[Illustration: A FIERCE DUEL

After exchanging shots, when Teach (Blackbeard) was wounded they drew
their swords and fiercely attacked each other. Maynard’s sword broke
in his hand and had it not been for one of his own men, who wounded
Blackbeard in the throat, the duel would have ended then.]

                              DARING DEEDS
                                   OF
                             FAMOUS PIRATES

                TRUE STORIES OF THE STIRRING ADVENTURES,
                    BRAVERY AND RESOURCE OF PIRATES,
                        FILIBUSTERS & BUCCANEERS

                                   BY
                  LT.-COM. E. KEBLE CHATTERTON, R.N.V.R
                              B.A. (OXON.),
           AUTHOR OF “THE ROMANCE OF THE SHIP” “FORE AND AFT”
                     “SAILING SHIPS AND THEIR STORY”
                              _&c. &c. &c._

                      WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOURS

                                 LONDON
                      SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LIMITED
                         196 SHAFTESBURY AVENUE
                               MDCCCCXXIX

CONTENTS

     CHAP.                                                   PAGE

        I. THE EARLIEST PIRATES                                17

       II. THE NORTH SEA PIRATES                               29

      III. PIRACY IN THE EARLY TUDOR TIMES                     37

       IV. THE CORSAIRS OF THE SOUTH                           48

        V. THE WASPS AT WORK                                   60

       VI. GALLEYS AND GALLANTRY                               70

      VII. PIRACY IN ELIZABETHAN TIMES                         79

     VIII. ELIZABETHAN SEAMEN AND TURKISH PIRATES              89

       IX. THE STUART NAVY GOES FORTH AGAINST THE “PYRATS”    101

        X. THE GOOD SHIP _EXCHANGE_ OF BRISTOL                114

       XI. A WONDERFUL ACHIEVEMENT                            126

      XII. THE GREAT SIR HENRY MORGAN                         136

     XIII. “BLACK BEARD” TEACH                                151

      XIV. THE STORY OF CAPTAIN KIDD                          162

       XV. THE EXPLOITS OF CAPTAIN AVERY                      172

      XVI. A “GENTLEMAN” OF FORTUNE                           183

     XVII. PAUL JONES, PIRATE AND PRIVATEER                   196

    XVIII. A NOTORIOUS AMERICAN PIRATE                        210

      XIX. THE LAST OF THE ALGERINE CORSAIRS                  217

       XX. PIRATES OF THE PERSIAN GULF                        224

      XXI. THE STORY OF AARON SMITH                           235

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

    A FIERCE DUEL                                   _Frontispiece_

                                                      FACING PAGE

    A DARING ATTACK                                            54

    GALLEY SLAVES                                              76

    GALLANTRY AGAINST ODDS                                     90

    BLIGHTED HOPES                                            104

    BOMBARDMENT OF ALGIERS                                    220

    ATTACKING A PIRATE STRONGHOLD                             232

NOTE

The contents of this book have been taken from Lieutenant Keble
Chatterton’s larger and more expensive volume entitled The Romance of
Piracy.

THE ROMANCE OF PIRACY

CHAPTER I

THE EARLIEST PIRATES

I suppose there are few words in use which at once suggest so much
romantic adventure as the words pirate and piracy. You instantly conjure
up in your mind a wealth of excitement, a clashing of lawless wills, and
there pass before your eyes a number of desperate dare-devils whose life
and occupation are inseparably connected with the sea.

The very meaning of the word, as you will find on referring to a Greek
dictionary, indicates one who _attempts_ to rob. In classical times there
was a species of Mediterranean craft which was a light, swift vessel
called a _myoparo_ because it was chiefly used by pirates. Since the
Greek verb _peirao_ means literally “to attempt,” so it had the secondary
meaning of “to try one’s fortune in thieving on sea.” Hence a _peirates_
(in Greek) and _pirata_ (in Latin) signified afloat the counterpart
of a brigand or highwayman on land. To many minds piracy conjures up
visions that go back no further than the seventeenth century: but though
it is true that during that period piracy attained unheard-of heights
in certain seas, yet the avocation of sea-robbery dates back very much
further.

Robbery by sea is certainly one of the oldest professions in the world.
I use the word profession advisedly, for the reason that in the earliest
days to be a pirate was not the equivalent of being a pariah and an
outcast. It was deemed just as honourable then to belong to a company of
pirates as it is to-day to belong to the navy of any recognised power.
It is an amusing fact that if in those days two strange ships met on
the high seas, and one of them, hailing the other, inquired if she were
a pirate or a trader, the inquiry was neither intended nor accepted as
an insult, but a correct answer would follow. It is a little difficult
in these modern days of regular steamship routes and powerful liners
which have little to fear beyond fog and exceptionally heavy weather,
to realise that every merchant ship sailed the seas with fear and
trepidation. When she set forth from her port of lading there was little
certainty that even if the ship herself reached the port of destination,
her cargo would ever be delivered to the rightful receivers. The ship
might be jogging along comfortably, heading well up towards her destined
port, when out from the distance came a much faster and lighter vessel
of smaller displacement and finer lines. In a few hours the latter would
have overhauled the former, the scanty crew of the merchantman would have
been thrown into the sea or pressed into the pirate’s service, or else
taken ashore to the pirate’s haunt and sold as slaves. The rich cargo of
merchandise could be sold or bartered when the land was reached, and the
merchant ship sunk or left to wallow in the Mediterranean swell.

It is obvious that because the freight ship had to be big-bellied to
carry the maximum cargo she was in most instances unable to run away from
the swift-moving pirate except in heavy weather. But in order to possess
some means of defence it was not unusual for these peaceful craft to be
provided with turrets of great height, from which heavy missiles could
be dropped on to the attacking pirate. In the bows, in the stern and
amidships these erections could easily be placed and as quickly removed.
And as a further aid oars would be got out in an endeavour to accelerate
the ship’s speed. For whilst the pirate relied primarily on oars, the
trader relied principally on sail power. Therefore in fine settled
weather, with a smooth sea, the low-lying piratical craft was at its
best. It could be manœuvred quickly, it could dart in and out of little
bays, it could shelter close in to the shore under the lee of a friendly
reef, and it was, because of its low freeboard, not easy to discern at
any great distance, unless the sea was literally smooth. But all through
history this type of vessel has been shown to be at a disadvantage as
soon as it comes on to blow and the unruffled surface gives way to high
crest and deep furrows.

It is as impossible to explain the growth of piracy as it is to define
precisely the call of the sea. A man is born with a bias in favour of
the sea or he is not: there is no possibility of putting that instinct
into him if already he has not been endowed with that attitude. So also
we know from our own personal experience, every one of us, that whilst
some of our own friends fret and waste in sedentary pursuits, yet from
the time they take to the sea or become explorers or colonisers they
find their true _métier_. The call of the sea is the call of adventure
in a specialised form. It has been said, with no little truth, that
many of the yachtsmen of to-day, if they had been living in other ages,
would have gone afloat as pirates or privateers. And so, if we want to
find an explanation for the amazing historical fact that for century
after century, in spite of all the efforts which many a nation made
to suppress piracy, it revived and prospered, we can only answer that,
quite apart from the lust of wealth, there was at the back of it all that
love of adventure, that desire for exciting incident, that hatred of
monotonous security which one finds in so many natures. A distinguished
British admiral remarked the other day that it was his experience
that the best naval officers were usually those who as boys were most
frequently getting into disfavour for their adventurous escapades. It is,
at any rate, still true that unless the man or boy has in him the real
spirit of adventure, the sea, whether as a sport or profession, can have
but little fascination for him.

International law and the growth of navies have practically put an end to
the profession of piracy, though privateering would doubtless reassert
itself in the next great naval war. But if you look through history you
will find that, certainly up to the nineteenth century, wherever there
was a seafaring nation there too had flourished a band of pirates. Piracy
went on for decade after decade in the Mediterranean till at length it
became unbearable, and Rome had to take the most serious steps and use
the most drastic measures to stamp out the nests of hornets. A little
later you find another generation of sea-robbers growing up and acting
precisely as their forefathers. Still further on in history you find the
Barbarian corsairs and their descendants being an irrepressible menace to
Mediterranean shipping. For four or five hundred years galleys waylaid
ships of the great European nations, attacked them, murdered their crews
and plundered the Levantine cargoes. Time after time were these corsairs
punished: time after time they rose again. In vain did the fleets of
southern Christian Europe or the ships of Elizabeth or the Jacobean navy
go forth to quell them. Algiers and Tunis were veritable plague-spots
in regard to piracy. Right on through time the northern coast of Africa
was the hotbed of pirates. Not till Admiral Lord Exmouth, in the year
1816, was sent to quell Algiers did Mediterranean piracy receive its
death-blow, though it lingered on for some little time later.

But piracy is not confined to any particular nation nor to any particular
sea, any more than the spirit of adventure is the exclusive endowment
of any particular race. There have been notorious pirates in the North
Sea as in the Mediterranean, there have been European pirates in the
Orient just as there have been Moorish pirates in the English Channel.
There have been British pirates on the waters of the West Indies as there
have been of Madagascar. There have flourished pirates in the North,
in the South, in the East and the West—in China, Japan, off the coast
of Malabar, Borneo, America and so on. The species of ships are often
different, the racial characteristics of the sea-rovers are equally
distinct, yet there is still the same determined clashing of wills, the
same desperate nature of the contests, the same exciting adventure; and
in the following pages it will be manifest that in spite of differences
of time and place the romance of piratical incident lives on for the
reason that human nature, at its basis, is very much alike the whole
world over.

