“JOHN?”
Mattera’s heart pounded at the sound of his name. Ready to meet his own fate, he looked up to face the pirate captain. Instead, he saw Carolina, bleary-eyed and in her negligee.
“It’s two in the morning,” she said.
“I’m researching. Is it really that late?”
“Yes, really. Can you make room for me?”
Sitting cross-legged on the dining room floor of his Santo Domingo apartment, Mattera was surrounded on all sides by piles of books and papers on pirates. It had been a week since his trip to see the oracles in Florida, and he’d done little but study pirate history since then.
“Come here, my pirate princess,” he said.
He pushed aside a pile of books and pulled Carolina into his circle. He described the pirate attack he’d just envisioned, pieced together from these resources. He’d known tough guys in his life, some of them legends, but few came close to these men.
Even pirates, Carolina said, needed sleep, so she insisted that Mattera hang it up for the night. Since he’d begun this phase of his research, he’d spent every evening working past midnight.
Mattera took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and put on his boxer shorts and T-shirt. In bed, he kissed Carolina good night and waited for sleep.
And waited.
He turned onto his side and adjusted his pillow. He flipped onto his other side and pushed down a sheet. Maybe he needed a drink of water—
“John?” Carolina said, “I was wondering…if you’re not too tired to talk…what’s so interesting about these pirates?”
Mattera smiled and sat up in the bed.
“You really want to know?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Then listen to this.”
—
PIRATES WERE BORN IN ancient times, on the day men first loaded cargo onto ships—or maybe the day before. They came from Greece and Rome, China and North Africa, and almost every other country on the map—bandits of a thousand eras who sailed with a single purpose: to steal everything they could from ships too lightly defended, or too terrified, to fight.
The pirates Mattera cared about came from a special time and place. They hunted prey on the Caribbean and the Atlantic from the mid-seventeenth century to the early eighteenth century, the Golden Age of Piracy. It was these men who swashbuckled and plundered in the books and movies of generations, and who haunted and thrilled the dreams of youngsters. It was these men whom Bannister commanded.
They flourished for much of the seventeenth century, taking prizes and striking terror into the hearts of merchant seamen, especially the Spanish, who controlled much of the trade and shipping in the Caribbean and Atlantic. Many countries considered the pirates to be the “scourge of mankind.” England loved them. By harassing Spanish ships, pirates made room for English trade and expansion. In the bargain, pirate ships took hard and violent men off the streets and put them to work, then brought back stolen goods to English markets and sold them on the cheap. Pirates spent handsomely to outfit their ships, and paid generous bribes to English officials. They drained their purses in port like men just days away from the gallows, which many of them were. If England shook her fist at these rogues, she did so with fingers crossed, bulging coffers, and an eye toward expanding her empire.
Many of the pirates got rich. If Spanish seamen happened to be terrorized or killed in the bargain, few in England seemed heartbroken about that.
And the pirates could bring the terror. In a letter to the secretary of state, one English witness wrote: “It is a common thing among the privateers…to cut a man in pieces, first some flesh, then a hand, an arm, a leg, sometimes tying a cord about his head, and with a stick twisting it until the eyes shoot out, which is called woolding.”
Another described the methods of a notorious French pirate: “L’Ollonais grew outrageously passionate; insomuch that he drew his cutlass, and with it cut open the breast of one of those poor Spanish, and pulling out his heart with his sacrilegious hands, began to bite and gnaw it with his teeth, like a ravenous wolf, saying to the rest: I will serve you all alike, if you show me not another way.”
The years following the English conquest of Jamaica were glorious for pirates and privateers, who preyed almost at will on Spanish shipping. Even Spanish towns weren’t safe from these marauders, who were capable of assembling forces of a thousand or more and invading places thought to be impregnable. Often, the Spanish could do little but surrender and pray for mercy. In Port Royal, gold and silver spilled out of the taverns and brothels onto the streets. The Golden Age of Piracy had dawned.
