Blackbeard- The Birth of America

by Samuel Marquis

  They walked past a pair of Quakers. Thache tipped his tricorn hat at them, but the two ruddy-cheeked men did not return the favor and looked at him suspiciously. He wondered if they recognized him. After all, he was conspicuously tall, with the parchment-like skin of a sailor and an extravagant, bushy black beard that was a rarity in the colonies since few men in the age of enlightenment wore facial hair of any kind, and certainly not unusually long and rebellious-looking beards tied up in West-Indian-style braids. He had bundled and tucked the braids of his beard to make it look more trimmed, but he still stood out.

  “Let’s keep moving,” he said, and they started walking again. When the Quakers were out of earshot, he asked her, “Is this all because you feel like you’re growing older? Is that what this is about? You’re still plenty young to have children and raise a family. Why you’re only twenty-four.”

  “I’ll be twenty-six this September, Edward. Have you been gone so long that you have forgotten how to count?”

  “I’m sorry, I forgot. But twenty-six is still plenty young.”

  “Likely more than half my life is over. That’s not young.”

  “All right, now you’re just being ornery. We need to go back to your place in Marcus Hook, make love, and then afterwards I’ll try to talk some sense into you. I’m not leaving you. I love you and you know that.”

  “Then prove it and stay here with me. You’ve got Governor Eden’s pardon. I’m sure that will protect you more than you are letting on. It’s a signed royal pardon.”

  “Aye, but I had violations after January the fifth of this year, which means that I am technically not eligible.”

  “Then why did Eden sign it?”

  “He gave me and my men the benefit of the doubt. Many of them hail from Bath County and were originally sent by Eden and his number two man Tobias Knight to the Florida wrecks in search of riches, so he feels some responsibility in looking out for them. I have also met the governor and Esquire Knight previously when I worked here in Philadelphia as a merchant seaman and apparently made a positive impression upon them. That’s why they were willing to help out me and my shipmates.”

  “Well then, I would say the governor’s signed and sealed piece of parchment adequately protects you and you have nothing to worry about.”

  “It’s not that simple. I need the Danish commission to erase my career as a pirate and guarantee me full protection going forward.”

  There were tears in her deep-blue Swedish eyes now, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty. “I don’t understand why we can’t just get married and put all this piracy behind us,” she said. “But at the same time, I wonder how you can ever be a father to my children when you have done the terrible things you’ve done.”

  “What things? I’ve never laid a hand on any captain or deck hand of any prize I’ve taken. My men have roughed up a merchantman or two to get them to reveal where they’ve hidden their silver and gold, there’s no doubt about that, but I can’t control them. I am only in charge from the time we decide to give chase to the completion of the boarding action and interview of the captain and his men. The rest of the time I wield the same power as anyone else and have but a single vote just like an ordinary seaman.”

  “I’ve read what you’ve done to some of the captains whose ships you’ve plundered. I read the Boston News-Letter, you know. Why I’ve got the clippings right here in my purse.”

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt. “You carry newspaper clippings of my exploits?”

  “Dastardly deeds is more like it. Here let me read one of them to you.” From her shoulder purse, she withdrew several yellowed newspaper clippings. “This is from last October. ‘We are informed that a pirate sloop of 12 guns, 150 men, Captain Thache Commander, took one Captain Codd from Liverpool, two snows outward bound, Soford for Ireland, and Budger for Oporto, and Peters from Madera, George from London, Farmer for New York, a sloop from Madera for Virginia, all of which met with most barbarous inhumane treatment from them.’”

  “That is an exaggeration. We didn’t harm anybody. The newspaper is lying.”

