Pirate Diary

by Richard Platt

  For a moment there was nothing but the slap of sail and the lapping of waves. Then the captain’s voice. A growl at first, it rose and grew into a terrifying roar. “Do you challenge me, man? Who is the captain here? If this boy is not to pay for his stupidity, then YOU shall — and doubly so.”

  I was glad I could not see what happened next. I wish I had not heard it, either. My uncle’s groans as the rope skinned his back sickened me. After I had counted nineteen lashes he fell senseless. Will’s tormentors then bundled him into the skiff, the smallest of our three boats — I heard the splash as it was lowered. By the time I was untied, my uncle was hardly more than a dot far astern. He will surely die without any provisions, and it is all because of my awful clumsiness.

  The captain’s fury is spent, and my punishment has been reduced from flogging to mastheading. Tomorrow I will be sent aloft and must remain there until summoned.

  Friday 19th

  Soon after dawn I climbed to the foremast top. I was allowed only some water in a leather bottle to quench my thirst. I was fortunate, for the sea was calm and the sun not strong enough to blister my skin. In fact, my “punishment” was more of a rest than a hardship.

  When the morning was half gone, a topman climbed to my perch to reef, or roll up, a sail. He brought from his pocket a hard-boiled egg and said, “Here, Jake, I was cleaning out the chicken coop, and I don’t see why Captain Nick should have them all.” Later, I got a lump of sugar and an apple (which is a rare treasure on a ship) as other topmen took pity on me.

  In the afternoon I thought I glimpsed Will on the horizon waving from his little boat — though perhaps my mind played tricks on me, for by then he would have been far out of sight.

  Just before sundown, I really did see another vessel, though the ocean swell often hid it behind the wave tops. As a reward for my sharp eyes I was allowed to come down and was given a bowl of warming soup.

  Saturday 20th

  With clubs we all hunted rats in the hold, for they eat the cargo, and there was much betting on who would catch the most. The winner caught nineteen. The lookout saw the ship I first spotted yesterday. She seems to be sailing a similar course to us.

  Sunday 21st

  Our whole world is turned topsy-turvy! At sunrise this morning the ship was closer and steered toward us. It was flying the Dutch flag. When we came within hailing distance a sailor shouted to us that they needed water. Our captain grudgingly agreed to give them a barrel, for we had plenty, and we shortened sail, slowing the Greyhound so that their men could come aboard.

  I was standing near the bows with Adam as the ship drew closer. “What kind of a vessel is this?” he wondered out loud. “She has too many guns for her length . . . and apart from the man at the helm there are just three on the deck. Where are the rest of the crew?”

  As if to answer Adam’s question, one of them forthwith drew a pistol he had hidden in his shirt and fired it into the air. At this signal, the ship’s hatches flew open and out rushed a swarm of the fiercest men I have ever seen. All of them carried weapons — short swords, pistols, knives, axes. Each either screamed curses as he ran or uttered a piercing yell. Before leaping aboard our ship, the first of them hurled what looked like a small, round, heavy jug on to the deck. It smashed, and from it burst a puff of gray, foul-smelling smoke. The cloud quickly hid the deck from view, but aloft I could see that the PIRATES (for so they proved to be) had hauled down their Dutch flag, and hoisted a black flag with an hourglass and crossed swords on it. Their topmen were also hard at work, lashing together the yardarms of the two ships, which were touching.

  “Damn your eyes, you treacherous rogues, STOP THEM!” Our captain’s voice cut through the smoke and the pirates’ yells. “Make sail! Make sail! Steer hard to port!” As the smoke drifted away I could see that the crewmen close by seemed not to hear his words. To my puzzlement they merely stepped back as the pirates boarded.

  The first to leap across was a tall, red-bearded man dressed in a fine frock coat. He led a crowd of perhaps twenty pirates toward the quarterdeck. There had been some half-dozen people on it before the attack began. Now all were gone except our captain and second mate. The pair of them had drawn their swords and pistols. They slashed defiantly at the onrushing crowd, but the fight was too uneven by far. In moments they were surrounded, and their hands tied. But the men tying them up were not the pirates — they were OUR OWN CREW taking them captive!

