Pirates in America
In the early days, the colonies ignored the pirates' business. The pirates also showed little interest in molesting the colonists. They were more interested in raiding Spanish ships. When King Charles heard of the harboring of pirates in 1683, he ordered that such persons be brought to justice. The King knighted the pirate Morgan, chief of buccaneers, and made him the Governor of Jamaica.
In Charleston, while plundering was confined to Spanish ships, the colonies allowed the “gentlemen rovers” to swagger about the streets, spend their Mexican doubloons, and sell the silks and wines taken from the ships outward bound for a trifle. The pirates frequently carried out smuggling or illicit trading.
The collector of King’s Customs, Edward Randolph, furious at the injury to the revenue, accused men in high places of complicity in these practices. Even the Governors did not escape him. He said of John Archdale, British Colonial Governor, “he permits Pirates to land and bring their money quietly ashore, for which favor they well paid him.”
However, customs on the settlers were heavy, while stolen goods were cheap. Nevertheless, the pirates asked for more money as the colonies increased in wealth. To the pirates, booty was booty whether it came from New York or Charles Town instead of St. Augustine or Havana, and a vessel flying the English flag was no safer than if she showed the red and gold of Spain.
Soon, the pirates captured many vessels along the coast, and it was impossible to undertake even the shortest voyage without being in danger from these desperadoes. The Cape Fear River to the north and the island of New Providence to the south were their strongholds, from which they preyed upon the commerce and sometimes threatened the towns themselves.
Things had come to a dreadful end when, in 1718, Robert Johnson, son of Sir Nathaniel Johnson, was Governor. A long boat pulled audaciously up to the Charles Town wharf and was sent with a message by a notorious pirate, one Thatch or Blackbeard.
The message was peculiar. Blackbeard informed Governor Johnson that his crew wanted medicines and that unless the list of drugs forwarded was immediately sent by his boat, the heads of Mr. Samuel Wragg, his little son, and some other citizens should be presented to the Council. Mr. Wragg, a prominent merchant, and the others had sailed for England recently, and their ship was one of nine vessels that had been taken near the bar within a few days. The Governor, a fearless and committed man, was furious at the insult, while the Council was divided in opinion. How could they submit to such an indignity? But Mr. Wragg's friends and family were unanimous. Should the life of a valued citizen be weighed in the balance with so useless a scruple? An eminent merchant put to death for a few drugs? The situation was horrible; the responsibility rested with Johnson, who met it manfully. He reminded the people that the Proprietors and the Board of Trade had been repeatedly but vainly urged to send a frigate to protect the commerce — it was his duty to protect the lives of the citizens. The medicines should be sent, and then — measures must be taken.
Meanwhile, poor Mr. Wragg and his fellow passengers were terrorized. The boat had got aground and so been delayed. Blackbeard was impatient and voiced a desire for their heads! When a ship arrived with the drugs, Blackbeard plundered the crew of all their possessions. It is said that Blackbeard secured $6000 in specie from Mr. Wragg alone and sent the others to shore, almost naked. He then sailed away, carrying the spoils of the many vessels he had captured, but sailed not so far that other outrages were to be feared.
In this emergency, which Johnson wrote instantly to London, Colonel Rhett came to his Excellency’s assistance. Rhett was no friend to Johnson or any Governor; his proud, imperious temper made it hard to accept a superior. He had been long in the colony and felt himself a master so that more than once; the Proprietors had to rebuke and, on one occasion, suspend him from office until he could bend his haughty spirit to apologize to the Governor, a man calmer and more reasonable, but brave and determined as himself. When, however, it was a question of battle, the soldierly vice-admiral came to the front and proposed that a couple of merchant vessels should be hastily armed and that he should go out and meet the rovers. Johnson was glad to accept the offer, and in a very few days, the sloops Henry and Sea Nymph were fitted with eight guns and about seventy men each and made ready. Rhett was put to sea, hardly knowing where to find his enemy. Blackbeard was cruising along the coast from Cape Race to Florida, plundering as he went.
