. Bellamy and La Buse were insistent that the consortium plunder English ships, in addition to those of other nations. Lookouts on the four sloops comprising the pirate fleet had spotted several British merchant vessels loaded with goods, but the flotilla’s commodore Hornigold, elected by the pirate articles all the voluntary seamen had signed, refused to give chase.