History: Fit To Be Marooned

There's a lot of fiction surrounding pirates in our thoroughly modern age. Pirates - and their privateer brethren - certainly had articles of conduct that showed each member of a crew the rules to play by. Slip up on those rules and many pirate articles specified the punishment for your error. There was never a day, however, when anyone was forced to walk the plank. But marooning, that horrible, lonely, slow way to die, was specified in many articles and practiced right through to the 1830's.

In his book General History of Pirates, Charles Johnson laid out a set of pirate articles. He made comments on the various points therein and passage II was no exception. The article reads:

Every man to be called fairly in turn, by list, on board of prizes because (over and above their proper share) they were on these occasions allowed a shift of clothes: but if they defrauded the company to any value of a pound in plate, jewels, or money marooning was their punishment.

Johnson goes on to add at this point:

This was a barbarous custom of putting the offender on shore, on some desolate or uninhabited cape or island, with a gun, a few shot, a bottle of water and horn of powder to subsist with or starve.

And then the article concludes:

Should the robbery be only betwixt one another, they content themselves with slitting the ears and nose of him that is guilty, and set him on shore not in an uninhabited place, but somewhere where he is sure to encounter hardships.

Nice. More often than not the unlucky offender was stripped of all his goods, including clothing, before being put ashore. The added torture of a full body sunburn would encourage dehydration and the possibility of sun stroke as well. Howard Pyle's unfortunate subject pictured seems to have been spared that indignity.

There are stories of men surviving the misery of marooning. Some being discovered years later and, it turns out, having found companionship with a previously unknown native group. Most of these instances are just stories. Survival in most cases would have been next to impossible and some marooning victims were left on what amounted to only a sand bar that would be underwater when the tide came in.

The most famous of all those men marooned (and the subject of a future post) did survive, however. Alexander Selkirk, the inspiration for Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, was rescued after being marooned on Mas a Tierra, an unpopulated island 400 miles west of Valparaiso in Chile.

So mind your articles, Brethren. Nine times out of ten, truth really is stranger than fiction.

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Mate

Mate is a word that brings to mind one of two things: 1) sailors, 2) Australians. Guess which one we'll be talking about here.

The word mate meaning a friend or comrade has various etymologies, but three stand out for me as more likely than the rest. The first is the most simple and straight forward (so, probably, the most likely as well). Mat (pronounced with the hard a sound) was the Saxon word for fellow and could be used in place of brother. OK. But what if...

The French word for sailor is matelot and has been for hundreds of years. This is the "common sailor" that one would picture in petticoat breeches and bare feet with a dewrag on his head and a deep tan. It stands to reason that the word might be shortened to mate by the men who were matelot and/or by their English comrades/enemies who just didn't have an ear for Latin languages. But there is another word - specific to pirates - that may have had an influence on the English usage of the word today.

In the early days of the boucaniers, first on the island of Hispaniola and then on Tortuga, the men who learned to smoke meat and cover themselves in animal fat to keep off the mosquitoes were pretty lonely. Yep. The first buccaneers were an all dude society. The displaced and runaway indentured servants had only each other to count on. In the early 17th century, most of these guys were French so that was the language spoken. They tended to live in groups of six to eight and they set up rules among themselves for the sharing of food, water and - as the first raids on Spanish shipping began - other goods as well.

Some of the boucaniers formed pair bonds that may or may not have been homosexual depending on the men involved. These unions were known as matelage, which is sometimes erroneously interpreted as meaning "marriage". In fact, the meaning is closer to a "companion" or even "pal" who was a fellow sailor. The age at the end of the word refers more to the practice than the relationship. (A similar example would be the Louisiana Creole word placage, technically meaning "placement" but referring to a contracted, near marriage between a white man and a "free woman of color".) The matelage system continued when women came to Tortuga with two already bonded men sharing a "wife". Lucky girl.

So there , mates. You've a few etymologies to choose from. Pick the one you like and stick with it. Your humble hostess is on the good ship matelage herself. It just sounds right.

(By the way, the picture at the header is of the Beaufort, N.C. fire department circa 1960 reenacting a pirate invasion of the town in 1747. If you'd like to know more about Beaufort and her seafaring history, click here to check out the town's fabulous blog.)

Booty: Open Fer Lunch!

The Internet is a strange and wonderful place. Unfortunately, to my way of thinking, it's a lot like an abusive caretaker. Sure, you get your three squares and a warm place to sleep (most days anyway) but you never know when it's going to go off and expose you to some horror that will scar you for life. I'm just saying.