But we must make a distinction between isolated and collected pirates.
There is a great dissimilarity, for instance, between a pickpocket and
a band of brigands. The latter work on a grander, bolder system. So it
has always been with the robbers of the sea. Some have been brigands,
some have been mere pickpockets. The “grand” pirates set to work on a
big scale. It was not enough to lie in wait for single merchant ships:
they swooped down on to seaside towns and villages, carried off by sheer
force the inhabitants and sold them into slavery. Whatever else of value
might attract their fancy they also took away. If any important force
were sent against them, the contest resolved itself not so much into a
punitive expedition as a piratical war. There was nothing petty in piracy
on these lines. It had its proper rules, its own grades of officers and
drill. _Lestarches_ was the Greek name for the captain of a band of
pirates, and it was their splendid organisation, their consummate skill
as fighters, that made them so difficult to quell.

I have said that piracy was regarded as an honourable profession. In
the earliest times this is true. The occupation of a pirate was deemed
no less worthy than a man who gained his living by fishing on the sea
or hunting on land. Just as in the Elizabethan age we find the sons of
some of the best English families going to sea on a roving expedition to
capture Spanish treasure ships, so in classical times the Mediterranean
pirates attracted to their ships adventurous spirits from all classes of
society, from the most patrician to the most plebeian: the summons of
the sea was as irresistible then as later on. But there were definite
arrangements made for the purpose of sharing in any piratical success, so
there was an incentive other than that of mere adventure which prompted
men to become pirates.

To-day, if the navies of the great nations were to be withdrawn, and
the policing of the seas to cease, it is pretty certain that those so
disposed would presently revive piracy. Nothing is so inimical to piracy
as settled peace and good government. But nothing is so encouraging
to piracy as prolonged unsettlement in international affairs and weak
administration. So it was that the incessant Mediterranean wars acted
as a keen incentive to piracy. War breeds war, and the spirit of unrest
on sea affected the pirate no less than the regular fighting man.
Sea-brigandage was rampant. These daring robbers went roving over the sea
wherever they wished, they waxed strong, they defied opposition.

And there were special territories which these pirates preferred to
others. The Liparian Isles—from about 580 B.C. to the time of the Roman
Conquest—were practically a republic of Greek corsairs. Similarly the
Ionians and the Lycians were notorious for piratical activities. After
the period of Thucydides, Corinth endeavoured to put down piracy, but in
vain. The irregularity went on until the conquest of Asia by the Romans,
in spite of all the precautions that were taken. The Ægean Sea, the
Pontus, the Adriatic were the happy cruising-grounds for the corsairs.
The pirate-admiral or, as he was designated, _archipeirates_, with his
organised fleet of assorted craft, was a deadly foe to encounter. Under
his command were the myoparones, already mentioned—light and swift they
darted across the sea; then there were, too, the hemiolia, which were so
called because they were rowed with one and a half banks of oars; next
came the two-banked biremes and the three-banked triremes, and with these
four classes of ships the admiral was ready for any craft that might
cross his wake. Merchantmen fled before him, warships by him were sent to
the bottom: wherever he coasted there spread panic through the sea-girt
towns. Even Athens itself felt the thrill of fear.

Notorious, too, were the Cretan pirates, and for a long time the Etruscan
corsairs were a great worry to the Greeks of Sicily. The inhabitants
of the Balearic Islands were especially famous for their piratical
depredations and for their skilful methods of fighting. Wherever a fleet
was sent to attack them they were able to inflict great slaughter by
hurling vast quantities of stones with their slings. It was only when
they came to close quarters with their aggressors the Romans, and the
latter’s sharp javelins began to take effect, that these islanders
met their match and were compelled to flee in haste to the shelter of
their coves. At the period which preceded the subversion of the Roman
commonwealth by Julius Cæsar, there was an exceedingly strong community
of pirates at the extreme eastern end of the Mediterranean. They
hailed from that territory which is just in the bend of Asia Minor and
designated Cilicia. Here lived—when ashore—one of the most dangerous body
of sea-rovers recorded in the pages of history. It is amazing to find
how powerful these Cilicians became, and as they prospered in piracy so
their numbers were increased by fellow-corsairs from their neighbours the
Syrians and Pamphylians, as well as by many who came down from the shores
of the Black Sea and from Cyprus. So powerful indeed became these rovers
that they controlled practically the whole of the Mediterranean from east
to west. They made it impossible for peaceful trading craft to venture
forth, and they even defeated several Roman officers who had been sent
with ships against them.

And so it went on until Rome realised that piracy had long since ceased
to be anything else but a most serious evil that needed firm and instant
suppression. It was the ruin of overseas trade and a terrible menace to
her own territory. But the matter was at last taken in hand. M. Antonius,
proprætor, was sent with a powerful fleet against these Cilician pirates;
they were crushed thoroughly, and the importance of this may be gathered
from the fact that on his return to Rome the conqueror was given an
ovation.

In the wars between Rome and Mithradates the Cilician pirates rendered
the latter excellent service. The long continuance of these wars and
the civil war between Marius and Sylla afforded the Cilicians a fine
opportunity to increase both in numbers and strength. To give some idea
of their power it is only necessary to state that not only did they take
and rob all the Roman ships which they encountered, but they also voyaged
among the islands and maritime provinces and plundered no fewer than 400
cities. They carried their depredations even to the mouth of the Tiber
and actually took away from thence several vessels laden with corn. Bear
in mind, too, that the Cilician piratical fleet was no scratch squadron
of a few antique ships. It consisted of a thousand vessels, which were of
great speed and very light. They were well manned by most able seamen,
and fought by trained soldiers, and commanded by expert officers.
They carried an abundance of arms, and neither men nor officers were
lacking in daring and prowess. When again it became expedient that these
Cilicians should be dealt with, it took no less a person than Pompey,
assisted by fifteen admirals, to tackle them; but finally, after a few
months, he was able to have the sea once more cleared of these rovers.

We can well sympathise with the merchant seamen of those days. The perils
of wind and wave were as nothing compared with the fear of falling into
the hands of powerful desperadoes, who not merely were all-powerful
afloat but in their strong fortresses on shore were most difficult to
deal with. With the Balearic Islanders in the west, the Cilicians in the
east, the Carthaginians in the south, the Illyrians along the Adriatic in
their low, handy liburnian galleys, there were pirates ready to encircle
the whole of the Mediterranean Sea. It is worth noting—for he who reads
naval history must often be struck with the fact that an existing navy
prevents war, but the absence of a navy brings war about—that as long
as Rome maintained a strong navy piracy died down: but so soon as she
neglected her sea-service piracy grew up again, commerce was interrupted
both east and west, numerous illustrious Romans were captured and
either ransomed or put to death, though some others were pressed into
the service of the pirates themselves. By means of prisoners to work at
the oars, by the addition of piratical neighbours and by mercenaries as
well, a huge piratical community with a strong military and political
organisation continued to prevent the development of overseas trade. This
piracy was only thwarted by keeping permanent Roman squadrons always
ready.

Of course there were pirates in these early times in waters other than
the Mediterranean. On the west coast of Gaul the Veneti had become very
powerful pirates, and you will recollect how severely they tried Cæsar,
giving him more trouble than all the rest of Gaul put together. They
owned such stalwart ships and were such able seamen that they proved most
able enemies. During the time of the Roman Empire piracy continued also
on the Black Sea and North Sea, though the Mediterranean was now for the
most part safe for merchant ships. But when the power of Rome declined,
so proportionately did the pirates reappear in their new strength. There
was no fearful navy to oppose them, and so once more they were able to
do pretty much as they liked. But we must not forget that long before
this they had ceased to be regarded as the equivalent of hunters and
fishermen. They were, by common agreement, what Cicero had designated
“enemies of the human race”: and so they continued till the nineteenth
century, with only temporary intervals of inactivity.

The thousand ships which the Cilician pirates employed were disposed
in separate squadrons. In different places they had their own naval
magazines located, and during that period already mentioned, when they
were driven off the sea, they resisted capture by retreating ashore to
their mountain fastnesses until such time as it was safe for them to
renew their ventures afloat. When Pompey defeated them he had under him a
fleet of 270 ships. As the inscription, carried in the celebration of his
triumph on his return to Rome, narrated, he cleared the maritime coasts
of pirates and restored the dominion of the sea to the Roman people. But
the pirates could always boast of having captured two Roman prætors, and
Julius Cæsar, when a youth on his way to Rhodes to pursue his studies,
also fell into their hands. However, he was more lucky than many another
Roman who, when captured, was hung up to the yard-arm, and the pirate
ship went proudly on her way.

In the declining years of the Roman Empire the Goths came down from
the north to the Mediterranean, where they got together fleets, became
very powerful and crossed to Africa, made piratical raids on the coast
and carried on long wars with the Romans. Presently the Saxons in the
northern waters of Europe made piratical descents on to the coasts of
France, Flanders and Britain. Meanwhile, in the south, the Saracens
descended upon Cyprus and Rhodes, which they took, seized many islands
in the Archipelago, and thence proceeded to Sicily to capture Syracuse,
and finally overran the whole of Barbary from Egypt in the east to the
Straits of Gibraltar in the west. From there they crossed to Spain and
reduced the greater part thereof, until under Ferdinand and Isabella
these Moors were driven out of Spain and compelled to settle once more
on the north coast of Africa. They established themselves notably at
Algiers, took to the sea, built themselves galleys and, after living
a civilised life in Spain for seven hundred years, became for the next
three centuries a scourge of the Mediterranean, a terror to ships and
men, inflicted all the cruelties which the fanaticism of the Moslem
race is capable of, and cast thousands of Christians into the bonds
of slavery. In many ways these terrifying Moorish pirates—of which to
this day some still go afloat in their craft off the north coast of
Africa—became the successors of those Cilician and other corsairs of
the classical age. In due course we shall return to note the kind of
piratical warfare which these expatriated Moors waged for most of three
hundred years. But before we come to that period let us examine into an
epoch that preceded this.