And with it came great captains, men of charisma and vision who schemed on the grandest scales. None dreamed bigger, or led more men, than Welshman Henry Morgan, who launched a series of great invasions against the Spanish. In just four years, he led rough and wild crews, sometimes by the thousands, on raids against Porto Bello, Maracaibo, and, in one of the great military triumphs of the age, Panama. For this, he became exceedingly wealthy, and a hero in both Port Royal and England.
Stories of Morgan’s ruthlessness were legion. One witness reported that, when a prisoner refused to cooperate, Morgan’s men:
strappado’d him until both his arms were entirely dislocated, then knotted a cord so tight round the forehead that his eyes bulged out, big as eggs. Since he still would not admit where the coffer was, they hung him up by his male parts, while one struck him, another sliced off his nose, yet another an ear, and another scorched him with fire—tortures as barbarous as man can devise. At last, when the wretch could no longer speak and they could think of no new torments, they let a Negro stab him to death with a lance.
When another man refused to talk, “they tied long cords to his thumbs and his big toes and spreadeagled him to four stakes. Then, four of them came and beat on the cords with their sticks, making his body jerk and shudder and stretching his sinews. Still not satisfied, they put a stone weighing at least two hundredweight on his loins and lit a fire of palm leaves under him, burning his face and setting his hair alight.”
For every person who witnessed such horrors, a thousand more heard about them. Reputation became the pirate’s sharpest sword.
For a time, it seemed as if the glory years for pirates might last forever. By 1670, however, new economic winds were blowing in the Caribbean and Atlantic. Legitimate trade had become increasingly profitable to the merchant and ruling classes. Uncertainty on the high seas and in the shipping lanes was bad for business, and was putting the fortunes of powerful merchants, and even England herself, at risk. And there were no greater purveyors of uncertainty at sea than the pirates and privateers.
In 1670, England and Spain signed the Treaty of Madrid. Among other things, it called for England to condemn piracy—no more privateer licenses, no more safe havens, no more markets for stolen Spanish goods. In return, Spain made concessions to English trade and shipping.
The treaty provided England with new commercial opportunities, some big enough to grow an empire. But they required peaceful and predictable seas. English officials shook fists and swore vows to eradicate the pirates, but through the 1670s, little meaningful action was taken. Pirates still had deep roots in the Caribbean, and continued to supply locals with cheap goods, contraband, and a steady flow of income. To great swaths of the population, especially the commoners, the pirates remained the good guys.
And they were getting better at their craft. By 1680, pirates were causing great disruption to the legitimate trade moving into and out of Jamaica. The governor called for Royal Navy warships. By 1683, they had arrived, four in all, including the Ruby, a 125-foot giant killer that could carry forty-eight cannons and a crew of 150. She anchored at Port Royal and would be directed by Governor Thomas Lynch, who had been charged with destroying the pirate scourge.
But it would take more than just the hoisting of sails for these warships to take on this enemy. More than twelve hundred pirates were thought to be operating out of Port Royal alo
ne. They had faster ships, could slip into shallower waters, knew the waterways and inlets and escape routes better, and had more experienced captains. And the pirates knew they would hang if they were caught.
Still, the sheer power of the navy frigates was enough to scare many pirates away. To those who remained, the rows of cannons aboard the navy ships anchored in sight of Port Royal spoke a simple truth: We are the hunters now. You are the prey. It is just a matter of time before we catch you. And when we do, you will die.
Governor Lynch sent the warships into heavy patrol, not just around Jamaica but to Hispaniola, Cuba, and other pirate strongholds. Often, the frigates returned empty-handed, but with every cruise they gained experience and savvy. Soon, they were catching pirates, most of whom chose to surrender rather than risk annihilation in battle. Pirates continued to flee from Port Royal and other safe havens; for those who remained, the prospect of the gallows loomed larger than ever. Every month, it seemed, England got better at exterminating these rogues of the sea.