All the same, I find that kind people I have met (and some I haven't!) send me things from the Internet. Piratical things. And now it's time to share them with you, my Brethren. Every Friday or so, we'll have this little frolic under the title "Booty". So. Much. Double entendre.

Today is something to prep you for the midday meal. This one was sent to me by my very own first mate. He got it in one of those "look at this stuff!" kind of emails. Ah. The things we do to keep ourselves sane. Anyway, without further ado, I give you Crabby Dick's of Delaware:

Words fail me.

If anyone has tried Dick's seaman sauce, please chime in on the comments. I'm honestly curious.

Happy Friday, mates. It's Sailor Mouth Saturday tomorrow!

People: As Luck Would Have It

We don't know a whole lot about today's pirate/privateer, or at least not about his early years. Jean Fleury of Honfleur was born in France some time in the early 16th century and, probably at an early age, chose a life at sea. Though it appears that he was not born in the notorious corsair port of Dieppe on the northern coast of France, that is the harbor he used as his base. In 1521 Fleury was in the Atlantic commanding a flotilla of five corsairs from his flagship Salamander when he got lucky beyond his wildest dreams.

Spain had not only begun to wrap an iron fist around the New World but also had the Pope's blessing for same by the time Jean Fleury hit it big. In 1519 Hernan Cortes completed his brutal conquest of the Aztec empire in Mexico. Through torture and enslavement (encouraged and helped along by the Catholic Church; you know, for the good of the heathens' souls) the Spanish set up a system by which natives all over Central and South America would reveal the sources of their riches and then be put to work mining and processing them for His Holy Catholic Majesty in Spain. A system of transporting this wealth was organized within three years after Cortes' success in Mexico. The Spanish treasure fleet was established in 1521.

Needless to say the other major players in Europe weren't real happy about Spain getting all the goods. In particular Francois I of France was put out. Francois, you see, was a Valois and therefor a blood enemy of the prognathous Hapsburg clan. Carlos I of Spain was a Hapsburg and on his way to becoming Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. Now France was out of the New World riches racket and surrounded by the lands of a Hapsburg. Canny if nothing else, Francois turned to the corsairs of Northern France and started handing out letters of marque.

The big dog of the French pirates at that time. was Jean Ango, Viscount of Dieppe. He agreed to finance privateers to run raids against the Spanish at sea as long as he and his men were allowed a good chunk of any booty. Francois agreed, the deal was done and Jean Fleury set out with his ships to hunt for Spanish gold.

Salamander and her consorts sighted three Spanish treasure ships off the Azores, probably in the spring or fall of 1521. The ships, under the command of one Captain Avila, were packed to the gunnels and virtually incapable of any swift maneuver. To boot, they did not ship many cannons in favor of room for goods and none of the men had much in the way of battle experience. There wasn't a lot Avila could do in the face of Fleury's swift, two masted caravels but he made every attempt to escape.

Fleury's ships managed to cut out two of the Spanish galleons while a third got away. Doubtless this was gut wrenching for Fleury at the time but upon his return to Dieppe no one else seemed to care. The Spanish ships were loaded with enormous wealth including gold, silver, precious and semi-precious jewels, nearly 700 pounds of pearls and gold dust amounting to 500 pounds. There were also Aztec robes and headdresses made of feathers and jaguar pelts as well as wild animals, including three live jaguars.

Jean Ango was certainly beside himself. He ordered a week of carnival-like celebrations and noblemen came from Paris to see the spectacle of dancers wearing the beautiful costumes brought from the New World. Fleury himself became a national hero and a stained glass window in the church at Villequier, Normandy, commemorates his taking of the Spanish galleons.

Though Jean Fleury never did match his astonishing luck in stumbling upon and taking the Spanish galleons bound for Seville, he did continue to harass Spain in the Atlantic for six more years. In 1527 he was captured by a flotilla of Armada ships off Cadiz. He was taken to the port town's dungeon, quickly tried and hanged for piracy. Despite this gesture of disregard for France and her letters of marque, King/Emperor Carlos/Charles never did get those pesky French - very soon to be joined by the pesky English - under control and more and more booty floated away from Spain and toward other European powers.

As an interesting side note, Jean Laffite sometimes claimed Jean Fleury as an ancestor. Its a nice story but most probably bull. Jean Laffite - for all his charm - lied a lot. Regardless Jean Fleury of Honfleur was a capable sailor and commander. Add luck to that, though, and only a sturdy noose can stop you.

Home Ports: Better In The Bahamas

Evidently, one of the things that pirates took note of when hunting for a good base was scenery. At least if today's home port is any indication. The picture above is Salt Cay in Nassau, The Bahamas and back in the early 18th century this gorgeous spot was a tent city with a pirate driven economy that quite literally never slept.