  “Lying are they? Then what about this?” She pulled out another strip of printed newspaper and began reading. “‘Arrived Linsey from Antigua, Codd from Liverpool and Dublin with 150 passengers, many whereof are servants. He was taken about 12 days since off our Capes by a pirate sloop called the Revenge, of 12 Guns 150 Men, Commanded by one Thache, who formerly sail’d Mate out of this Port. They have arms to fire five rounds before loading again. They threw all Codds Cargo overboard, excepting some small matters they fancied. One merchant had a thousand pounds cargo on board, of which the greatest part went overboard, he begg’d for cloth to make him but one suit of clothes, which they refus’d to grant him. The pirate took two snows outward bound, Spofford loaden with staves for Ireland and Budger of Bristol in the Sea Nymph loaden with wheat for Oporto, which they threw overboard, and made a pirate of the said snow; and put all the prisoners on board of Spofford, out of which they threw overboard about a thousand staves, and they very barbarously used Mr. Richardson, merchant of the Sea Nymph.’ If that’s not cruel and unusual punishment then I don’t know what is.”

  “It didn’t happen like that. The men were wild and rebellious, but no harm came to any captain or crew member.”

  “Are you saying the Boston News-Letter, the most reliable paper in all the land, is lying?”

  “Aye, that’s exactly what I’m saying. This brutal treatment of victims is only mentioned to make me look bad. The Crown is doing it so that the public will turn against me and other pirates when they are actually predisposed towards rooting for us. It’s all propaganda.”

  “Is it now? Shall I read another?”

  “I don’t know, can you?”

  She pulled out another clipping, her lips pursed taut with censure. “Boston News-Letter, Monday July 7, a mere month ago. ‘South Carolina, June 6. Captain Thache in a ship of 40 guns and two sloops and about 300 men, came here to our bar and took two outward bound ships from England.’ It then goes on to describe your abominations hurled upon one Samuel Wragg, his four-year-old son, and the other victims before concluding, ‘We hear that they are bound to the northward and swear revenge upon New England men & vessels.’ That doesn’t sound to me like the actions of a friendly sea captain.”

  “It’s still all propaganda. These newspapers have created the great Blackbeard, can’t you see? They have made me out to be this fearsome and ruthless villain so that they can turn people against me. That is precisely what the Boston News-Letter is trying to accomplish, probably under the orders of the Board of Trade or the bloody King himself. With their pardons they dangle a carrot, and with their newspaper articles they bludgeon us over the head to sway public opinion. This is the way they have chosen to destroy me and all the other freebooters of the Atlantic.”

  “You’re still a brute who terrorizes poor innocent people. I used to think that what you did was sort of romantic and that you were a Robin Hood of the high seas. But when I read newspaper articles like these, I realize that ye are a cruel man.”

  “Damnit, I am not cruel. I take from those who can afford to give up some of their wealth and I fight back against an oppressive Crown that doesn’t give a damn about the ordinary man.”

  “Oh yes, your cause is all high and mighty, isn’t it? You’re an American patriot, fighting against a tyrant king on behalf of the oppressed citizens of the New World. Fighting for this vision you have of a free colonial class of people who defy the king and strive for independence. But what is this America? Only you and other seamen seem to know what it means. Since the last time I saw you, I have asked people about this ‘America’ and these ‘Americans’ you profess to represent, and no one except sailors and a few half-crazed radicals know what I’m even talking about.”

  “One day, we will be free, all of us here in the New World. That is what America is—and that is what I have been fighting for all these years.”
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  “No, Edward, what drives you is the prospect of riches. You are no different than other men driven by greed.”

  “Aye, I’m as greedy as the next man. But in all honesty, that is not the main reason I do it anymore. I plunder as a form of defiance to the Crown and to show my solidarity with the common man and the colonies. One day, we will be the sovereigns of this land and live in a democracy where the very idea of a king is foreign. Mark my words, one day it will be so, and that is the day when we will be able to walk proudly down the street not as English subjects, but as Americans.”

  “Captain, Captain!” he suddenly heard a voice cry.

  He turned to see Caesar dashing towards him from the corner of High and Front Streets. Having left him and the other men in the Blue Anchor a mere hour earlier, Thache was surprised to see him and wondered what the emergency was. The black crewman ran up to him, gasping for breath. It was obvious that he had been running around the city for some time trying to find him.