CHAPTER II

THE NORTH SEA PIRATES

I am anxious to emphasise the fact that piracy is nearly as old as the
ship herself. It is extremely improbable that the Egyptians were ever
pirates, for the reason that, excepting the expedition to Punt, they
confined their navigation practically to the Nile only. But as soon as
men built sea-going vessels, then the instinct to rob and pillage on sea
became as irresistible as on land. Might was right, and the weakest went
to the bottom.

Bearing this in mind, and remembering that there was always a good deal
of trade from the Continent up the Thames to London, especially in corn,
and that there was considerable traffic between Gaul and Britain across
the English Channel, it was but natural that the sea-rovers of the north
should exist no less than in the south. After Rome had occupied Britain
she established a navy which she called the “Classis Britannica,” and
it cannot have failed to be effective in policing the narrow seas and
protecting commerce from wandering corsairs. We know very well that
after Rome had evacuated Britain, and there was no navy to protect our
shores, came the Angles and Saxons and Jutes. We may permissibly regard
these Northmen, who pillaged and plundered till the time of William the
Conqueror and after, as pirates. In the sense that a pirate is one who
not merely commits robbery on the high seas but also makes descents on
the coast for the purpose of pillage, we may call the Viking seamen
pirates. But, strictly speaking, they were a great deal more than this,
and the object of this book is concerned rather with the incidents of the
sea than the incursions into the land. Although the Vikings did certainly
commit piracy both in their own waters and off the coasts of Britain,
yet their depredations in this respect, even if we could obtain adequate
information thereof, would sink into insignificance before their greater
conquests. For a race of men who first swoop down on to a strange coast,
vanquish the inhabitants and then settle down to live among them, are
rather different from a body of men who lie in wait to capture ships as
they proceed on their voyages.

The growth of piracy in English waters certainly owed much to the Cinque
Ports. In these havens dwelt a privileged class of seamen, who certainly
for centuries were a very much favoured community. It was their privilege
to do that which in the Mediterranean Cicero had regarded with so much
disfavour. These men of the Cinque Ports, according to Matthew of Paris,
were commissioned to plunder as they pleased all the merchant ships as
they passed up and down the English Channel. This was to be without any
regard to nationality, with the exception that English ships were not
to be molested. But French, Genoese, Venetian, Spanish or any others
could be attacked at the will of the Cinque Port seamen. Some persons
might call this sort of thing by the title of privateering, yet it was
really piracy and nothing else. You can readily imagine that with this
impetus thus given to a class of men who were not particularly prone to
lawfulness, the practice of piracy on the waters that wash Great Britain
grew at a great rate. Thus in the thirteenth century the French, the
Scotch, Irish and Welsh fitted out ships, hung about the narrow seas till
they were able to capture a well-laden merchantman as their fat reward.
So, before long, the English Channel was swarming with pirates, and
during the reign of Henry III. their numbers grew to an alarming extent.
The net result was that it was a grave risk for commodities to be brought
across the Channel, and so, therefore, the price of these goods rose.
The only means of remedy was to increase the English fleet, and this at
length was done in order to cope with the evil.

But matters were scarcely better in the North Sea, and English merchant
ships sailed in perpetual fear of capture. During the Middle Ages pirates
were always hovering about for any likely ship, and the wool trade
especially was interfered with. Matters became somewhat complicated when,
as happened in the reign of Edward II., peaceable English ships were
arrested by Norway for having been suspected—erroneously—of slaughtering
a Norwegian knight, whereas the latter had been actually put to death
by pirates. “We marvell not a little,” wrote Edward II. in complaint to
Haquinus, King of Norway, “and are much disquieted in our cogitations,
considering the greevances and oppressions, which (as wee have beene
informed by pitifull complaints) are at this present, more than in times
past, without any reasonable cause inflicted upon our subjects, which doe
usually resort unto your kingdome for traffiques sake.” For the fact was
that one nation was as bad as the other, but that whenever the one had
suffered then the other would lay violent hands on a ship that was merely
suspected of having acted piratically. Angered at the loss to their own
countrymen they were prompted by revenge on alien seamen found in their
own waters and even lying quietly in their own havens with their cargoes
of herrings.

As an attempt to make the North Sea more possible for the innocent
trading ships, the kings of England at different dates came to treaties
with those in authority on the other side. Richard II., for example,
made an agreement with the King of Prussia. In 1403 “full restitution
and recompense” were demanded by the Chancellor of England from the
Master-General of Prussia for the “sundry piracies and molestations
offered of late upon the sea.” Henry IV., writing to the Prussian
Master-General, admitted that “as well our as your marchants ... have,
by occasion of pirates, roving up and downe the sea” sustained grievous
loss. Finally it was agreed that all English merchant ships should be
allowed liberty to enter Prussian ports without molestation. But it
was further decided that if in the future any Prussian cargoes should
be captured on the North Sea by English pirates, and this merchandise
taken into an English port, then the harbour-master or “governour”
was, if he suspected piracy, to have these goods promptly taken out of
the English ship and placed in safe keeping. Between Henry IV. and the
Hanseatic towns a similar agreement was also made which bound the cities
of Lubec, Bremen, Hamburg, Sund and Gripeswold “that convenient, just
and reasonable satisfaction and recompense” might be made “unto the
injured and endamaged parties” “for all injuries, damages, grievances,
and drownings or manslaughters done and committed” by the pirates in the
narrow seas.

It would be futile to weary the reader with a complete list of all
these piratical attacks, but a few of them may here be instanced.
About Easter-time in the year 1394 a Hanseatic ship was hovering about
the North Sea when she fell in with an English merchantman from
Newcastle-on-Tyne. The latter’s name was the _Godezere_ and belonged
to a quartette of owners. She was, for those days, quite a big craft,
having a burden of 200 tons. Her value, together with that of her sails
and tackle, amounted to the sum of £400. She was loaded with a cargo of
woollen cloth and red wine, being bound for Prussia. The value of this
cargo, plus some gold and certain sums of money found aboard, aggregated
200 marks. The Hanseatic ship was able to overpower the _Godezere_, slew
two of her crew, captured ship and contents and imprisoned the rest of
the crew for the space of three whole years.

A Hull craft belonging to one Richard Horuse, and named the _Shipper
Berline of Prussia_, was in the same year also attacked and robbed by
Hanseatic pirates, goods to the value of 160 nobles being taken away.
The following year a ship named the _John Tutteburie_ was attacked by
Hanseatics when off the coast of Norway, and goods consisting of wax and
other commodities to the value of 476 nobles were captured. A year later
and pirates of the same federation captured a ship belonging to William
Terry of Hull called the _Cogge_, with thirty woollen broad cloths and a
thousand narrow cloths, to the value of £200. In 1398 the _Trinity_ of
Hull, laden with wax, oil and other goods, was captured by the same class
of men off Norway. Dutch ships, merchant craft from the port of London,
fishing vessels, Prussian traders, Zealand, Yarmouth and other ships were
constantly being attacked, pillaged and captured.

In the month of September, of the year 1398, a number of Hanseatic
pirates waylaid a Prussian ship whose skipper was named Rorebek. She
carried a valuable cargo of woollen cloth which was the property of
various merchants in Colchester. This the pirates took away with them,
together with five Englishmen, whom they found on board. The latter
they thrust into prison as soon as they got them ashore, and of these
two were ransomed subsequently for the sum of 20 English nobles, while
another became blind owing to the rigours of his imprisonment. In 1394
another Prussian ship, containing a number of merchants from Yarmouth
and Norwich, was also captured off the Norwegian coast with a cargo of
woollen goods and taken off by the Hanseatic pirates. The merchants were
cast into prison and not allowed their liberty until the sum of 100 marks
had been paid for their ransom. Another vessel, laden with the hides of
oxen and sheep, with butter, masts and spars and other commodities to the
value of 100 marks, was taken in Longsound, Norway.

In June 1395 another English ship, laden with salt fish, was taken
off the coast of Denmark, the value of her hull, inventory and cargo
amounting to £170. The crew consisted of a master and twenty-five
mariners, whom the pirates slew. There was also a lad found on board,
and him they carried into Wismar with them. The most notorious of
these Hanseatic pirates were two men, named respectively Godekins and
Stertebeker, whose efforts were as untiring as they were successful.
There is scarcely an instance of North Sea piracy at this time in which
these two men or their accomplices do not figure. And it was these same
men who attacked a ship named the _Dogger_. The latter was skippered by
a man named Gervase Cat, and she was lying at anchor while her crew were
engaged fishing. The Hanseatic pirates, however, swept down on them, took
away with them a valuable cargo of fish, beat and wounded the master and
crew of the _Dogger_ and caused the latter to lose their fishing for that
year, “being endamaged thereby to the summe of 200 nobles.”

In the year 1402 other Hanseatic corsairs, while cruising about near
Plymouth, captured a Yarmouth barge named the _Michael_, the master of
which was one Robert Rigweys. She had a cargo of salt and a thousand
canvas cloths. The ship and goods being captured, the owner, a man named
Hugh ap Fen, complained that he was the loser to the extent of 800
nobles: and the master and mariners assessed the loss of wages, canvas
and “armour” at 200 nobles. But there was no end to the daring of these
corsairs of the North. In the spring of 1394 they proceeded with a large
fleet of ships to the town of Norbern in Norway, and having taken the
place by assault, they captured all the merchants therein, together with
their “goods and cattels,” burnt their houses and put their persons up to
ransom. Twenty-one houses, to the value of 440 nobles, were destroyed,
and goods to the value of £1815 were taken from the merchants. With
all this lawlessness on the sea and the consequent injury to overseas
commerce, it was none too soon that Henry IV. took steps to put down a
most serious evil.