The island of New Providence, where Port Nassau is located, is almost smack dab in the middle of the island chain known collectively as the Bahamas. It has a number of major bays around its small perimeter but the one at Nassau was perfect for pirates and privateers. The water depth was perfect for sloops, schooners and brigs but too shallow for naval frigates and men-of-war. The harbor could hold hundreds of ships and there was ample beach to preform repairs and careen ships. The sand was white and beyond it was jungle and hills full of wildlife and fresh water. The native population had left the island after repeated raids by the Spanish in the 16th and especially 17th century. The place was a pirate paradise rivaled only by the French buccaneering island of Tortuga.

New Providence was a British holding but it had never been properly settled. The island's theoretical Governor was located on Eleuthera to the east and he paid no attention what ever to New Providence. When the pirate Henry Jennings sailed into port in 1714, he knew he was home.

Nassau quickly became a loose "city" formed by tents and huts made with local driftwood, palms, discarded wood and sails from ships. It was only a matter of a year before a relatively stable if freewheeling economy was establish. Carpenters, shipwrights, armorers and blacksmiths out of work elsewhere in a post-war economy could make a living in Nassau building and repairing ships and guns. Smugglers posing as merchants put in to port to buy stolen goods for resale in wealthy cities like Charleston, Baltimore, Boston and New York. Tavern keepers set up their tables and put out their shingles. Brothels sprang up and the ladies got their share of the pirate booty.

By 1716 a veritable who's who of pirates could be found in port at any given time. Edward Teach, Charles Vane, Sam Bellamy, Benjamin Honigold, Jack Rackham and a host of others called New Providence a base. The men and women who lived "a short life but merry" worked hard and played hard on the white sands of Nassau.

Of course, hygiene was non-existent and trash heaps full of anything imaginable (and probably some things unimaginable) littered the beach and forest. There was no rhyme or reason to the tent city, you just put up your tent where there was room. Arguments resulting in injury or death were very probably a daily - and nightly - occurrence. It would take a strong constitution to live in Port Nassau but some 3,000 individuals did so at the height of her popularity.

The British government eventually got fed up with the predations of the Nassau pirates and they decided to establish a Governor on sight. The Crown sent Captain Woodes Rogers to New Providence as the new Governor of the Bahamas with orders to break up the nest of thieves and establish a British colony on the island. Rogers, who had been a privateer for England for several years, is a post in and of himself. As a teaser, his ship Duke was the one that rescued Alexander Selkirk from Juan Fernandez Island in 1709. Selkirk is the castaway on whom the fictional Robinson Crusoe was based.

Rogers arrived in New Providence in August of 1718 and was welcomed by many of the residents of Nassau. Pirates like Rackham and Teach had left the island and, though Charles Vane fired on the Governor's ships as he left the harbor, as many as 600 pirates took the pardon offered by Rogers. Henry Jennings and Benjamin Hornigold even agreed to turn pirate hunter and helped Rogers defend the Bahamas against Spanish attacks a few years later. Rogers stuck to his guns with regard to zero tolerance for pirates and piracy. He ordered a mass hanging of pardoned pirates who had returned to their old ways in December of 1718.

Governor Rogers did his best to make the Bahamas a center of trade and agriculture for England but, once the freebooting was eradicated, London lost interest. New Providence's boom town days were over. Governor Rogers died in Nassau in 1732. I hope his room had a nice view.

Today, Nassau town and its port thrive on the pirate heritage of New Providence. Hotels, restaurants, bars and beaches capitalize on the history of a short but successful run as a pirate home port. I bet its a fun place to visit but I like to imagine that bright day in 1714 when the port and her beaches must have seemed utterly new.

Tools of the Trade: Staying On Track

I'll just say this and get it over with before we start: cannons are scary. They make very loud noises and shoot very heavy projectiles that can do a lot of damage. If you don't know what you're doing or you're not careful or both they can hurt their operator pretty badly, too. And those are just the modern versions.

In the days of iron men and wooden ships and lit fuses next to black powder, things were even worse. Even on large frigates or men-of-war that had separate gun decks, working the big guns was not only hazardous but tight. Sometimes there was no more than 20 inches of space to support the recoil and guns were positioned as close together as two feet. Each gun needed at least a four man crew. Hot, sweaty, deafening and dangerous. Ah, the good old days.