On arriving, Johnson saw, across the bend of the Cape Fear River, the pirate vessel well up the stream and sheltered from attack. But the Pirate had seen them, and early next morning, his great vessel, the Royal James, came flying down the river with sails set, the Jolly Rover at the masthead, and guns cleared for action. She swept down, evidently trying to pass the sloops and gain the open sea. Rhett, to interrupt her, closed his vessels in and drove her from the channel so that she stuck hard and fast aground on a sand shoal. In another moment, the sloops were aground also — the Henry within pistol shot of the James, the Sea Nymph considerably lower downstream. The tide was on the ebb; there was no hope of release for hours; both had listed the same way and lay almost in line so that the hull of the Pirate was turned toward the Carolinian while the latter's deck was exposed to him. In this absurd position, more like two small forts exchanging shots than ships engaging, Rhett, undaunted, opened fire. The enemy instantly returned a broadside, which swept the deck of the Henry with deadly effect on account of the position. It was death to man the guns, but the Charles Town men stood to their posts and kept up a musketry fire upon the pirate crew. Seeing their losses and his advantage, the Jolly Rover expected an easy victory. “Made a whiff with their bloody flag and waved to us with their hats to come aboard and surrender.” This being answered with cheers and ridicule, the fight went on for five hours; then the tide turned, and the chance of victory with it. The Henry floated first. Rhett prepared to grapple and board as soon as she righted, but terror now possessed the pirates. They saw that the Sea Nymph had floated also and was coming to the help of her consort and mutinied against their captain, who would have fought to the last. He threatened to shoot them with his own hands, but they overpowered him, threw down their arms, and gave up the ship.
To his amazement, Rhett found that he had captured not Thatch but Stede Bonnet, one of the most remarkable of the many unusual characters of that time. He was a gentleman by birth and education, of excellent manners and fair estate, a major in the army, and afterward, a citizen of Bridgetown. There seemed no reason why he should have suddenly taken to piracy, but having done so, he became one of the fiercest of his dreadful trade. Once, he repented, submitted, and took the King’s pardon then offered, but immediately returned to his villainy.
A day or two were spent repairing the damaged loops, and then Colonel Rhett returned in triumph with the Royal James as a prize and Bonnet and thirty of his crew in irons “To the great joy of the whole Province.” Eighteen Carolinians were killed, and many more wounded.
Safekeeping for so many prisoners was difficult, for there was no jail. The men were locked up in the watch house while Bonnet and two others were given in charge to the marshal, who was to keep them under guard in his own home.
The trial of these men was remarkable. Chief Justice Trott, commissioned by the King and the Lords, was to hold a Court of Admiralty with ten assistant judges and a grand jury.
The jury was more likely to be decided by the list of thirty-eight vessels Bonnet and Thatch took in the last six months, displayed by the attorney-general, Richard Allein. The question was, were all of these men aiding in and consenting to the piracies?
The pirates were not allowed counsel's assistance. Imagine the poor wretches, badgered by two clever lawyers, frowned upon by eleven clever judges, confronted by a jury, every man of whom must have wished them hung, and trying to patch up some miserable defense for themselves. Such was the law in criminal trials then and for many years later.
Four of the prisoners were acquitted; the rest condemned to be hung. Stede Bonnet was not tried at this time. The too-careless guard of the marshal had enabled him to make friends in the town, and he had escaped wearing a woman’s dress with one of his companions in a boat with an Indian. Hoping to reach the vessels of another pirate named Moody, who had appeared off the bar a day or two before with a large ship of fifty guns, two hundred men, and two others that he captured on their way from New England to Charles Town. These insolent rovers sailed close inshore or lay in the offing waiting for outgoing ships so that their sails could be seen from the piers.
When no help for Charles Towne had come from England, Robert Johnson called the Council and Assembly again, informing them that they must rely on themselves alone.
They immediately passed an act to impress and arm the best vessels in port and called for volunteers. Naturally, they expected Colonel Rhett to take command, but he, in consequence, it is said of some affront at Johnson, refused. It must have gone hard with him to do so, for he dearly loved a fight. Thereupon, Governor Johnson announced that he would be the admiral and assume the position of commander, and the people were delighted.
Four vessels were mounted with guns, the Royal James being one, and three hundred men volunteered. They were almost ready to sail when Bonnet and his sailing master were found to have escaped. The word was brought to the town that they had gone down to the bar, but seeing that Moody was cruising elsewhere that day, they had returned and were on Sullivan’s Island.