We cannot but feel sorry for the long-suffering North Sea fishermen, who,
in addition to having to ride out bad weather in clumsy leaky craft, and
having to work very hard for their living, were liable at any time to see
a pirate ship approaching them over the top of the waves. You remember
the famous Dogger Bank incident a few years ago when one night the North
Sea trawlers found themselves being shelled by the Russian Baltic fleet.
Well, in much the same way were the mediæval ancestors of these hardy
fishermen surprised by pirates when least expecting them and when most
busily occupied in pursuing their legitimate calling. The fisherman was
like a magnet to the pirates, because his catch of fish had only to be
taken to the nearest port and sold. That was the reason why, in 1295,
Edward had been induced to send three ships of Yarmouth across the North
Sea to protect the herring-ships of Holland and Zealand.

The following incident well illustrates the statement that, in spite of
all the efforts which were made to repress piracy, yet it was almost
impossible to attain such an object. The month is July, and the year
1327, the scene being the English Channel. Picture to your mind a beamy,
big-bellied, clumsy ship with one mast and one great square sail. She
has come from Waterford in Ireland, where she has taken on board a rich
cargo, consisting of wool, hides and general merchandise. She has safely
crossed the turbulent Irish Sea, she has wallowed her way through the
Atlantic swell round Land’s End and found herself making good headway
up the English Channel in the summer breeze. Her port of destination
is Bruges, but she will never get there. For from the eastward have
come the famous pirates of the Cinque Ports, and off the Isle of Wight
they fall in with the merchant ship. The rovers soon sight her, come up
alongside, board her and relieve her of forty-two sacks of wool, twelve
dickers of hides, three pipes of salmon, two pipes of cheese, one bale of
cloth, to say nothing of such valuable articles as silver plate, mazer
cups, jewels, sparrow-hawks and other goods of the total value of £600.
Presently the pirates bring their spoil into the Downs below Sandwich and
dispose of it as they prefer.

PIRACY IN THE EARLY TUDOR TIMES

The kind of man who devotes his life to robbery at sea is not the species
of humanity who readily subjects himself to laws and ordinances. You may
threaten him with terrible punishments, but it is not by these means that
you will break his spirit. He is like the gipsy or the vagrant: he has
in him an overwhelming longing for wandering and adventure. It is not so
much the greed for gain which prompts the pirate, any more than the land
tramp finds his long marches inspired by wealth. But some impelling blind
force is at work within, and so not all the treaties and agreements, not
all the menaces of death could avail to keep these men from pursuing the
occupation which their fathers and grandfathers had for many years been
employed in.

Therefore piracy was quite as bad in the sixteenth century as it had
been in the Middle Ages. The dwellers on either side of the English
Channel were ever ready to pillage each other’s ships and property. About
the first and second decade of the sixteenth century the Scots rose to
some importance in the art of sea-robbery, and some were promptly taken
and executed. In vain did Henry VIII. write to Francis I. saying that
complaints had been made by English merchants that their ships had been
pirated by Frenchmen pretending to be Scots, for which redress could
not be obtained in France. In 1531 matters had become so bad, and piracy
was so prevalent, that commissioners were appointed to make inquisitions
concerning this illegal warfare round our coasts. Viscount Lisle,
Vice-Admiral of England, and others were appointed to see to the problem.
So cunning had these rovers become that it was no easy affair to capture
them. But in this same year a notorious pirate named Kellwanton was taken
in the Isle of Man; while another, De Melton by name, who was one of his
accomplices, fled with the rest of the crew in the ship to Grimsby.

Sometimes the very ships which had been sent by the king against the
pirates actually engaged in pillage themselves. There was at least one
instance about this time of some royal ships being unable to resist the
temptation to plunder the richly laden Flemish ships. But after complaint
was made the royal reply came that the Flemings should be compensated
and the plunderers punished. It was all very well to set a thief to
catch a thief, but there were few English seamen of any experience who
had not done some piracy at some time of their career, and when they at
last formed the crews of preventive ships and got wearied of waiting for
pirate craft to come along, it was too much to expect them to remain idle
on the seas when a rich merchantman went sailing past.

Sometimes the pirates would waylay a whole merchant fleet, and if the
latter were sailing light, would relieve the fleet of their victuals,
their clothes, their anchors and cables and sails. But it was not merely
to the North Sea nor to the English Channel that the English pirates
confined themselves. In October 1533 they captured a Biscayan ship
off the coast of Ireland. And during the reign of Henry VIII. there
was an interesting incident connected with a ship named the _Santa
Maria Desaie_. This craft belonged to one Peter Alves, a Portingale,
who hired a mariner, William Phelipp, to pilot his ship from Tenby to
Bastabill Haven. But whilst off the Welsh coast a piratical bark named
the _Furtuskewys_, containing thirty-five desperate corsairs, attacked
the _Santa Maria_ and completely overpowered her. Alves they promptly
got rid of by putting him ashore somewhere on the Welsh coast, and they
then proceeded to sail the ship to Cork, where they sold her to the mayor
and others, the value of the captured craft and goods being 1524 crowns.
Alves did not take this assault with any resignation, but naturally used
his best endeavours to have the matter set right. From the King’s Council
he obtained a command to the Mayor of Cork for restitution, but such was
the lawlessness of the time that this was of no avail. The mayor, whose
name was Richard Gowllys, protested that the pirates told him they had
captured the ship from the Scots and not from the Portingale, and he
added that he would spend £100 rather than make restitution.

But stricter vigilance caused the arrest of some of these pirates. Six of
them were sentenced to death in the Admiralty Court at Boulogne, eleven
others were condemned to death in the Guildhall, London: and in 1537 a
ship was lying at Winchelsea “in gage to Bell the mayor” for £35 for the
piracies committed in her, for she had been captured after having robbed
a Gascon merchantman of a cargo of wines.

The finest of the French sailors for many a century until even the
present day have ever been the Bretons. And just as in the eighteenth
century the most expert sailormen on our coasts were the greatest
smugglers, so in Tudor times the pick of all seamen were sea-rovers.
About the time of Lent, 1537, a couple of Breton pirate ships caused a
great deal of anxiety to our west-country men. One of the two had robbed
an English ship off the Cornish coast and pillaged his cargo of wine.
From Easter-time till August these rovers hung about the Welsh coast,
sometimes coming ashore for provisions and most probably also to sell
their ill-gotten cargoes, but for the most part remaining at sea. It
would seem from the historical records that originally there had been
only one Breton ship that had sailed from St. Malo; but having the good
fortune to capture a fishing craft belonging to Milford Haven, the crew
had been split up into two. Presently the numbers of these French pirates
increased till there was quite a fleet of them cruising about the Welsh
coast. A merchant ship that had loaded a fine cargo at Bristol, bound
across the Bay of Biscay, had been boarded before the voyage had been
little more than begun. For week after week these men robbed every ship
that came past them. But especially were they biding their time waiting
for the English, Irish and Welsh ships who were wont about this period of
the year to come to St. James’s Fair at Bristol.

However, in the meanwhile, the men of the west were becoming much more
alert, and were ready for any chance that might occur. And a Bristol man
named Bowen, after fourteen Breton pirates had come ashore near Tenby
to obtain victuals, acted with such smartness that he was able to have
the whole lot captured and put into prison. And John Wynter, another
Bristolian, knowing that the pirates were hovering about for those ships
bound for the fair, promptly manned a ship, embarked fifty soldiers, as
well as the able seamen, and cruised about ready to swoop down on the
first pirate ship which showed up on the horizon. The full details of
these men and what they did would make interesting reading if they were
obtainable; but we know that of the above-mentioned fourteen, one, John
du Laerquerac, was captain of the Breton craft. On being arrested he
stoutly denied that he had ever “spoiled” English ships. That was most
certainly a bare-faced lie, and presently Peter Dromyowe, one of his own
mariners, confessed that he himself had robbed one Englishman; whereupon
Laerquerac made a confession that, as a matter of fact, he had taken
ships’ ropes, sailors’ wearing apparel, five pieces of wine, a quantity
of fish, a gold crown in money and eleven silver halfpence or pence, as
well as four daggers and a “couverture”!

It was because the English merchants complained that they lost so much
of their imports and exports by depredations from the ships of war
belonging to Biscay, Spain, the Low Countries, Normandy, Brittany and
elsewhere, that Henry VIII. had been prevailed upon to send Sir John
Dudley, his Vice-Admiral, to sea with a small fleet of good ships.
Dudley’s orders were to cruise between the Downs on the east and St.
Michael’s Mount on the west—in other words, the whole length of the
English Channel—according as the wind should serve. In addition, he was
to stand off and on between Ushant and Scilly and so guard the entrance
to the Channel. Furthermore, he was to look in at the Isle of Lundy in
the Bristol Channel—for both Lundy and the Scillies were famous pirate
haunts—and after having so done he was to return and keep the narrow
seas. Dudley was especially admonished to be on the look out to succour
any English merchant ships, and should he meet with any foreign merchant
craft which, under the pretence of trading, were actually robbing the
King’s subjects, he was to have these foreigners treated as absolute
pirates and punished accordingly.

