Noah beckoned to a topman standing nearby, and pointed at the sails. “Take some men aloft and hand those last two.” Then to Saul, our boatswain: “Stand clear of the cable and let go anchor.” Though he was just a few paces away, Noah had to yell the words to be heard above the storm. The anchor dropped into the ocean, and the thick cable snaked from its coils on the deck. It scarcely seemed to halt our progress.
I looked with alarm at the shore, for we were now close enough to see the waves breaking on the treacherous sandbars, and the wind was forcing us closer each minute.
Our brave topmen were handing the last sail when the storm struck. The wind plucked the sail from their hands and hurled it into the foaming ocean. Two of the topmen had lashed themselves on to the yardarm, but the third had not, and he followed the sail into the sea. We could do nothing to save him. By now, each of us had only one thought: to save himself.
Gigantic waves crashed over the deck, shaking the ship as if each one was a great hammer. I heard Saul shout to Noah, “The anchor’s dragging! I’ll let go the sheet anchor.” This is a reserve anchor, used only in the direst emergencies. But even with two anchors out we were still driving toward the shore.
The ship let out a terrible groan, as if in pain, and there was a mighty crash from above. Looking up, I saw that the storm had snapped the main topmast in two as easily as snapping twigs for kindling, though it is as thick as my waist.
When I saw this I was sure we would all perish, but soon after this catastrophe the storm quieted a little, and then, an hour or so later, it suddenly passed on, leaving the Greyhound riding at anchor just a mile from the Carolina shore.
We worked the pumps to drain some of the water that the storm had dashed into the Greyhound; Saul also checked and secured what was left of the rigging. Thus satisfied that the ship was safe, we all dragged ourselves to our hammocks, exhausted by the storm. I write these words soon after sunup, while others are yet asleep around me. As soon they awake, we shall all have much to do if we are to get under way before nightfall.
Sunday 12th
We have still not finished repairing the damage done by Friday’s storm, but we cannot safely continue until the work is done. The falling topmast brought down with it the upper topsail yards. As it tumbled, this stout timber smashed one of the boats stored on the deck and broke several of the rope stays which hold the masts upright. The boat is beyond repair, but we replaced most of the damaged stays with the spare cordage from the hold. The topmen have spliced together the remainder. Adam and I were kept busy about the deck, making good the smashed rails and other timbers.
The rest of the crew took turns at the pumps. The falling topmast smashed one of the hatches, and thus the sea entered the hold in great amounts. Worse though, the storm so twisted and turned the ship that many seams opened. Without constant pumping the Greyhound will founder and sink before the day is out.
Monday 13th
Our repairs are completed today, and we set sail once more. We cannot replace the topmast at sea, but we can spread enough canvas on the yards that remain to make good progress. Noah has decided it is not safe to sail for Bath town port, for it is yet sixty leagues away. Instead, we must return to Charleston, which we shall reach tomorrow, God willing.
Tuesday 14th
By noon today we had sailed up the Ashley river and reached Charleston harbor. As we sailed closer, we saw a grim scene. At the end of the quay, just by the harbor light, stood a crude wooden frame, its timbers bleached white by the sun and sea. Hanging from the frame was an iron cage, shaped like a man. And inside the cage was a man — at least, what was left of a man, though ’twas hardly more than greasy bones wrapped in rags. As I watched, a seagull landed on the cage and pecked at the skull. “It’s Jack Rattenbury,” said a voice behind me. “He was hanged for piracy two months back. That’s a friendly Englishman’s way of making an example of those who break their king’s laws.” After this, we were all silent until the Greyhound tied up at the quayside.
The customs searchers were waiting for us. They descended into the ship and had just begun to search the crew’s possessions when Noah dropped a purse full of pieces of eight — some ten for each searcher. As none of us stirred to pick up the coins, the searchers guessed that Noah’s clumsiness was no accident. Gathering the silver, they cut short their visit. Before stepping ashore, though, they warned us that we should present ourselves at the customs house on Friday to swear an oath of loyalty to the King of England, as the Act of Grace requires.
Friday 17th
Today our company went to the customs house on the quayside. There, each of us stepped up, one by one, before Governor Johnson. A member of his council read the oath from a piece of paper and we repeated the words after he said them. When my turn came, the governor bent down and stared me in the eye. “What’s your name, lad?” he asked me. When I told him, he said, “I am most relieved that you have forsworn piracy. You will no longer be a threat to South Carolina or a danger to the good people of Charleston.” This remark caused much mirth and laughter.
Every one of us got a letter to prove that we had promised to be pirates no longer, and we returned to the ship. Tomorrow, though, I must seek lodgings. Charleston merchants have got wind of our return and, as we guessed, they have taken the Greyhound and will auction her off to get what they are owed.
Monday 20th
I feel quite alone now, for this morning I bade farewell to Abraham and the others. They have all signed up with another merchant ship and left port today. I was tempted to go with them, until I heard that their cargo is salt fish! I shall miss Abraham especially, for he has been a good friend these last few months.
I shall set off home tomorrow to Holyoak to see my father. He will be most surprised to see me — and my treasure!