  “What is it, Caesar? What is happening?” he asked him.

  “The King’s men were just at the Blue Anchor,” he pronounced. “Governor Keith knows you are in town and has issued a warrant for your arrest.”

  “The governor of Pennsylvania has ordered me to be arrested?”

  “Aye. We were lucky to be warned and Mr. Hands, Mr. Gibbons, and the rest of the crew are heading back to the Adventure.”

  “Were all the crew members ashore notified of the governor’s warrant?”

  “Everyone but Curtice. He was next door with a sporting lass, and we left word with the barkeep to warn him. We had to skedaddle out the back door right quick and weren’t able to tell him in person. The King’s men were on us so fast we had to make a run for it.”

  “Who warned you?”

  “A man named Crane, a Swede. He said he knows ye.”

  “Aye, I know Crane. Runs the upper ferry on Schuylkill and has brought supplies to me at State Island. He’s a good man.”

  “But why would Governor Keith want you?” asked Margaret. “Is it for crimes committed before or after you accepted the royal pardon?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I have no intention of testing the validity of Governor Eden’s pardon while I’m stuck in a jail in this Quaker colony.”

  “Governor Keith reported that you have been seen on the city’s streets. You are well known here because you used to ship out of the port. He has told not only the militia and police about your presence here, but other law authorities. That’s what Crane said. He got there only a few minutes before the King’s men arrived.”

  “What else did Crane say?”

  “Only that the governor thought the threat you posed was serious enough that if you weren’t swiftly caught, he would fit out two sloops and hire men to go after you.”

  “Go after me?”

  “He said they would patrol the waters off the Delaware Capes in the hopes of intercepting you and Charles Vane.”

  “Vane? Vane is here?”

  “No, but he has been prowling around Charles Town and is reported to be heading north.”

  “Who is Governor Keith planning on commissioning to come after me?”

  “Captain Raymond and Captain Taylor? Do you know them?”

  “I know of Taylor. He used to be a privateer.”

  “You need to go,” said Margaret. “This is serious.”

  “But I can’t leave you like this—there’s too much unsettled.”

  He took her in his arms. Caesar, realizing they needed a moment of privacy, tactfully stepped towards the railing several feet away and stared out at the river.

  “You have no choice, Edward,” she said to him. “You have to go now. You are a pirate, and they’re never going to let you be until you are captured or killed.”

  “But I love you and want to marry you.”

  “You need to leave Philadelphia while you still have a chance, sail immediately south, and obtain your privateering commission from the governor of St. Thomas.”

  “But…but will you wait for me? I could be gone for at least a year.”

  “I’ll wait for you. But I won’t wait longer than one year. That’s where, this time, I’m going to draw the line. Because I love you more than I have loved another soul in this world, I will wait for you for one year. But not a day longer.”

  He felt all muddled inside and yearning. “I’ll be here by next summer. You just wait and see.”

  “You’d better be, or I will be yours no more. And that’s a promise,” she said sternly, but there were tears of love and pain in her eyes, tears that made him feel a wrenching guilt inside.

  Why the hell can’t you just marry her and lead a normal life? he wondered. What is wrong with you? You’re going to blow this whole affair and lose her altogether, you scupperlout!

  Suddenly, she lurched forward, took him in his arms, and kissed him on the lips. He felt a warm feeling envelope him, but also a crushing sadness. She leaned in close to him, willingly and desperately despite the tears flowing freely from her eyes, and he felt himself spinning in a wonderful yet terrifying way, as if he was navigating a vessel through a violent storm. After a moment, they pulled apart for air.

  “I love you, Edward Thache. And that love will burn as brightly as a winter hearth for one year. After that, I don’t know. I know that, deep down, you are a good man. You want to mend your ways and be a good husband and father. But I cannot wait forever. I have been waiting too long already.”

  “I won’t let you down, I promise. I shall return.”

  She kissed him again. She tasted like apple butter and he felt as if he was under some sort of magic spell as they clutched each other tightly. When she gently pulled away, his body tingled all over. With tears in her eyes, she smiled up at him, and he felt the power of her emotions.