For the state of piracy had become so bad that the King “can no longer
suffer it.” So also Sir Thomas Dudley, as well as Sir John, was busily
employed in the same preventive work. On the 10th of August of that same
year, 1537, he wrote to Cromwell that he had at Harwich arrested a couple
of Frenchmen who two years previously had robbed a poor English skipper’s
craft off the coast of Normandy, and this Englishman had in vain sued
in France for a remedy, since the pirates could never be captured. But
there were so many of these corsairs being now taken that it was a grave
problem as to how they should be dealt with. “If they were all committed
to ward,” wrote Sir Thomas, “as your letters direct, they would fill
the gaol.” Then he adds: “They would fain go and leave the ship behind
them, which only contains ordnance, and no goods or victuals to find
themselves with. If they go to gaol, they are like to perish of hunger,
for Englishmen will do no charity to them. They are as proud naves as I
have talked with.”

Eleven days later came the report from Sir John Dudley of his experiences
in the Channel. He stated that while on his way home he encountered a
couple of Breton ships in the vicinity of St. Helen’s, Isle of Wight,
where he believed they were lying in wait for two Cornish ships “that
were within Porchemouthe haven, laden with tin to the value of £3000.”
Portsmouth is, of course, just opposite St. Helen’s, and on more than one
occasion in naval history was the latter found a convenient anchorage
by hostile ships waiting for English craft to issue forth from the
mainland. But when these Breton pirates espied Dudley’s ships coming
along under sail, they “made in with Porchemouthe,” where Dudley’s men
promptly boarded them and placed them under arrest, with the intention
of bringing them presently to the Thames. Dudley had no doubt whatever
that these were pirates, but at a later date the French ambassador
endeavoured to show that there was no foundation for such a suspicion.
These two French crafts, he sought to persuade, were genuine merchantmen
who had discharged their cargo at “St. Wallerie’s” (that is to say,
St. Valery-sur-Somme), but had been driven to the Isle of Wight by bad
weather, adding, doubtless as a subtle hint, that they had actually
rescued an Englishman chased by a Spaniard. It is possible that the
Frenchmen were telling the truth, though unless the wind had come
southerly and so made it impossible for these bluff-bowed craft to beat
into their port, it is difficult to believe that they could not have run
into one of their own havens. At any rate, it was a yarn which Dudley’s
sailors found not easy to accept.

This was no isolated instance of the capture of Breton craft. In the
year 1532 a Breton ship named the _Mychell_, whose owner was one Hayman
Gillard, her master being Nicholas Barbe of St. Malo, was encountered by
a crew of English seamen who entertained no doubts whatsoever as to her
being anything else than a pirate. Their suspicions were made doubly sure
when they found her company to consist of nine Bretons and five Scots.
They arrested her at sea, and when examined she was found well laden with
wool, cloth and salt hides. Some French pirate ships even went so far as
to wear the English flag of St. George, with the red cross on a white
ground. This not unnaturally infuriated English seamen, especially when
it was discovered that the Bretons had also carried Englishmen as their
pilots and chief mariners, and were training them to become experts in
piracy.

But there were times when English seamen and merchants were able to “get
their own back” with interest, as the following incident will show. At
the beginning of June, in the year 1538, an English merchant, Henry
Davy, freighted a London ship named the _Clement_, which was owned
by one Grenebury, who lived in Thames Street, and dispatched her with
orders to proceed to the “Bay in Breteyne.” She set forth under the
command of a man named Lyllyk, the ship’s purser being William Scarlet,
a London clothworker. Seven men formed her crew, but when off Margate
they took on board nine more. They then proceeded down Channel and took
on board another four from the shore, but espying a Flemish ship of war
they deemed it prudent to get hold of the coast of Normandy as soon as
possible. In the “mayne” sea—by which I understand the English Channel
near the mainland of the Continent—they descried coming over the waves
three ships, and these were found to be Breton merchantmen.

This caused some discussion on board the _Clement_, and Davy, the
charterer, who had come with the ship, remarked to the skipper Lyllyk
that they had lost as much as £60 in goods, which had been captured by
Breton pirates at an earlier date, and had never been able to obtain
compensation in France in spite of all their endeavours. Any one who has
any imagination and a knowledge of seafaring human nature, can easily
picture Lyllyk and his crew cordially agreeing with Davy’s point of
view, and showing more than a mere passive sympathy. The upshot of the
discussion was that they resolved to take the law into their own hands
and capture one of these three ships.

The resolution was put into effect, so that before long they had become
possessed of the craft. The Breton crew were rowed ashore in a boat and
left there, and after collecting the goods left behind, the Englishmen
stowed them in the hold of the _Clement_. A prize crew, consisting of a
man whose name was Comelys, and four seamen, were placed in charge of
the captured ship, which now got under way. The _Clement_, too, resumed
her voyage, and made for Peryn in Cornwall, where she was able to sell,
at a good price, the goods taken out of the Breton. The gross amount
obtained was divided up among the captors, and though the figures may not
seem very large, yet the sum represented the equivalent of what would
be to-day about ten times that amount of money. Henry Davy, being the
charterer, received £17; the master, the mate, the quarter-master and
the purser received each thirty shillings, while the mariners got twenty
shillings apiece. Lyllyk and nine of the crew then departed, while Davy,
Scarlet, Leveret the carpenter and two others got the ship under way,
sailed up Channel and brought the _Clement_ back to the Thames, where
they delivered her to the wife of the owner.

But Englishmen were not always so fortunate, and the North Sea pirates
were still active, in spite of the efforts which had been made by English
kings in previous centuries. In 1538 the cargo ship _George Modye_ put to
sea with goods belonging to a company of English merchant adventurers,
consisting of Sir Ralph Waryn, “good Mr. Lock and Rowland Hyll” and
others. She never reached her port of destination, however, for the
Norwegian pirates pillaged her and caused a loss to the adventurers of
£10,000, whereupon, after complaint had been made, Cromwell was invoked
to obtain letters from Henry VIII. to the kings of Denmark, France and
Scotland that search might be duly made. There was, in fact, a good
deal of luck, even yet, as to whether a ship would ever get to the
harbour whither she was sent. In September 1538 we find Walter Herbart
complaining that twice since Candlemas he had been robbed by Breton
pirates. But, a week later, it is recorded that some pirates, who had
robbed peaceable ships bound from Iceland, had been chased by John
Chaderton and others of Portsmouth and captured about this time.

And it was not always that Englishmen dealt with these foreigners in any
merciful manner, regardless of right or wrong. I have already emphasised
the fact that, as regards the question of legality, there was little
to choose between the seamen of any maritime nation. Rather it was a
question of opportunity, and the very men who to-day complained bitterly
of the robbery of their ships and cargoes might to-morrow be found
performing piracy themselves. A kind of sea-vendetta went on, and in the
minds of the mariners the only sin was that of being found out. So we
notice that, in the spring of 1539, an instance of a Breton ship being
captured by English corsairs who, according to the recognised custom of
the sea, forthwith threw overboard the French sailors. These were all
drowned except one who, “as if by a miracle, swam six miles to shore.”
So says the ancient record, though it is difficult to believe that even
a strong swimmer could last out so long after being badly knocked about.
The Bretons had their revenge this time, for complaint was made to the
chief justices, who within fifteen days had the culprits arrested and
condemned, and six of them were executed on the 19th of May. Before
the end of the month Francis I. wrote to thank the English king for so
promptly dealing with the culprits.

Bearing in mind the interest which Henry VIII. took in nautical matters
and in the welfare of his country generally; recollecting, too, the
determination with which he pursued any project to the end when once
his mind had been made up, we need not be surprised to find that a few
months later in that year this resolute monarch again sent ships—this
time a couple of barks of 120 and 90 tons respectively—“well manned and
ordnanced” to scour the seas for these pirate pests that inflicted so
many serious losses on the Tudor merchants.

A little earlier in that year Vaughan had written to Cromwell that he had
spoken with one who lately had been a “common passenger” in hoys between
London and Antwerp and knew of certain pirates who intended to capture
the merchant ships plying between those two ports. Valuable warning was
given concerning one of these roving craft. She belonged to Hans van
Meghlyn, who had fitted out a ship of the “portage” of 20 lasts and 45
tons burthen. She was manned by a crew of thirty, her hull was painted
black with pitch, she had no “foresprit,” and her foremast leaned forward
like a “lodeman’s” boat. (“Lodeman” was the olden word for pilot—the man
who hove the lead.) Cromwell was advised that this craft would proceed
first to Orfordness (the natural landfall for a vessel to make when bound
across the North Sea from the Schelde), and thence she would proceed
south and lie in wait for ships at the mouth of the Thames. In order to
be ready to pillage either the inward or outward bound craft which traded
with London, this pirate would hover about off White Staple (Whitstable).
Vaughan’s informant thought that sometimes, however, she would change
her locality to the Melton shore in order to avoid suspicion, and he
advised that it would be best to capture her by means of three or four
well-manned oyster boats. There was also another “Easterling” (that is,
one from the east of Germany or the Baltic) pirate who had received his
commission from the Grave of Odenburg. This rover was named Francis Beme
and was now at Canfyre with his ship, waiting for the Grave of Odenburg’s
return from Brussels with money. But the warning news came in time, and
in order to prevent the English merchant ships from falling into the
sea-rovers’ hands, the former were ordered by proclamation to remain in
Antwerp from Ash Wednesday till Easter.

CHAPTER IV

THE CORSAIRS OF THE SOUTH

When, in the year 1516, Hadrian, Cardinal St. Chryogon, wrote to Wolsey
bitterly lamenting that from Taracina right away to Pisa pirates,
consisting of Turks and African Moors, were swarming the sea, he was
scarcely guilty of any exaggeration. Multifarious and murderous though
the pirates of Northern Europe had long since shown themselves, yet it is
the Mediterranean which, throughout history, and more especially during
the sixteenth century, has earned the distinction of being the favourite
and most eventful sphere of robbery by sea.