Tuesday 21st
This day I had such a wondrous surprise that I cannot believe my good fortune! I had gone for one last look at the Greyhound, when I heard someone call out my name. To my astonishment it was my Uncle Will! I had thought him certainly dead, but there he was, as alive as I am.
“I drifted for three days in that little boat, Jake,” he told me later, “until fishermen rescued me. The flogging had left my back like a piece of raw meat, but in time it healed.” When he was well he had journeyed to Charleston hoping to find work. “I heard that the Greyhound was in the port, and came to see if you were still among the crew.”
We had much to talk about, and I swear Will did not believe my stories until I showed him this journal and my purse. When we had finished our yarns, we considered whether to buy a farm with my Spanish silver. This we discounted, for we agreed we would miss the sea. I told him of the creek where we had careened the ship, and we pondered whether to sail there and salvage the buried cargo. We rejected this plan too, for the rice was not really ours to claim, and I have left piracy behind me now. Tiredness ended our debate without a decision.
Wednesday 22nd
Will and I have chosen to return home, but then to travel north to join the crew of a fishing ship in Newfoundland. They say you can dip your hat overboard there, and haul it out filled with fish. My bag is packed and we leave forthwith. Will is shouting for me. Who knows when I will next have time to continue my journal?
JAKE’S DIARY is a story, but the things he describes are true to life. Seamen really did become pirates to escape from the brutal treatment on merchant ships. But life was tough for landsmen too, and these hardships would bring about some dramatic changes.
Until he went to sea, Jake lived in a tiny village in North Carolina in what is now the United States. In 1716, though, North Carolina was a colony, a region of North America where European people had settled, starting about a century earlier.
North Carolina and South Carolina, where the Greyhound departed from, were British colonies. There were eleven others. Each was supposed to be an overseas part of Britain, but the colonists’ loyalty to Britain was often weak.
Many had fled to America be
cause in England they could not worship as they chose. Others came because the farmland was free or cheap. All of the colonists, though, were independent-minded people with strong ideas.
Life for the colonists was often harsh; cold, hunger, and disease were constant threats. Some were killed by Native American people on whose lands the colonists built their farms. The British also had to fight off rival Spanish colonists. The Spanish wanted the land the British had settled, but the attacks were part of a wider battle. Since the beginning of the eighteenth century, Britain had been at war with Spain and its ally, France.
Despite these problems, the thirteen colonies prospered. To make sure that Britain shared in their growing success, the government in London taxed and controlled the colonists’ trade. A series of laws, called the Navigation Acts, forced them to trade only with England, using English ships with English crews.
Colonial people did not like the Navigation Acts because the laws forced them to accept low prices for the goods they produced. Many colonists chose to ignore these unpopular laws. They sold their produce wherever they could get the best deal — even if this meant sailing to Caribbean ports occupied by the French. The colonists saw it as fair business dealings. The British government saw it as smuggling.
The people of South Carolina faced special difficulties. They suffered more than most from Spanish attacks because they were closest to Spanish settlements in what is now the neighboring state of Georgia. So they were enthusiastic supporters of the privateers — merchant seamen given permission by the king to attack Spanish shipping and settlements while the two countries were at war.
Peace and Pirates
When Britain and Spain made peace in 1714, the privateers continued harassing the Spanish, but now illegally, as pirates. Many of the colonists were reluctant to turn their backs on those who had once protected them. They aided the pirates by supplying and repairing their ships. In return, the pirates sold them their booty at reduced prices.
This cozy arrangement worked well — until the pirates’ customers tired of their wild manners and violence, and no longer welcomed them in colonial ports and harbors. However, as piracy dwindled, anger about trade restrictions increased. It flared into open rebellion some sixty years after Jake’s voyage. In the Revolutionary War that followed, the thirteen colonies broke from Britain, and the United States of America was born.
The First Pirates
When the world’s first sailors set off across the Mediterranean some 4,600 years ago, pirates were close behind.
They didn’t have to look far. Cautious sailors kept their trading ships in sight of land. This made life simple for pirates, who just anchored close to the shore and waited for a ship to sail into sight.
Viking Raiders
The Mediterranean wasn’t the only area threatened by pirates; they also attacked European coasts much farther north. Between the ninth and eleventh centuries, Viking sailors cruised the North Sea, the Atlantic, and the Baltic from their Scandinavian homeland. Traveling in light, fast ships, they raided coastal towns and villages as far west as Ireland, and in the east, deep into Russia. Later, Vikings became settlers, founding peaceful colonies in lands they had once plundered.
Privateers
All these pirates, though, looked like amateurs compared to the rival nations of Europe and their fight for control of the seas. Their kings and queens could not afford to build navies; instead they used merchant ships as “men-of-war”— battleships. These vessels were called privateers, which was short for “private men-of-war.” England’s King Henry III was the first to use them, against the French, in the mid-thirteenth century. He issued each privateer with a “letter of marque,” a piracy permit. This authorized the captain of a merchant ship to attack the enemy on the king’s behalf. King and captain each took half the spoils. In practice, many privateers went further. They didn’t look too closely to see which country’s flag flew from their victims’ masts.