On a pirate or privateer things were even tighter. The guns were smaller of course. Most pirate ships carried nothing larger than a ten or twelve pound gun while a navy ship of the line might carry thirty-twos (remember, the weight of the ball is what is being spoken of here; a ten pound gun could weigh upwards of a thousand pounds). The ships were smaller too, however. Sloops, schooners and brigs displacing no more than two to three hundred tons would quickly succumb to what was called "hogging" if too many guns of too large a size were place on her. A ship hogs when she begins to bow upward out of the water at her center known as the waist, her stern and bow bending down like the two ends of a banana. Once this happens the ship is ruined and ships are pretty dear, mate.

Even when things seemed relatively "normal" with regard to the great guns, there was always the potential for something to quite literally snap. Generally speaking guns were lashed down in place with what was known as gun tackle. These ropes kept the cannon, which were all by necessity on wheels, from ranging the deck like chickens. When in use, one large rope - the breeching rope - secured the cannon to the side of the ship to keep it from over reaching its allotted space during the angry recoil, one of the most precarious points in the firing process. A cannon that slipped or broke its breeching rope was said to "jump the track" where upon it became a "loose cannon". A thousand pounds of metal now free to roll with the pitch and yawl of a ship at sea while highly combustible black powder was on deck with lit slow match. One of the most unsafe of countless unsafe situations at sea.

The risk of crush injury or outright explosion was always eminent and more than one sailor over his grog ration has paid the price. Pirates in particular, who didn't ration their liquor, were wounded by their own cannon. Most pirate articles included payouts specifically to men injured and unable to continue a voyage. Some even had provisions for widows.

Mind your breeching ropes, Brethren. They should be in top form at all times. Just in case you need to work those great guns you'll want to stay on track. And then some.

Pathetic Pirates: The Gentleman Pirate

When I think of pathetic pirates - and as we've seen there have been plenty - today's is the one who comes to mind first. He didn't necessarily start the trend but he sure did it up big. Stede Bonnet, the gentleman pirate. As you'll see, gentleman and pirate just don't mix no matter what those romance authors would have you believe.

Bonnet was an officer in the King's Army. By 1717 he was retired and settled down on his spacious Barbados plantation, a wealthy society man with all the outward signs of a perfect life. The story goes that all was not joyous in paradise, though. Evidently Stede was a henpecked husband who some say was driven crazy by the constant nagging of his wife. Others say he was just plane crazy. What ever the reason, Bonnet purchased a sloop of ten guns, hired 70 men and snuck out of his house one evening never to return. His ship sailed from Barbados in 1717 under a black flag.

Bonnet was completely incapable as a seaman and constantly seasick once his ship got out into the Caribbean. Despite this, he managed to take prizes and sell the goods in and around Long Island, Virginia and the Carolinas. At some point in early 1718 Bonnet's ship Revenge met up with Edward Teach's Queen Anne's Revenge and the Captain's agreed to work the Carolina coast together. Blackbeard, probably seeing that Bonnet was no sailor, put one of his own men in charge of Revenge and made Stede a virtual prisoner aboard Queen Anne's Revenge. Prizes were taken by the truckload but Stede never saw a cent out of them. Eventually Teach, either bored or fed up, put Bonnet back on his own ship and sailed away.

Bonnet's men were tired of him too and most deserted when Revenge put in to Charleston. Stede decided to take the pardon for pirates being offered by the King of England at the time but he wasn't done with the sea. He had it in for Edward Teach now. The Governor Johnson of Carolina suggested Bonnet make his way to St. Thomas Island where privateer commissions were being handed out against Spain. Bonnet agreed, rounded up more likely crewmen, and changed not only his ship's name to Royal James but his name to Captain Thomas. He was back at sea in short order. Instead of seeking a commission, though, Bonnet went in search of Blackbeard.

Royal James took six or seven prizes in the fall of 1718 but she never ran into Queen Anne's Revenge. In late October, Bonnet took his ship up the Cape Fear River and anchored there for repairs. The people of Charleston, on hearing that a pirate was on their shores, went into a panic. They had only recently been held virtual hostages by Teach and they weren't going through that again! On November 4th the Governor sent William Rhett to Cape Fear with two armed British sloops, Henry and Sea Nymph.

Characteristically for Bonnet, the engagement went worse than badly. The tide was heading out as Rhett entered the river and all three sloops foundered on sandbars. Henry and Royal James fired broadsides but Henry regained the water first. Royal James was overcome and her people taken to Charleston as prisoners.

A few days later Bonnet and his first lieutenant managed to escape but they were quickly recaptured. When the judge asked Bonnet at his trial why he had turned pirate, Bonnet refused to answer. The judge sentenced he and 30 of his men to hang. He died clutching a nosegay as a sign of repentance. Stede Bonnet, gentleman pirate - pathetic to the very end.