You may ask how this came about. It was no longer the case of the old
Cilicians or the Balearic Islanders coming into activity once more. On
the contrary, the last-mentioned people, far from being pirates in the
sixteenth century, were actually pillaged than pillagers. A new element
had now been introduced, and we enter upon a totally different sphere
of the piratical history. Before we seek to inquire into the origin and
development of this new force which comes across the pages of history,
let us bear in mind the change which had come over the Mediterranean.
During the classical times piracy was indeed bad enough, because, among
other things, it interfered so seriously with the corn ships which
carried the means of sustenance. But in those days the number of freight
ships of any kind was infinitesimal compared with the enormous number of
fighting craft that were built by the Mediterranean nations. And however
much Greece and Rome laboured to develop the warlike galley, yet the
evolution of the merchant ship was sadly neglected, partly, no doubt,
because of the risks which a merchant ship ran and partly because the
centuries of fighting evoked little encouragement for a ship of commerce.

During the centuries which followed the downfall of the Roman Empire
it must not be supposed that the sea was bereft of pirates. As we have
already seen, the decay of Rome was commensurate with the revival
of piracy. But with the gradual spread of southern civilisation the
importance of and the demand for commercial ships, as differentiated from
fighting craft, increased to an unheard-of extent. No one requires to be
reminded of the rise to great power of Venice and Genoa and Spain. They
became great overseas traders within limits, and this postulated the
ships in which goods could be carried. So it came to this that crossing
and recrossing the Mediterranean there were more big-bellied ships
full of richer cargoes and traversing the sea with greater regularity
than ever had been in the history of the world. And as there will
always be robbers when given the opportunity, either by sea or by land,
irrespective of race or time, so when this amount of wealth was now
afloat the sea-robber had every incentive to get rich quickly by a means
that appealed in the strongest terms to an adventurous temperament.

In Italy the purely warlike ship had become so obsolete that, in the
opinion of some authorities, it was not till about the middle of the
ninth century that these began to be built, at any rate as regards
that great maritime power, Venice. She had been too concerned with the
production and exchange of wealth to centre her attention on any species
of ship other than those which would carry freights. But so many defeats
had she endured at the hands of the Saracens and pirates that ships
specially suitable for combat had, from the year 841, to be built. The
Saracens hailed from Arabia, and it is notable that at that time the
Arabian sailors who used to sail across the Indian Ocean were far and
away the most scientific navigators in the whole world, many of their
Arabic terms still surviving in nautical terminology to this day. Indeed,
the modern mariner who relies so much on nautical instruments scarcely
realises how much he owes to these early seamen. Just as the Cilicians
and others had in olden times harassed the shores of the Mediterranean,
so now the Saracens made frequent incursions into Sardinia, Corsica,
Sicily, as well as intercepting the ships of the Adriatic.

Let us remember that both in the north and south of Europe the sailing
seasons for century after century were limited to that period which is
roughly indicated between the months of April and the end of September.
Therefore the pirate knew that if he confined his attentions to that
period and within certain sea-areas, he would be able to encompass
practically the whole of the world’s sea-borne trade. These sailing
periods were no arbitrary arrangement: they were part of the maritime
legislation, and only the most daring and, at the same time, most lawless
merchant skippers ventured forth in the off-season.

Realising that the mariner had in any lengthy voyage to contend not
merely with bad weather but probably with pirates, the merchant pilots
were instructed to know how to avoid them. For instance, their main
object should be to make the merchant ship as little conspicuous on the
horizon as possible. Thus, after getting clear of the land, the white
sail should be lowered and a black one hoisted instead. They were warned
that it was especially risky to change sail at break of day when the
rising sun might make this action easily observable. A man was to be sent
aloft to scan the sea, looking for these rovers and keep a good look
out. That black sail was called the “wolf,” because it had the colour
and cunning of such an animal. At night, too, similar precautions were
employed against any danger of piratical attack, strict silence being
absolutely enforced, so that the boatswain was not even allowed to use
his whistle, nor the ship’s bell to be sounded. Every one knows how
easily a sound carries on the sea, especially by night, so the utmost
care was to be exercised lest a pirate hovering about might have the rich
merchant ship’s presence betrayed to her avaricious ears.

But the Saracens, whose origin I have just mentioned, must not be
confused with the Barbarian corsairs. It is with the latter—the grand
pirates of the South—that I pass on now to deal. So powerful did they
become that it took the efforts of the great maritime powers of Europe
till the first quarter of the nineteenth century before they could
exterminate this scourge: and even to-day, in this highly civilised
century, if you were to be becalmed off the coast of North Africa in
a sailing yacht, you would soon find some of the descendants of these
Barbarian corsairs coming out with their historic tendency to kill you
and pillage your ship. If this statement should seem to any reader
somewhat incredible, I would refer him to the captain of any modern
steamship who habitually passes that coast: and I would beg also to call
to his attention the incident a few years ago that occurred to the famous
English racing yacht _Ailsa_, which was lying becalmed somewhere between
Spain and Africa. But for a lucky breeze springing up, her would-be
assailants might have captured a very fine prize.

I shall use the word Moslem to mean Mussulman, or Mohammedan, or Moor,
and I shall ask the reader to carry his mind back to the time when
Ferdinand and Isabella turned the Moors out from Spain, and sent them
across the straits of Gibraltar back to Africa. For seven hundred years
these Moors had lived in the Iberian peninsula. It must be admitted in
fairness that these Moors were exceedingly gifted intellectually, and
there are ample evidences in Spain to this day of their accomplishments.
On the other hand, it is perfectly easy to appreciate the desire of a
Christian Government to banish these Mohammedans from a Catholic country.
Equally comprehensible is the bitter hatred which these Moors for ever
after manifested against all Christians of any nation, but against the
Spanish more especially.

What were these Spanish Moors, now expatriated, to do? They spread
themselves along the North African coast, but it was not immediately that
they took to the sea; when, however, they did so accustom themselves it
was not as traders but as pirates of the worst and most cruel kind. The
date of their expulsion from Granada was 1492, and within a few years of
this they had set to work to become avenged. The type of craft which they
favoured was of the galley species, a vessel that was of great length, in
proportion to her extreme shallowness, and was manned by a considerable
number of oarsmen. Sail power was employed but only as auxiliary rather
than of main reliance. Such a craft was light, easily and quickly
manœuvred, could float in creeks and bays close in to the shore, or could
be drawn up the beach if necessary. In all essential respects she was
the direct lineal descendant of the old fighting galleys of Greece and
Rome. From about the beginning of the sixteenth century till the battle
of Lepanto in 1571 the Moslem corsair was at his best as a sea-rover and
a powerful racial force. And if he was still a pest to shipping after
that date, yet his activities were more of a desultory nature. Along
the Barbarian coast at different dates he made himself strong, though
of these strongholds Algiers remained for the longest time the most
notorious.

In considering these Moslem corsairs one must think of men who were as
brutal as they were clever, who became the greatest galley-tacticians
which the world has ever seen. Their greed and lust for power and
property were commensurate with their ability to obtain these. Let it not
be supposed for one moment that during the grand period these Moorish
pirate leaders were a mere ignorant and uncultured number of men. On
the contrary, they possessed all the instincts of a clever diplomatist,
united to the ability of a great admiral and an autocratic monarch.
Dominating their very existence was their bitter hatred of Christians
either individually or as nations. And though a careful distinction must
be made between these Barbarian corsairs and the Turks, who were often
confused in the sixteenth-century accounts of these rovers, yet from a
very early stage the Moorish pirates and the Turks assisted each other.
You have only to remember that they were both Moslems; to remind yourself
that the downfall of Constantinople in 1453 gave an even keener incentive
to harass Christians; and to recollect that though the Turks were great
fighters by land yet they were not seamen. They had an almost illimitable
quantity of men to draw upon, and for this as well as other reasons it
was to the Moors’ interests that there should be a close association with
them.

During the fifteenth and especially the sixteenth centuries there was
in general European use a particular word which instantly suggested a
certain character that would stink in the nostrils of any Christian,
be he under the domination of Elizabeth or Charles V. This word was
“renegade,” which, of course, is derived from the Latin _nego_, I deny.
“Renegade,” or, as the Elizabethan sailors often used it, “renegado”
signifies an apostate from the faith—a deserter or turncoat. But it was
applied in those days almost exclusively to the Christian who had so far
betrayed his religion as to become a Moslem. In the fifteenth century a
certain Balkan renegade was exiled from Constantinople by the Grand Turk.
From there he proceeded to the south-west, took up his habitation in the
island of Lesbos in the Ægean Sea, married a Christian widow and became
the father of two sons, named respectively Uruj and Kheyr-ed-din. The
renegade, being a seaman, it was but natural that the two sons should be
brought up to the same avocation.

Having regard to the ancestry of these two men, and bearing in mind that
Lesbos had long been notorious for its piratical inhabitants, the reader
will in no wise be surprised to learn that these two sons resolved to
become pirates too. They were presently to reach a state of notoriety
which time can never expunge from the pages of historical criminals.
For the present let us devote our attention to the elder brother, Uruj.
We have little space to deal with the events of his full life, but this
brief sketch may suffice. The connection of these two brothers with the
banished Moors is that of organisers and leaders of a potential force of
pirates. Uruj, having heard of the successes which the Moorish galleys
were now attaining, of the wonderful prizes which they had carried off
from the face of the sea, felt the impulse of ambition and responded to
the call of the wild. So we come to the year 1504, and we find him in
the Mediterranean longing for a suitable base whence he could operate;
where, too, he could haul his galleys ashore during the winter and refit.