  Monday 22nd

  The pirates have taken over our ship. They say it is in better repair than their own, and fast enough until they find a better prize. After the attack, half their number stayed aboard the Greyhound and sailed it to an anchorage, where we ride as I write this.

  Most of my shipmates are delighted at the ship’s capture. As one put it, “Now the flogging will stop.” Indeed, this — and fear for their lives — explains why they did all but welcome the pirates aboard.

  Not everyone is pleased, though. Bart, our boatswain, speaks bitterly of the pirates. Today, as he checked the sails, rigging, and anchor (for these are a boatswain’s tasks on the ship), he said to anyone who would listen, “They are just common thieves. Had we not joined them they would have murdered every one of us, yes, as easily as you or I would cut the head off a fish.”

  Noah argued with him, “That’s all very well, Bart, but look at the way old Nick cast Will adrift. Was that not murder too? And is our captain less of a thief? He keeps back half our pay. If we jump ship we have not a penny. Yet if we stay aboard we are slaves.”

  Bart shook his head at this, but most murmured their agreement with Noah. For myself, I could not decide who was right or wrong. However, I fancy I will not need to choose, for the pirates outnumber us two to one, and they permit no opposition.

  Tuesday 23rd

  Today the pirates called all the Greyhound’s crew up on the deck and asked about the character and temper of the captain. Nobody spoke well of him, and Thomas, the seaman who had been flogged, showed the weals on his back. Noah urged me forward to tell how my uncle was set adrift. I did not want to speak, for if I had not lost the bucket overboard Will might still be with us. But the pirate captain encouraged, “Come lad, don’t be shy. Help us to decide what to do with the captain and second mate. Should we let them take charge again?” This so angered me that I shouted, “NO! Let them suffer the same punishment as my uncle did!”

  Despite the discussions lasting most of the day, we are still none the wiser as to what will be done.

  Wednesday 24th

  We slaughtered and butchered Dan’s goat today. It was a stinking nuisance when alive, but the goat’s flesh made a fine stew — a welcome change from dried fish and meat. Our cook gave Abraham the skin, and I helped him tie it stretched out tight to dry. He aims to make jerkins for both of us from it.

  The pirates have locked away all our weapons, and now sit idly on the deck, smoking pipes, talking, and drinking — which they do to great excess — from a barrel of rum which they took from our hold. In pirates’ slang there are one hundred words for “drunk” and just one for “sober.” Our own crew made willing drinking partners. Bart alone sits apart and clucks his tongue (though even he sneaked a drink from the barrel).

  Monday 29th

  This day the pirates took from their leaky old tub such sails, ropes, cannon, and equipment as they could easily remove. When all was stripped they fired the ship. The tar-soaked wood blazed down to the waterline. What was left sank with a roar and a hiss.

  I can write no more, for we have been told to cut extra gunports in the side of the Greyhound, and as Adam’s servant I help in this.

  Tuesday 30th

  Now that we have three times as many people on board, the ship is very crowded. It is worst at night, when the lower deck becomes loud with snores and the air grows thick and heavy. I awoke this morning with a taste in my mouth as if I had slept with a penny in it.

  NOVEMBER

  Sunday 4th

  In the short battle to captur
e the Greyhound, a ball from the second mate’s pistol found its mark and smashed the shin of Ahab, one of the pirates. Already the wound has maggots and unless his leg is cut off below the knee, he will surely die. All agreed that Adam would make the best surgeon, because he is handy with a saw. “Shall you help me, Jake?” he asked me. I agreed, but at once regretted it, for he went on to say, “Good, for after I have cut through a vein I shall need someone to press a red-hot poker against it. That will stop most of the blood and keep Ahab from bleeding to death. You can catch the rest of the blood in a bucket.”

  Though Ahab drank a pint of rum to dull the pain, he howled so loud when the sawing began that I swear the very fish on the sea-bottom must have heard him. Adam was a good choice: he took the leg off in less than two minutes and dipped the stump in hot tar to stop the rest of the blood and help the leg heal. However, Adam now complains that his saw was made to cut wood, and that cutting bone has dulled its blade.

