by Travers, Tim
An officer from the Swallow addressed William Main, asking about the rest of Roberts’ crew. Main said there were 120 of them “‘…as clever fellows as ever trod shoe leather: would I were with them!” “No doubt on it,” says the officer. “By G— it is naked truth,” answered he [Main], looking down and seeing himself, by this time quite stripped [of his clothes].’ The pirates were secured, and the Ranger sailed into Princess Island with a skeleton crew from the Swallow. Then Ogle and the Swallow entered Cape Lopez Bay again while Roberts was at breakfast on the Royal Fortune, having just taken another trading ship, the Neptune. Roberts’ ship the Little Ranger was also anchored in the bay. Roberts decided to try and sail past the Swallow in the Royal Fortune, but anticipated a fight. A deserter from the Swallow told Roberts that the Swallow sailed best into the wind, so Roberts decided the Royal Fortune would try to sail with the wind astern and escape in that fashion. Roberts dressed himself in a rich damask waistcoat and breeches, a gold chain and diamond cross around his neck, a sword in his hand, and two pistols hanging on a silk sling slung over his shoulder. Whether because the wind died, or because gunfire from the Swallow shot away the Royal Fortune’s mizzen top mast, or because the steersman in the Royal Fortune panicked, the Royal Fortune lost way, and in two hours the Swallow’s cannon battered the Royal Fortune into surrender. As for Roberts himself, an early charge of grape shot took him in the throat, and he settled onto the tackles of a gun, bleeding profusely, and died almost immediately.32
The Royal Navy surgeon on the Swallow, John Atkins, explained that the reason the pirates were so easily taken was that they lacked discipline. Certainly, as soon as Roberts was known to be dead, the pirates on the Royal Fortune seemed to lose heart, even though she had forty guns and the crew numbered 175 men, including forty-five Africans. It is also possible that many were drunk or hung over from the night before. Another factor was that the pirates of the Royal Fortune were unable to get close enough to board the Swallow, where greater pirate numbers might have told. Instead the battle turned into an off ship gunnery duel, in which the Swallow with more guns and better gunnery discipline would always have an advantage. And this was the case. Despite their victory, though, the Royal Navy had its own serious problems, due to very high losses of men to disease. In fact, the Weymouth, companion to the Swallow, started out with 240 men, but counting replacements, a total of 280 died. Both the Weymouth and the Swallow had to enlist large numbers of Africans to supplement their crews, as well as force sailors from trading ships. It turned out that the latter were useless because of their previous bad treatment and poor diet, while the African slaves often died. A letter from the Weymouth’s captain, Mungo Herdman, complained to the Admiralty that he had to buy fifty slaves to replace his dead crew, and had to feed them at his own expense. It seems that fourteen of the Weymouth’s fifty slaves died, and Herdman had to dispose of others cheaply, again at his own expense. Herdman requested compensation from the Admiralty.33
Another problem for the Swallow was that once the pirates were captured, they had to be transported to Cape Coast Castle, a Royal African Company port, in order to be tried. But their captors could only guard them with skeleton crews, and the pirates hatched two plans to overpower their captors and escape. These plans did not work because some of the pirates informed the Royal Navy officers of the potential take over, hoping for better treatment and to be spared the noose. Another problem for the Royal Navy, always avid for prize money, was the fact that Roberts’ Little Ranger, which was supposed to be full of gold dust, lay deserted and empty in Cape Lopez Bay. The pirates had fled ashore, and it appears that the ship recently captured by Roberts, the Neptune, had the good sense to loot the Little Ranger, because the captain of the Neptune later sold fifty ounces of gold dust in Barbados. As it was, Ogle only found 10 ounces of gold in the Little Ranger, though he admitted to finding 3,000 ounces altogether from the other two of Roberts’ ships. A final blow to the Royal Navy was the loss of both the Royal Fortune and the Ranger, taken as prizes, which were driven ashore onto the rocks under Saltpan Hill, Jamaica, by a hurricane, and broken all to pieces in less than an hour. Although this considerably reduced the Royal Navy prize money, all aboard were saved except for one sailor and two African slaves.34