[Illustration: A DARING ATTACK

Uruj with his one craft attacked the two galleys of Pope Julius II
laden with goods from Genoa. His officers remonstrated with Uruj on the
desperate venture, but to enforce his commands and prevent any chance of
flight he had the oars thrown overboard. He then attacked and overcame
the galleys.]

For a time Tunis seemed to be the most alluring spot in every way:
and strategically it was ideal for the purpose of rushing out and
intercepting the traffic passing between Italy and Africa. He came to
terms with the Sultan of Tunis, and, in return for one-fifth of the booty
obtained, Uruj was permitted to use this as his headquarters, and from
here he began with great success to capture Italian galleys, bringing
back to Tunis both booty and aristocratic prisoners for perpetual exile.
The women were cast into the Sultan’s harem, the men were chained to the
benches of the galleys.

One incident alone would well illustrate the daring of Uruj, who had now
been joined by his brother. The story is told by Mr. Stanley Lane Poole
in his history of the Barbarian corsairs, that one day, when off Elba,
two galleys belonging to Pope Julius II. were coming along laden with
goods from Genoa for Civita Vecchia. The disparity and the daring may
be realised when we state that each of these galleys was twice the size
of Uruj’s craft. The Papal galleys had become separated, and this made
matters easier for the corsair. In spite of the difference in size, he
was determined to attack. His Turkish crew, however, remonstrated and
thought it madness, but Uruj answered this protestation by hurling most
of the oars overboard, thus making escape impossible: they had to fight
or die.

This was the first time that Turkish corsairs had been seen off Elba,
and as the Papal galley came on and saw the turbaned heads, a spirit
of consternation spread throughout the ship. The corsair galley came
alongside, there was a volley of firing, the Turkish men leapt aboard,
and before long the ship and the Christians were captured. The
Christians were sent below, and the Papal ship was now manned by Turks
who disguised themselves in the Christians’ clothes. And now they were
off to pursue the second galley. As they came up to her the latter had no
suspicion, but a shower of arrows and shot, followed by another short,
sharp attack, made her also a captive. Into Tunis came the ships, and the
capture amazed both Barbarian corsair and the whole of Christendom alike.
The fame of Uruj spread, and along the whole coast of North Africa he
was regarded with a wonder mingled with the utmost admiration. He became
known by the name Barbarossa, owing to his own physical appearance, the
Italian word _rossa_ signifying red, and _barba_ meaning a beard. He
followed up this success by capturing next year a Spanish ship with 500
soldiers. And there were other successes, so that in five years he had
eight vessels. But Tunis now became too small for him, so for a time he
moved to the island of Jerba, on the east coast of Tunis, and from there
he again harassed Italy.

Such was the fame of Barbarossa that he was invited to help the Moors. It
chanced that the Moslem king of Bujeya had been driven out of his city
by the Spaniards, and the exile appealed to Barbarossa to assist him
in regaining his own. The reward offered to the Turk was that, in the
event of victory, Barbarossa should henceforth be allowed the free use
of Bujeya, the strategic advantage of this port being that it commanded
the Spanish sea. The Turk accepted the invitation on these terms, and
having now a dozen galleys, with ample armament, in addition to 1000
Turkish soldiers, as well as a number of renegades and Moors, he landed
before the town in August of 1512. Here he found the King ready with
his 3000 troops, and they proceeded to storm the bastion, in which an
all too weak Spanish garrison had been left. Still, for eight days the
Spaniards held out, and then when a breach was made and a fierce assault
was being carried out, Barbarossa had the misfortune to have his left arm
amputated, so, Bujeya being now left alone, Barbarossa and his brother
put to sea again. They had not won the victory, but they had captured a
rich Genoese galley full of merchandise. Barbarossa took her back with
him to his headquarters, and while he recovered from his wounds his
brother Kheyr-ed-din acted in his stead.

Not unnaturally the Genoese were angered at the loss of their fine
galliot and sent forth Andrea Doria, the greatest Christian admiral, with
a dozen galleys to punish the Turks. The Christians landed before Tunis,
drove Kheyr-ed-din back into Tunis, and took away to Genoa one-half
of Barbarossa’s ships. Kheyr-ed-din now proceeded to Jerba to build
other ships as fast as possible, and as soon as his wounds allowed him,
Barbarossa here joined him. Meanwhile the Moors were still chafing at
their inability to get even with the Spaniards, and once more an attempt
was made to take Bujeya, though unsuccessfully, and the corsair’s ships
were burnt lest they might fall into the hands of the enemy.

At length the Barbarossas resolved to quit Tunis and Jerba, for they
had now chosen to settle at Jijil, sixty miles to the east of Bujeya.
Their fame had come before them; the inhabitants were proud to welcome
the brother corsairs who had done many wonderful things by land and sea,
and before long the elder Barbarossa was chosen as their Sultan. In 1516
died Ferdinand, and about this time the Algerine Moors declined any
longer to pay tribute to Spain. To Barbarossa came an invitation to aid
these inhabitants of Algiers in driving the Spanish garrison from their
fort. The invitation was accepted, 6000 men and sixteen galliots were
got together. Arrived before the fortress of Algiers, Barbarossa offered
a safe conduct to the garrison if they would surrender, but the latter’s
reply was merely to remind the corsair of Bujeya. Then for twenty days
Barbarossa battered away at the fortress, but without making a breach,
and meanwhile the Moors began to regret that they had asked the red beard
to aid them. But it would be less easy to turn them out now that once
these dare-devils had set foot on their territory. Barbarossa knew this
and waxed insolent. The Algerines made common cause with the soldiers in
the fortress, and a general rising against the red beard was planned. But
they had reckoned without their guest. For Barbarossa had spies at work
and became informed of this plot.

Whilst at prayers one Friday in the mosque, Barbarossa had the gates
closed, the conspirators brought before him one by one, and then after
twenty-two of them had been put to death there was an end to this
plotting against the corsair of Lesbos. Barbarossa increased in power,
in the number of his galleys, in the extent of his territory and in the
number of his subjects, so that by now he had become Sultan of Middle
Barbary. Practically the whole of that territory marked on our modern
maps of Algeria was under his sway. Step by step, leaping from one
success to another, ignoring his occasional reverses, he had risen from
a mere common pirate to the rank of a powerful Sultan. So potent had he
become, in fact, that he was able to make treaties with other Barbarian
Sultans, and all the summer season his galleys were scouring the seas
bringing back increased wealth and more unfortunate Christian prisoners.
Richly laden merchant ships from Genoa, from Naples, from Venice, from
Spain set forth from home, and neither the ships nor their contents were
ever permitted to return or to reach their ports of destination.

However, the time came when the Christian States could no longer endure
this terrible condition of affairs. And Charles V. was moved to send a
strong force to deal with the evil. Ten thousand seasoned troops were
sent in a large fleet of galleys to Northern Africa, and at last the
wasp was killed. For Barbarossa, with his 1500 men, was defeated, and he
himself was slain while fighting boldly. Unfortunately the matter ended
there, and the troops, instead of pressing home their victory and wiping
the Barbarian coast clean of this Moorish dirt, left Algiers severely
alone and returned to their homes. Had they, instead, ruthlessly sought
out this lawless piratical brood, the troublesome scourge of the next
three centuries would probably never have caused so many European ships
and so many English and foreign sailors and others to end their days
under the lash of tyrannical monsters.

CHAPTER V

THE WASPS AT WORK

But if Barbarossa was dead, his sagacious brother Kheyr-ed-din was ready
to take up his work, and he proceeded on more scientific principles. He
began by sending an ambassador to Constantinople, and begged protection
for the province of Algiers. This, having been granted, he was appointed
officially, in 1519, Governor of Algiers. His next step was to reinforce
his garrisons at different parts of the coast and so secure his territory
from attacks by sea. And in order to make for safety on the southern or
landward side, he entered into alliances with the leading Arabian tribes
up-country.

He was thus about as secure as it was possible for human diplomacy and
organisation to achieve. His ships could still go on their piratical
cruises and return with little enough risk. In vain did the Spaniards
send an Armada against him. The men indeed landed, but they were driven
back, and a storm springing up did the rest. Gradually more and more
seaports fell into the net of this corsair, so there were plenty of
harbours to run for, plenty of safe shelters whither to bring the
valuable prizes. It was not merely the middle or the eastern end of the
Mediterranean which was now harassed, but the west end. Those were the
days, you will remember, when Spain was developing the rich resources
of the New World, so there was a great opportunity for the Barbarian
pirates to go out some little distance into the Atlantic and capture the
West Indiamen homeward bound for Cadiz with gold and other treasures.
And in addition to these prizes, no less than the merchantmen of Italy,
Kheyr-ed-din occasionally made raids on the Spanish coast or even carried
off slaves from the Balearic Islands. From end to end these Algerine
corsairs were thus masters of the Mediterranean. No commercial ship could
pass on her voyages in any safety—even Spanish flagships found themselves
being brought captive into Algiers.

True, the small Spanish garrison still remained in Algiers, and because
it was immured within a very strong fortress it held out. The time now
came for this to be attacked with great vigour. For a period of fifteen
days it was bombarded, and at length, after a most stubborn resistance,
it was overcome. The stronghold was then pulled down, and Christian
prisoners who in the summer season had rowed chained to their seats in
the corsair galleys, were in the off-season employed to build with these
stones the great mole to protect the harbour of Algiers from the western
side. It was a stupendous undertaking, and seven thousand of these
unhappy creatures accomplished the work in most of two years.