When war ended, privateers were supposed to return to their peacetime trade. However, raid and plunder were more profitable, so many privateers carried on in peacetime just as they had in wartime — and became pirates.
Corsairs
Sixteenth-century Mediterranean pirates had a unique excuse for plunder: religion. Three centuries earlier, Christians and Muslims had fought over the Holy Lands — the countries we now call Israel and Syria. Hatred still lingered, and from opposite shores of the Mediterranean, supporters of each religion launched sleek, oared fighting ships called galleys to attack the other’s shipping.
From the Muslim cities of Tunis, Algiers, and Tripoli, galleys went to sea with Christian slaves chained to the oars. The pirates were called “corsairs” after the Latin word cursus, meaning plunder. When the corsairs captured Christian ships, they enslaved the crew and passengers. Those too weak to row were taken to work in slave prisons.
Christians launched counter-attacks from the island of Malta. Though their religion was different from that of the corsairs, their methods were the same: they used similar galleys, but with Muslim slaves at the oars.
BARBAROSSA BROTHERS (c.1474–1546)
Of all the Barbary corsairs, none were more famous than the Barbarossa brothers, Aruj (died 1518) and Khayr ad-Din (died 1546). These Greek Muslim pirates made Algiers a powerful corsair base in the early sixteenth century. Khayr ad-Din’s exploits earned him promotion from corsair chief to commander of the Turkish navy, and he led raids on many ports in Spain, France, and Italy. The name Barbarossa comes from the Latin words for red (rossa) and beard (barba).
New World Pirates
As the sixteenth century began, the world grew suddenly bigger. At least, it seemed so for Europeans, whose adventurers discovered a New World on the far side of the Atlantic. Spanish navigators led the exploration of the Caribbean. Moving on to the Spanish Main — mainland America — they plundered the wealth of two great native American peoples: the Incas of Peru and the Aztecs of Mexico. As Spanish treasure ships transported their gold and silver back to Spain by the ton, England’s queen sent her privateers to capture them.
FRANCIS DRAKE (c.1540–1596)
One of England’s best-known Elizabethan sailors, Francis Drake, turned pirate after the Spanish raided his merchant ship in the Caribbean. Determined to teach them a lesson, he became a privateer. A 1572 attack on the Spanish town of Nombre de Dios in Panama made his reputation, and a three-year raiding voyage around the world, ending in 1580, won him fame, wealth, and a knighthood from England’s queen, Elizabeth I. Sir Francis Drake died of a tropical disease off Panama during his last expedition in 1596.
Buccaneers
When Spain and England made peace in 1604, privateers could no longer legally raid Spanish ships. But before long a new, more brutal breed of pirate appeared: the buccaneers. Originally lawless hunters from Hispaniola (now Haiti and the Dominican Republic), they were named after the “boucan” barbecues on which they smoked their meat. Passing sailors who bought the supplies called the hunters “boucaniers” and later buccaneers.
Hispaniola’s Spanish rulers became alarmed by the buccaneers and sent an expedition to shoot all the animals they hunted. The buccaneers got their own back by raiding Spanish ships from their island base of Tortuga. Buccaneer quickly became another word for pirate.
Britain again went to war with Spain at the beginning of the eighteenth century, and privateers joined the buccaneers in raiding Spanish ships. When peace returned in 1714, they stayed on, and piracy exploded.
FRANÇOIS L’OLLONAIS (1630–1668)
French pirate François L’Ollonais was a hunter on Hispaniola when Spaniards attacked his camp, killing his friends. In avenging their deaths, he became the most savage of all the Caribbean buccaneers. In one particularly cruel incident he cut out the heart of one Spanish prisoner and fed it to another. L’Ollonais died as he had lived: captured by cannibals in Panama, he was cut to pieces, roasted, and eaten.
HENRY MORGAN (1635–1688)
H
enry Morgan became a hero when he led small armies of buccaneers in daring raids on the Central American Spanish cities of Portobello in 1668 and Panama City three years later. Morgan’s drunken followers tortured and murdered during the attacks. Nevertheless, the English king, Charles II, later knighted the Welsh pirate for fighting England’s enemy, and made him deputy governor of Jamaica!
Jake’s Adventure
The pirate menace was so great in the eighteenth century that this period is sometimes called the golden age of piracy. This was the world that Jake strayed into when he signed on with the Greyhound.
Though Jake never really lived, some of the people he met did. Henry Jennings was a real pirate captain, and his raid on the Spanish salvage crew’s camp actually took place. There was even a lawless pirate colony on New Providence — until it was broken up in 1718 by English former privateer Woodes Rogers. By using the English king’s pardon for those who agreed to “retire,” Woodes Rogers began a campaign that eventually ended piracy’s golden age. In eight years pirate attacks fell from fifty to just six per year.
WILLIAM KIDD (c.1645–1701)
When William Kidd sailed from England for the Indian Ocean in 1696, his aim was to capture pirates. His mission was a failure, and, perhaps to satisfy his restless crew, he turned to piracy himself, seizing the Indian ship Quedagh Merchant. Kidd was hunted down, tried, and hanged for piracy. His treasure, though, was never found, and according to legend it still lies buried on a Caribbean island.
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