  Tuesday 6th

  Ahab died in the night. Bart sat with him to the end, dabbing his brow. He also read him comforting passages from the Bible, saying that “Even a pirate who is full of sin may be saved.” Methinks that Ahab heard not a word of the Good Book, but his death certainly affected Bart. He now seems less opposed than he was to all of Ahab’s shipmates.

  Bart sewed up poor Ahab in sailcloth with cannonballs at his head and feet. For the last stitch he passed the needle through the soft flesh between Ahab’s nostrils. “That’s to make sure he be really dead,” he told me, “for the pain of the stitch would surely wake him if he were just asleeping.”

  Bart read a short prayer, and when all had said “Amen” they tipped poor Ahab into the ocean. The weights in his canvas coffin sank him quickly.

  Now we set sail again for Martinique, aiming to sell our cargo there as we had first planned.

  Wednesday 7th

  When I went below deck this forenoon to fill a bucket with water to wash the deck, I heard voices coming from the stern. The pirates were in the Great Cabin on the deck above. They were discussing what to do with our captain. By standing on a barrel directly below them I could hear every word. One said angrily, “Hang him from the topsail yard? Too kind! Let us slit open his belly.”

  This made me gasp, and one of them must have heard me, for he hissed, “Hush, someone listens. . . .” All were silent for a moment. Then to my relief they began again. A softer voice said, “Wicked he may be, and perhaps he deserves to be tortured and killed. But remember, one of us has to do the deed. Jim — you want to spill his guts on the deck. Will it be your knife that opens his belly?”

  Again the cabin was quiet, so it was my guess Jim did not want this murderous job. “Well then, unless this man’s ill-used crew will do the bloody business, I propose we maroon him.”

  This last bit I did not understand, but before I could learn more, a big wave tilted the ship and I fell from the barrel with a cry.

  I knew from the thunder of feet above that I was discovered. I dived behind some barrels and tried to curl myself out of sight. However, I was soon spotted. “There, over there! There is the scoundrel who dares spy on us!”

  The pirates gathered around me in the gloom. Two had their pistols drawn and cocked. A huge and hairy hand lifted me from my hiding place and set me atop a barrel. Someone chuckled. “Why, ’tis the carpenter’s lad!”

  Stooping, the huge pirate captain brought his face so close to mine that his red whiskers tickled my chin. “So,” he whispered, “you have heard what some of us would like to do to your captain?” I nodded. “Well, you wouldn’t want to suffer the same fate, would you now?” Before I had time to open my mouth or shake my head, he bellowed, “Then BE OFF with you!” and knocked me from my perch. Thus I escaped, as scared as a rabbit in a snare, but otherwise not harmed.

  Friday 16th

  Two days ago our ship moored off the shore of a deserted island. The captain and second mate are still tied together in the hold.

  We feasted on turtles today, for here they are plentiful. I ate more than was wise, and crept away to my hammock feeling quite ill.

  Sunday 18th

  We went ashore today to collect fresh water. However, there was a dispute over where we should draw it. Noah, our first mate, wished to look for a spring farther inland. “The water of a spring,” he told us, “is always pure. That of a stream is just as clear and tastes as sweet, but a dead animal in a pool upstream can make it unsafe to drink.” Ben, the pirate captain, would have none of this, and at his command we fetched water from the first stream we found.

  Tuesday 20th

  We left the island today, but not before leaving behind the captain and second mate. This is the meaning of “marooning” that I heard the pirates speak of in their meeting.

  As the pirates pushed them roughly from the boat into the surf, they handed the two men a musket, some lead balls and a horn of powder. I shrank back, fearing they would load the gun and shoot at us as we rowed from the beach. This made the men pulling on the oars laugh. “Why should they shoot at us?” they asked me. “They shall need every scrap of powder for shooting birds and wild goats to fill their bellies!”

  When we returned to the ship we fired off a couple of cannon to celebrate being rid of Nick and Dan at last. One of our crewmen could play the fiddle and he struck up a merry tune while we danced a jig upon the deck.