Colonel Rhett offered to head a party for the recovery of his captive. The search was long and arduous, for the sandhills were covered with a dense growth of stunted live oak and myrtle and lay close and confusedly together. Nothing was easier than to lose one’s way. At last, the fugitives were seen. Rhett’s men fired, and the sailor fell dead. Bonnet was captured and carried back to prison.
Whether the pirates intended to attack the town is unknown, but they shortly reappeared, came inside the bar, and rode quietly at anchor. Johnson sailed to the fort named after his father at night and waited. Early next morning, the masters of the other vessels had their instructions, and he and his consorts crossed the bar quietly, having their guns under cover and no sign of war about them. The pirate, supposing them to be merchantmen, let them pass out and then, closing in behind them to intercept their expected retreat, ran up the black flag and called for surrender. Having got them between himself and the town by this stratagem, the governor hoisted the royal ensign, threw open his ports, and poured a broadside into the nearest ship.
The astonished rover endeavored to make the open sea and, by skillful handling, succeeded in doing so. Johnson followed in hot pursuit, signaling the Sea Nymph and the Royal James to look after the sloop. Then ensued a desperate fight, the vessels yard-arm to yard-arm. The pirates, at last, were driven from their guns. The Carolinians boarded; all the men on deck were killed fighting gallantly; those who had taken refuge in the hold surrendered; the sloop and the survivors of the crew were carried up to the town, where the people had been listening to the guns.
Meanwhile, the Governor was pursuing the pirate ship. A stern chase is proverbially a long chase, and the rover threw over boats and cannons to lighten his vessel, but the Charles Township was the faster sailer and overhauled her at last. A surprise awaited the captors. When the hatches were lifted, the hold was full of women!
“ The vessel was the Eagle, carrying convicts and “ indentured servants “ from England to Virginia. Thirty-six were women. The Pirate had captured her some time before, changed her name, and taken her for his own. Again, the commander's identity had been mistaken; not Moody but one still more dreaded, Richard Worley, was the captain. He had been killed on the sloop in the desperate fight off the bar. The victory was great, but where was Moody?
At last, after weeks of anxiety, it was discovered that having learned the preparations made to receive him in Charles Town, Moody had gone to Jamaica, there to avail himself of “the King’s pardon, “ which Admiral Sir Woodes Rogers was authorized to grant to all who should submit themselves voluntarily before the first of the following January. It remained to punish the prisoners.
They were tried by the court, but interest was aroused for Bonnet, whose gentlemanly appearance and manners, apparent remorse, and protestations of devotion and loyalty touched many hearts. His appeal, in which the most sacred texts of Scripture were dexterously woven into a petition for life, provoked, however, the ire of Trott, who told him in language as pedantically pious as his own:
“ You being a Gentleman and a Man of letters I believe it will be needless for me to explain to you the nature of Repentance and faith in Christ; considering the course of your life and actions, I have just reason to fear that the principles of Religion that had been instilled into you by your Education, have been at least corrupted if not entirely defaced by the skepticism and infidelity of this wicked Age.”
“ For had your delight been in the Law of the Lord and had you meditated thereon Day and night, you would have found that God’s word was a Lamp to your feet and a light to your path,” etc.
Pity was shown in an unexpected quarter when Colonel Rhett offered to take Bonnet to London himself to plead for pardon. Johnson knew his duty too well. Bonnet’s offenses were too flagrant, his hypocrisy too apparent. He had already taken the oath of repentance and returned immediately to his evil ways. His appeal was as the Devil quoting Scripture.
Bonnet was hanged, as were the other prisoners, forty in all. They were buried on White Point shoal, just above the low-water mark.
The burial site for Bonnet and Forty Pirates was later filled in and became the Battery Garden, a favorite pleasure ground of Charleston.
About the same time, Thatch (or Blackbeard) was taken by an expedition sent out by Governor Spotswood of Virginia but commanded by officers of the Royal Navy.
Source: Charleston, the Place, and the People by Mrs. St. Julien Ravenal, author of Life and Letters of Eliza Pinckney (1906); a manuscript book of the trial containing the chief justice's charge, written in Latin and Greek, was preserved in the Charleston Library.
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