Continuing the story of prize money, an ironic conclusion to the capture of Roberts’ ships and crew was the unedifying argument over the distribution of such money in the years following 1722. Prize money from gold dust, other treasure, and the Little Ranger, brought into Rhode Island, might have been about £8,000 to £10,000. The Privy Seal took over, and eventually awarded £5,364.90 to Ogle, of which £1,940 was supposed to be head money for pirates captured and killed, for the benefit of the officers and crew of the Swallow. Ogle did not reveal that he had received this sum of money, despite petitions from sailors, wives and widows, until a publication in London forced his hand. Ogle, now knighted and on his way up the naval ladder, refused to pay any prize money to his crew, citing the large expenses of his new rank. Reluctantly he eventually agreed to pay the head money of £1,940 to his crew, which transaction finally took place four years later in 1726.35
While Ogle was cleverly managing his finances, the pirates of Roberts’ crew who had been captured and transported to Cape Coast Castle, now faced trial. Johnson has very full details of this trial, the numbers involved, the details of a number of cases, and the last words of the accused before they were ‘turned off’ to swing in the air. This was a very large-scale trial, resulting in the following results:
Acquitted: 74
Executed: 52
Respited: 2
Into servitude: 20
To Marshalsea prison in London: 17
Killed in the Ranger: 10
Killed in the Royal Fortune: 3
Died on the way to Cape Coast Castle: 15
Died afterwards in the Cape Coast Castle: 4
Africans to be sold: 70
Total: 267
Ogle has almost the same figures except that he has seventy-seven acquitted, and seventy-five Africans to be sold. The relatively small number killed onboard the two ships points to the ease of the Royal Navy victory, while the fairly large number acquitted relates mainly to those who were judged to have been forced to join Roberts’ crew. Of the two respited until a final decision was made, one died abroad and one was pardoned. Of the twenty sent into servitude to the Royal African Company, none were living by 1724, killed by disease and hard work. Of the Africans, nothing is known, except that they were sold and continued their slavery. Johnson was very conscious of the popularity of pirate confessions just before hanging, and reported several, including the only pirate hung onboard the Weymouth, who apparently asked the ships’ crew to join him in the singing of two or three verses of Psalm 140 before he was triced up at the fore yard arm. On the other hand, many pirates called for drink before execution, and desired caps so they would look better at hanging. According to Johnson, the most pathetic speech was made by one Bunce, about twenty-six years-old, who claimed he had been lured into piracy by the possibilities of power, liberty, and wealth. He declared that his youth and inexperience, and his briskness in carrying out piratical acts, were only due to his lively nature. He begged forgiveness, exhorted the spectators to avoid sin, and ended with the rather too obvious simile, ‘That he stood there as a Beacon upon a Rock (the gallows standing on one) to warn erring Mariners of Danger.’36
In general, the trial was quite lenient by the standards of the time, in that only around 30 per cent of those actually tried were executed. One wonders what Roberts would have made of the trial and of the behaviour of his crew during their fight against the Swallow. Nevertheless, the Royal Navy achieved what it set out to do. Consequently, Captains Archibald Hamilton and Barrow Harris wrote in letters to the Admiralty in 1723 that there were no pirates off West Africa by 1723 after Ogle left, and very few in the West Indies, although Spanish ships pretending to be coast guards were taking merchantmen in the latter loca
tion. In fact, there were very few Western pirates left by the late 1720s, despite the odd occasion, as in 1748, when a privateer from Cork turned pirate, taking Venetian and Swedish ships. Basically, the pirates had either been pardoned or done to death.37
Lord Muskerry Versus Captain Robert Harris (1722)
Yet sometimes the Royal Navy was actually too keen to catch pirates in this period, as one unusual case shows.
In the 1720s when the war against the pirates was in full swing, captains in the Royal Navy looked to capture pirates, make a name for themselves, and hopefully profit from their capture. The profit came from sharing out whatever the pirate ship might contain when captured, and also the head money that the Admiralty paid: £100 for a commander of a pirate ship, and £20 for every private man. This led to a certain zeal, sometimes misplaced. One example of a mistaken identity occurs with the attempt of the Irish peer and naval commander, Lord Muskerry, to prove that the innocent merchant Captain, Robert Harris, was really a pirate.