  My new goatskin jerkin makes me look smart enough — but now I smell like Dan’s goat!

  Thursday 22nd

  Today we drew water from the barrel we had filled on the island, and those who drank from it soon became ill. The pirate crew called the illness “el vomito” as the Spanish do.

  Though we do not have a physician aboard there was no shortage of cures suggested. Abraham had this: “My grandmother always said moss scraped from the skull of a murderer was by far the best cure.” Others proposed drinking pearls dissolved in wine or a poultice of pigeon dung. Fortunately we had none of these cures on the ship, and anyway, those who suffered recovered quickly after they had been sick.

  Sunday 25th

  The life of a pirate is not like that of a sailor on an ordinary ship. There, everyone must obey the captain without question. But this is not so among pirates. The whole company (which is what the pirates call those who sail together on their ship) chooses the captain and other officers. And though the captain commands the ship, the crew may replace him with another if enough disagree with his orders.

  Those that fell ill were still aggrieved with Ben’s decision on where to draw the water, so today we all picked a new captain. We chose between Noah, our first mate, and the pirate captain Ben. Even though the pirates outnumbered us, Noah was chosen, which pleased me greatly. Ben was a poor loser, and gave Noah an evil look. Though Noah will lead us, the pirates’ boatswain, Saul, shall have this same office on the Greyhound, for our own boatswain, Bart, is still a most reluctant pirate.

  Now we have a larger company and a new captain, the whole crew swore an oath of loyalty. As one of the few crew members who can write, it fell to me to draft the oath. I wrote it in the ship’s log, and we all made our mark at the bottom of the page. There were ten “articles” (or rules) to which we swore.

  The pirates take these rules most seriously, for they draw them up and agree to them amongst themselves. Many are deserters from the English, French, and Dutch navies. On naval ships, petty rules govern even the smallest things, and sailors are cruelly punished for breaking them. On their own ship (leastways the one they have stolen) the pirates make their own laws, and they respect these above laws made by others.

  1. EVERY MAN shall obey civil commands.

  2. THE CAPTAIN shall have one full share and a half in all prizes; the carpenter, boatswain, and gunner shall have one and a quarter. All others shall have one share.

  3. A MAN that does not keep clean his weapons fit for an engagement, or otherwise neglects his business, shall be cut off from his share and suffer such other punishment as the company c
hooses.

  4. IF A MAN shall lose a limb in time of an engagement he shall have 800 pieces of eight; if a lesser part, 400.

  5. IF AT ANY TIME we should meet another pirate ship, any man that signs its articles without the consent of our company shall suffer such punishment as the captain and company think fitting.

  6. IF ANY MAN shall attempt to run away, or keep any secret from the company, he shall be marooned with one bottle of water, one of powder, one small arm, and enough lead shot.

  7. IF ANY MAN shall steal anything in the company worth more than a piece of eight, he shall be marooned or shot.

  8. A MAN that strikes another shall receive Moses’ law (39 lashes) on his bare back.

  9. A MAN that discharges his pistol, or smokes tobacco in the hold, or carries a candle without the protection of a lantern, or otherwise risks fire on board, shall receive the same punishment.

  10. IF AT ANY TIME a man meets with a prudent woman and offers to meddle with her without her consent, he shall suffer death.

  DECEMBER

  Monday 17th

  Our ship has been sailing against the wind these past three weeks. To make a league’s progress forward, we must sail many leagues to port, then go about (which means change direction) and sail the same distance to starboard! Zigzag sailing like this is called “tacking” or “wearing.” This last word could not be truer; we are all utterly worn out from working the sails each time we turn.

  Tuesday 25th, Christmas Day

  I was looking forward to this festival, but I was surprised to find that not everyone on board celebrates this day. To the Dutchmen it was just another day (for they celebrate Christmas on January 5th). The English and French sailors made it an excuse for merrymaking and much drinking of rum. Seeing this, Bart said, “You will all burn in Hell’s ovens!” He disapproves of such jollity, and marked the festival with several prayers.