Nevertheless, if a man were willing to go up against the Royal Navy, defy the will of a nation, spit in the face of wealthy merchants and plantation owners, give the middle finger to a governor, and sail in a world increasingly hostile to his kind, he might still make a fortune as a Caribbean pirate. To do it in 1684, however, he would need to be better than good, and brave in exceptional measure.
“And that was when Bannister made his move,” Mattera said. “He had everything, Carolina—respect, admiration, money, a future. He risked it all to turn pirate. Why would he do that?”
His fiancée didn’t answer.
“Carolina?”
Mattera could tell by her breathing she’d fallen asleep. Reaching over, he pulled up her covers and kissed her cheek.
“There was something calling to Bannister,” he said, rolling over and putting his head on his pillow. “It was more than money or power. There was something else going on with this guy.”
—
THE MORE MATTERA LEARNED about pirates, the more interesting he found their portrayal in Hollywood films and popular culture. Some things the movies depicted were true, others were fantasy, and still others were rarely shown.
Pirates, for example, were not known to make prisoners walk the plank. They found it easier to kill a man by hacking him with a sword or shooting him—and then throwing him overboard, no theatrics required. And they never buried treasure or made maps leading to it; they spent their money, often as fast as they could steal it.
But they did love parrots and taught them to talk, and kept them as pets during voyages. And they went into battle carrying as many weapons as possible—not to look cool but because guns of the day often misfired and took time to reload.
Mattera loved the language of the pirates, and even found a book dedicated to the subject. Pirates never said “Arrgh” or “Shiver my timbers” (which almost certainly originated, like so much supposed pirate language, in Hollywood movies from the 1950s). They did use terms and phrases such as “Ahoy,” “A merry life and a short one,” and several curses, oaths, threats, and greetings, each of which Mattera enjoyed. He scribbled down these favorites to yell at Chatterton when next he saw him:
—Eat what falls from my tail!
—Damn your blood!
—I’ll cleave your skull asunder!
—I’ll cut you in pound pieces!
—I come from hell and I’ll carry you there presently!
Some other things Mattera had learned from the movies turned out to be true as well. Pirates employed hooks and wooden legs as prosthetics, and patches to cover eye sockets, often for injuries suffered in battle. They wore a range of outfits, from the drab and practical to the most fanciful flourishes of gold, crimsons, blues, and reds, including feathers, gold chains, silk shirts, and velvet trousers. (Often, their getups depended less on sartorial instinct than what they’d recently stolen.) And they swore, drank, gambled, and womanized as if any night might be their last. “Whenever they have got hold of something, they don’t keep it for long,” wrote one contemporary observer. “They are busy dicing, whoring and drinking so long as they have anything to spend. Some of them will get through a good two or three thousand pieces of eight in a day—and next day not have a shirt to their back.” Mattera had known guys like that growing up.
Pirate views on race and gender fascinated Mattera. Black people sailed often on pirate ships during the Golden Age. In fact, black sailors often composed a large minority of men on board. Their status, however, depended on the time. Early in the Golden Age, black men aboard pirate ships were more likely to be slaves—either working as such, or as prisoners captured from ships and to be traded at market. Later in the era, however, many black men aboard pirate ships—perhaps even most of them—were full-fledged pirates, with all the rights and privileges of their white counterparts. They led charges into combat, earned equal pay, stood side by side with Blackbeard himself during battle—all 150 years before slaves became free in the United States.
But for all the racial equality, pirates almost never sailed with women. Just four or five are known to have worked as pirates during the Golden Age. Two of them—Mary Read and Anne Bonny—became famous, dressing as men and fighting alongside one of the most celebrated of all pirate captains, “Calico” Jack Rackham. Almost without exception, pirates viewed the presence of women aboard their ships as a distraction and a potential source of conflict and jealousy. On some pirate ships, the penalty for secreting a woman aboard was death.
Mattera could not get enough of these men. He absorbed pirate customs, cataloged their weapons, diagrammed their ships. All the while, he marveled at their criminal instincts. Wherever he looked he saw Gambino in them.