The scene opens with an affidavit and deposition by Robert Harris in Boston on 13 August 1722. Harris claimed that on 4 July 1722, he was master of the sloop Sarah, lying in Trinity harbour in Newfoundland, close to the port of Trepassy. Trepassy was the centre of the cod fishery at the time, and a favourite haunt of pirates, who came to replenish their food supplies, and recruit or compel the fishery workers to join their crews. Harris saw a large ship enter Trinity harbour, which only flew a jack and no other colours, and he feared this was a pirate ship that had been reported taking ships off the Newfoundland banks. Harris therefore caused small arms to be prepared on deck, and he then hailed a boat that had put off from the other ship, asking who they were. The reply from the boat was shocking to Harris, ‘Damn ye’ or ‘Pray God Damn ye’. The two men from the boat came onboard, one of them a naval Lieutenant, who cursed him, telling Harris they came from an English man of war. Harris then showed them his lawful Register and Clearance and invited them to a glass of wine. After this the Lieutenant left and Harris, obviously fearful, hove up the anchor of his sloop, and attempted to leave harbour.
At this point, the man of war fired several shots at the Sarah. So Harris let down his sails, the man of war’s pinnace came to the Sarah, and its sailors forced Harris into the pinnace and onto the man of war. Harris was then thrust into the man of war’s main cabin, and the Lieutenant locked the door. Sitting in the main cabin was the naval captain of the man of war, who said nothing but immediately gave Harris several blows with his ‘woolded’ cane – meaning a cane bound around with a cord. Harris caught hold of the cane and asked what he had done to deserve such punishment. The naval captain, who turned out to be Lord Muskerry, damned Harris and said that Harris had threatened to fire on his Lieutenant. At that, Muskerry laid on Harris again with blows to his face and head. When Muskerry ran out of breath, Harris told him that he, Harris, recalled that he had been with Muskerry when they were both in Lisbon, when Muskerry commanded a ship called the Dover. At this, Muskerry got angry again while Harris offered to pay money if he had offended. Once more Muskerry started battering Harris with his woolded cane, and so the unfortunate Harris attempted to escape through the cabin door.
Muskerry then fell to battering Harris again, giving him several dangerous blows, which almost deprived Harris of his senses. Then Muskerry ordered Harris into irons, calling him a Dog, but Harris could only crawl or creep onto the deck of the man of war. This again annoyed Muskerry, who gave him several more blows, at which point Muskerry changed his mind about the irons, and ordered Harris into the pinnace to return to his sloop. The sailors on the pinnace also removed the mainsail of the Sarah, preventing Harris’ ship from sailing, so Harris later went ashore and desired to speak to Muskerry on land. Instead, one of Muskerry’s officers told Harris he must pay £3 for the naval shots fired before he could get his mainsail back. He also told Harris that Muskerry was rather arbitrary, but that he, Harris, was lucky not to have been whipped from stage to stage through the harbour. Finally, Harris was told to go back onboard the man of war, and pay the £3, which he did, and got his mainsail back, while suffering further insults from Muskerry. Harris asked if he could leave harbour, but Muskerry refused permission.