  “I’m going to be there for you,” he said. “Ye just wait and see—I shall return.”

  “I’m counting on it, my love. Now you can hail a launch from the landing at Vine Street near the Penny-pot house. It is less frequented than the quay at the Blue Anchor with fewer prying eyes and hopefully none of the King’s men.”

  “Right smart idea that be.” He took her in his arms again and squeezed her tight. “I love you, Margaret. I’m not going to let you down.”

  “I know you won’t, my love,” she said, the tears pouring from her eyes. “I know you won’t.”

  “Then what is it? Why do you cry so?”

  “Because I don’t want you to die,” she said.

  “But I’m not going to die. I’m going to make it. We…we’re going to make it. We’re going to marry and have children and live a wonderful life together.”

  “Yes, my love, we will. Now go, before the King’s men come to arrest you,” she said. And she was still crying.

  CHAPTER 48

  DELAWARE RIVER

  AUGUST 11, 1718

  THEY WERE ABLE TO HIRE A LAUNCH at the Vine Street landing near the Penny-pot house, thereby avoiding the more closely watched quay at the Blue Anchor. As they rowed towards the Adventure, anchored in the dusky shadows of the Delaware, Caesar felt badly that Thache had been forced to rush away under such desperate circumstances and leave his beloved Margaret behind. The young black man had never been in love with a woman before—as an overworked male slave growing up in South and North Carolina he had rarely had the opportunity to mingle with the opposite sex—but he knew what a traumatic experience it was to be ripped away suddenly from someone you loved. The final scene between Thache and his Swedish woman reminded him of when he had been torn from his family in West Africa and shipped as a slave to Charles Town. Both events had come about swiftly and unexpectedly and, like Thache, he had been powerless to fight off fate. Governor Keith had put out a warrant for the notorious Blackbeard’s arrest, and in the blink of an eye the man had turned from a pardoned pirate into a wanted criminal who had to leave the love of his life behind. It seemed pointedly unfair and Caesar felt a powerful empath
y for the man. He understood his pain.

  When they reached the Adventure, Thache instantly commanded his new quartermaster, Thomas Miller, who had replaced William Howard, to stand by to make sail. All of the crew had returned to the sloop except Joseph Curtice, and the captain intended to set a course for the Atlantic within the hour, hoping that would give the seaman sufficient time to finish his carnal pleasures and catch a launch to the Adventure. None of them had any intention of testing the protective capabilities of Governor Eden’s pardon while waiting in a rat-infested Philadelphia jail cell. Within the hour, Curtice came on board and the Adventure weighed anchor and began to make her way down the Delaware towards the open ocean.

  Just as they remained incognito when they had sailed upriver into port, they made sure that the Adventure looked like just another trading vessel plying the waters of the Delaware. They flew no Jolly Roger in the rigging, there were no name-boards on her bows, and the sloop’s bosun Garret Gibbons made sure all the gun ports were closed taut and the rail guns and chasers stowed below deck. Caesar had to admit the charade was working: he could barely tell the difference between their Spanish sloop and the various snows, pinks, sloops, and fishing vessels jibing to and fro en route to Delaware Bay.

  Two miles downriver, he stared back at the City of Brotherly Love receding in the distance. He had found the cosmopolitan Quaker city awe-inspiring, especially compared to dusty, tavern-less Bath Town and his first home on the continent of Charles Town. The Swedish and Quaker meeting houses, churches, and homes were noticeably larger and more handsomely and sturdily built than their Carolina counterparts. Fashioned of brick, sandstone, and granite with steeply sloped roofs of cedar shakes or metamorphosed slate, the architecture of the city and its surrounding villages carried a grandeur that surpassed anything Caesar had seen before. But most of all, he had enjoyed the freedom of strolling about High Street and sharing a tankard of ale at the Blue Anchor without anyone questioning him about what he was doing in the city or treating him like a slave.