Like the gangsters Mattera had known growing up, the pirates worked to avoid violence and fighting. It wasn’t because they were frightened (they weren’t) or believed they couldn’t win (they almost always had bigger crews, stronger fighters, and better weapons than their prey). It was because bloodshed was bad for business. A battle at sea could result in casualties, ruin plunder, even cost the pirates their own ship. It also attracted the attention of the law. To steal quietly always paid best.
Most pirate victims understood whom they were dealing with and gave up on the spot. For their cooperation, they often were treated fairly, even generously. But there were also those who, for money or principle or pride, tried to flee or put up a fight. That’s when the pirates rained down their particular brand of terror, one designed to echo across oceans.
By squeezing a man’s eyes from their sockets, roasting him on a baking stone, or extracting and eating his still-beating heart, pirates did more than punish resistors or force them to turn over hidden booty. They also sent a message to the rest of the world: Do not struggle against us. We are crazy. It always ends better if you just go along. To guarantee they were heard, they often spared a lucky few, sending them home to spread the terrible word.
Not every pirate captain tortured or punished resistors so cruelly. But enough of them did it enough of the time that by the seventeenth century, the only weapon a pirate often needed was the design sewn into his flag. Unmistakable even at great distances, it announced not a fait accompli, but that a choice was at hand.
Mattera lost himself in these stories. Still, he was looking for something even deeper about pirates—for an insight into their lives. So he began asking a different kind of question, one he’d posed to every interesting person he’d met since he was a boy: How did you get here? The voices that began sounding from inside his books began to tell a singular story.
—
A YOUNG ENGLISHMAN OF the late seventeenth century might expect to earn his living as a farmer or carpenter or baker. If he were good with his hands he might become a tailor or a smith. But if he had a strong constitution and an appetite for adventure, he could step off the end of his country and find work on one of the many merchant ships that carried cargo and passengers to a world that was expanding by t
he day. A merchant seamen visited strange lands, stared down nature, saw places and creatures his peers could scarcely imagine. In the process, he learned to become a first-rate mariner, able to navigate treacherous waters and find his way by the stars.
It could be the hardest of lives. Often, the work was backbreaking, the conditions miserable, and the pay barely enough to survive. Perhaps worst of all, merchant captains exercised absolute authority over their crews, often treating them brutally and holding back what little salary they earned. If anyone objected—and even when they did not—the captain might whip, torture, imprison, or starve them. Much of this treatment was protected by admiralty law, which granted a captain near autocratic power over his crew. Such laws were deemed necessary to maintain order (and profitability) aboard the ships, but such unchecked authority opened doors to abuse and created a legion of predators at the helm.
Aggrieved seamen might leave the trade, but those who desired to stay at sea had few options. One was to join the navy, where provisions and pay were a bit better, and the workloads more humane. Discipline, however, might be even more severe aboard a navy ship. And there was always the chance a sailor might die in battle for a cause he might not agree with, or even understand.
The other option lay in the shadows. It called to the daring and it promised a far different life. To find it, a merchant sailor need only step to the other side of the harbor, to the other side of the world, to where the pirates lived, to the place where a common man could turn king.
Many pirates became wealthy, earning hundreds or even thousands of times more than a merchant seaman, sometimes overnight. They formed large crews, often exceeding one hundred, making for easier workloads and more carefree environments. They chased adventure, became comrades, lived life on their terms. Cruelty by pirate captains was almost unknown.
Of course, there were dangers to turning pirate, especially in the late seventeenth century. They risked life and limb on every voyage, and often hanged for their crimes. Still, if a man possessed a certain boldness, if he dreamed for himself glorious things, chancing the gallows made sense. By Bannister’s time, nearly three-quarters of all pirates came from the ranks of the merchant seamen, strong young men adept at sea, tired of bad treatment, and with little to lose. That made them a formidable force before they ever left port, a gang of the angry who, on the right day and with the right leader, might even take on the Royal Navy.
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