Harris therefore spent the next night ashore in a miserable condition, and later pathetically described his wounds:
…enduring abundance of pain in my head right side Shoulder and back having many Stripes severall of them Six Inches Long and three wide bruised to a Jelly, with many blows on my left hand and arm & Elbow my arm lying benummed and dead all the night and I received many blows on my fingers hands Left Arm and Elbow and in such a miserable and painfull Condition my Grief was the greater because there was no Surgeon in the Harbour nor any relief to be had but only from my Doctor’s Box I had onboard…
Harris claimed to have been hit fifty times. Muskerry finally gave Harris permission to leave port, and it seems Harris learned at this point that his tormentor was Lord ‘Muscarry’ of the ship Solebay. After stopping to get medical treatment at the port of St Johns, Harris arrived at Boston on 31 July, and registered his affidavit and deposition against Muskerry shortly after. This material was then sent to the Admiralty.38
The Lords of the Admiralty somewhat naturally desired Muskerry to reply to Harris’ charges. Muskerry replied on 7 December 1722, saying that he was pursuing a pirate ship, which he learned had gone into Trinity harbour. So Muskerry headed to Trinity harbour, and flew only his jack, hoping to surprise the pirate in the harbour. Muskerry claimed that as soon as he entered the harbour, he also hoisted King’s colours. He found the sloop Sarah also carrying the same colours, and took her for the pirate he had been chasing. He sent his Lieutenant aboard the sloop, to bring the master (Harris) onboard the Solebay, which Harris refused. Then Harris made sail to leave the harbour, which increased Muskerry’s suspicions. Muskerry fired two shots, but Harris kept going, so Muskerry fired a broadside. Harris was brought aboard the Solebay, and Muskerry asked Harris what he meant by abusing his Lieutenant by taking him by the throat and threatening to shoot him. (Harris did not include this detail in his deposition, and it may have taken place.) According to Muskerry, Harris said he would do the same again, that he cared not for any officer, and that the owners of his ship would protect him.
Muskerry wrote that because of this answer, ‘I could not help reprimanding him [Harris] with half a dozen strokes with my Cane, but very far from what he is pleas’d to say in his Complaint to their Lordships, as to my detaining him it is most true being as I thought for the good of the Service believing he would give an account to the Pirates…’ Muskerry also claimed that Harris was not in a hurry to leave Trinity harbour, and he ended his letter by writing that what he did was for the good and honour of the Service. Perhaps fearing that his account was not quite believable, Muskerry added a postscript suggesting that his officers would support his account.39
Predictably, Muskerry easily survived this complaint. In fact, Muskerry actually became governor of Newfoundland from 1733 to 1735, and finished his career in the Royal Navy in 1741 as captain of a first rate, the Adventure. Something of Muskerry’s impetuous nature comes through in his next career, however, when he supported the Stuarts. This meant that he had to leave England and live in France, where he was given a very generous yearly income of £1,000 by Louis XV. Muskerry resided happily enough in Boulogne until his death in 1769. For his part, Harris seems to have been reasonably justified in his accusations against Muskerry, but simply continued his career as a merchant captain.
Nevertheless, the real significance of the Harris-Muskerry episode is that it is an example of the zeal with which the Royal Navy pursued pirates at this stage of the war of extermination against the pirates. And in this situation mistakes would be made because it was not always easy to tell who was a pirate and who was not.
Yet, if Atlantic pirates had by and large disappeared by the late 1720s, the Mediterranean was another story.
8
The Barbary Corsairs of North Africa
The name ‘Barbary corsair’ derives from the Arabic word ‘barbar’, referring to the Berbers of North Africa, and the word ‘corso’ referring to the practice of the galleys from North Africa going out ‘al corso’, hunting for Christian ships and captives. Technically, the galleys that rowed forth from the three regencies of Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli were privateers because they followed the instructions of the rulers of these North African towns, who were under the nominal control of the Ottoman Empire. In addition, there was always an element of jihad for these Muslim corsairs, who wished to expand the boundaries of Islam. Nevertheless, for Europeans, and especially for the inhabitants of Spain, Italy, Greece, and the Mediterranean islands, the Barbary corsairs appeared as pirates, raiding coasts and ships in search of captives to sell as slaves, or benefiting from the ransom payments of their captives. On the Atlantic coast, the Sallee Rovers, based in Salé, were more clearly pirates, many of them expelled from Spain in 1609, and by the late 1620s operating independently of the sultan of Morocco. On the other hand, the Sallee Rovers to some extent also saw their activities as a continuation of their holy war against the infidel. The Sallee Rovers aimed at wider horizons than the Barbary corsairs, raiding as far away as Iceland, Wales, Ireland, and Newfoundland. The more spectacular of these raids were carried out by a Dutch renegade, Jan Janssen, renamed Murat Rais, who sailed to Reykjavik in 1627 and captured some 400 Icelanders. Four years later he surprised the inhabitants of Baltimore in southern Ireland, capturing some 120 slaves. Renegades were Christians who had converted to Islam, and were often used by the Barbary corsairs as ship captains and maritime experts.