Nothing succeeds like success, and the corsair prospered in power and
possession to such an extent that he was pre-eminent. This naturally
attracted to his dominion many thousands of other followers, and there
was thus established not a mere small colony of pirates, but a grand
corsair kingdom where the industry of sea-robbery was well organised with
its foundries and dockyards, and with every assistance to agriculture,
and a firm, hard government to keep the land in fit and proper
cultivation.

And now yet another invitation came to Kheyr-ed-din. Andrea Doria had
defeated the Turks at Patras and in the Dardanelles. Like the policy
of the corsairs, after each victory the Christian admiral employed the
infidel captives to work at the oars of his galleys. Thus it was that the
Sultan of Turkey—Solyman the Magnificent—realising that the Christian
admiral was draining the best Turkish seafaring men, determined to invite
Kheyr-ed-din to help him against Andrea Doria. So one of the Sultan’s
personal guard was dispatched to Algiers requesting Barbarossa to come
to Constantinople and place himself at the head of the Ottoman navy.
Barbarossa accepted this as he had accepted other invitations, seeing
that it was to his own interest, and in August 1533 left Algiers with
seven galleys and eleven other craft. On the way he was joined by sixteen
more craft belonging to a pirate named Delizuff, but before they had got
to the end of the voyage Delizuff was killed in an attack on a small
island named Biba. There followed some friction between the men of the
deceased pirate and those of Barbarossa, and finally one dark night the
ships of Delizuff stole away from Barbarossa’s fleet.

Eventually this Sultan of Algiers, with his ships, arrived at
Constantinople. The case stood thus. The Ottoman subject was an excellent
man to fight battles by land, but not by sea. Barbarossa was a true
fighting seaman: therefore let him do for us that which we ourselves
cannot do. He was only three years short of becoming an octogenarian,
yet this veteran corsair was as able as he was wicked, and so, after the
Ottoman dockyards in the following year had provided him with additional
ships, Barbarossa set forth from Constantinople and began by sacking
Reggio, burning Christian ships and carrying off their crews. Thence he
laid waste the coast until he came to Naples, and altogether made 11,000
Christians prisoners, and returned to the Bosphorus with an abundance
of spoil and slaves. Sardinia, too, was depleted of wealth and humanity
till it was almost bereft of both, and at last the fleet arrived before
Tunis, to the amazement of the inhabitants. To condense a long story it
may be said at once that, after some fighting, Tunis found itself now in
submission to him who was also Sultan of Algiers and commander-in-chief
of the Ottoman fleet. But trouble was brewing.

Again Christendom was moved to action. The successes of this
all-conquering King of Corsairs were endangering the world, so the great
Charles V. set on foot most elaborate preparations to cope with the
evil. The preparations were indeed slow, but they were sure and they
were extensive. But there was just one disappointing fact. When Francis
the First, King of France, was invited to take his share in this great
Christian expedition it is as true as it is regrettable to have to record
the fact, that not only did he decline, but he actually betrayed the news
of these impending activities to Barbarossa. This news was not welcome
even to such a hardened old pirate, but he set to work in order to be
ready for the foe, employed the Christian prisoners in repairing the
fortifications of Tunis, summoned help to his standard from all sides,
all united in the one desire to defeat and crush utterly any Christian
force that might be sent against the followers of Mahomet. Spies kept him
informed of the latest developments, and from Algiers came all the men
that could possibly be spared. And finally, when all preparations had
been made, there was on the one side the mightiest Christian expedition
about to meet the greatest aggregation of Moslems. By the middle of June
the invaders reached the African coast and found themselves before Tunis.
It was to be a contest of Christian forces against infidels: it was to
represent an attempt once and for all to settle with the greatest pirate
even the Mediterranean had ever witnessed. It was, if possible, to set
free the hordes of brother-Christians from the tyrannous cruelty of a
despotic corsair. Of those who now came over the sea, many had lost wife,
or sister, or father, or son, or brother at the hands of these heathens.
For once, at last, this great Christian Armada had the sea to itself: the
wasps had retreated into their nest.

So the attack began simultaneously from the land and from the sea. The
men on shore and those in the galleys realised they were battling in
no ordinary contest but in a veritable crusade. Twenty-five thousand
infantry and six hundred lancers, with their horses, had been brought
across the sea in sixty-two galleys, a hundred and fifty transports,
as well as a large number of other craft.[1] The Moslems had received
assistance from along the African coast and from the inland tribes.
Twenty thousand horsemen, as well as a large quantity of infantry, were
ready to meet the Christians. The Emperor Charles V. was himself present,
and Andrea Doria, the greatest Christian admiral, was there opposed to
the greatest admiral of the Moslems.

Needless to say the fight was fierce, but at last the Christians were
able to make a breach in the walls not once but in several places, and
the fortress had to be vacated. Tunis was destined to fall into Christian
hands. Barbarossa realised this now full well. What hurt him most was
that he was beaten at his own game: his own beloved galleys were to fall
into the enemies’ hands. Presently the corsairs were routed utterly,
and Barbarossa with only about three thousand of his followers escaped
by land. Now inside Tunis were no fewer than 20,000 Christian prisoners.
These now succeeded in freeing themselves of their fetters, opened the
gates to the victorious army, and the latter, unable to be controlled,
massacred the people they had been sent against right and left. The
20,000 Christians were rescued, the victory had been won, the corsair
had been put to flight, and Muley Hassan, a mere puppet, was restored
to his kingdom of Tunis by Charles V. on conditions, amongst which it
was stipulated that Muley Hassan should liberate all Christian captives
who might be in his realm, give them a free passage to their homes, and
no corsair should be allowed again to use his ports for any purpose
whatsoever.

This was the biggest blow which Barbarossa had ever received. But brute
though he was, cruel tyrant that he had shown himself, enemy of the human
race though he undoubtedly must be reckoned, yet his was a great mind,
his was a spirit which was only impelled and not depressed by disasters.
At the end of a pitiful flight, he arrived farther along the African
coast at the port of Bona, where there remained just fifteen galleys
which he had kept in reserve. All else that was his had gone—ships,
arsenal, men. But the sea being his natural element, and piracy his
natural profession, he began at once to embark. But just then there
arrived fifteen of the Christian galleys, so Barbarossa, not caring for
conflict, drew up his galleys under the fort of Bona, and the enemy
deemed it prudent to let the corsair alone, and withdrew. Soon after
Barbarossa put to sea and disappeared, when Andrea Doria with forty
galleys arrived on the scene too late.

Just as on an earlier occasion already narrated, the Christian expedition
made the mistake of not pressing home their victory and so settling
matters with the pirates for good and all. Algiers had been drained so
thoroughly of men that it was really too weak to resist an attack. But
no; the Christians left that alone, although they took Bona. About the
middle of August Charles re-embarked his men and, satisfied with the
thrashing he had given these pirates, returned home. But Barbarossa
proceeded to Algiers, where he got together a number of galleys and
waited till his former followers—or as many as had survived battle and
the African desert—returned to him. If Moslem piracy had been severely
crushed, it was not unable to revive, and, before long, Barbarossa with
his veterans was afloat again, looting ships at sea, and carrying off
more prisoners to Algiers. For this piracy was like a highly infectious
disease. You might think for a time that it was stamped out, that the
world had been cleansed of it, but in a short time it would be manifest
that the evil was as prevalent as ever.

Once more he was summoned to visit Soliman the Magnificent; once more
the arch-corsair sped to Constantinople to receive instructions to
deal with the conquering Christians. Andrea Doria was at sea, burning
Turkish ships, and only this Sultan of Algiers could deal with him. So
away Barbarossa went in his customary fashion, raiding the Adriatic
towns, sweeping the islands of the Archipelago, and soon he returned to
Constantinople with 18,000 slaves, to say nothing of material prizes.
Money was obtained as easily as human lives, and the world marvelled
that this corsair admiral, this scourge of the sea, this enemy of the
Christian race, should, after a crushing defeat, be able to go about his
dastardly work, terrifying towns and ships as though the expedition of
Charles V. had never been sent forth.

But matters were again working up to a crisis. If the corsair admiral
was still afloat, so was Andrea Doria, the great Christian admiral. At
the extreme south-west corner of the Epirus, on the Balkan side of the
Adriatic, and almost opposite the heel of Italy, lies Prevesa. Hither
in 1569 came the fleets of the Cross and the Crescent respectively. The
Christian ships had been gathered together at the Island of Corfu, which
is thirty or forty miles to the north-west of Prevesa. Barbarossa came,
assisted by all the great pirate captains of the day, and among them must
be mentioned Dragut, about whom we shall have more to say later.

But Prevesa, from a spectacular standpoint, was disappointing. It was too
scientific, too clearly marked by strategy and too little distinguished
by fighting. If the reader has ever been present at any athletic contest
where there has been more skill than sport, he will know just what I
mean. It is the spirit of the crowd at a cricket match when the batsman
is all on the defensive and no runs are being scored. It is manifested in
the spectators’ indignation at a boxing match when neither party gets in
a good blow, when there is an excess of science, when both contestants,
fairly matched and perhaps overtrained and nervous of the other’s
prowess, hesitate to go in for hard-hitting, so that in the end the match
ends in a draw.

It was exactly on this wise at Prevesa. Andrea Doria and Barbarossa
were the two great champions of the ring. Neither was young; both had
been trained by years of long fighting. They were as fairly matched
as it was possible to find a couple of great admirals. Each realised
the other’s value; both knew that for spectators they had the whole
of Europe—both Christian and Moslem. Victory to the one would mean
downfall to the other, and unless a lucky escape intervened, one of the
two great admirals would spend the rest of his life rowing his heart out
as a galley-slave. Certainly it was enough to make the boxers nervous
and hesitating. They were a long time getting to blows, and there was
but little actually accomplished. There was an unlucky calm on the sea,
and the _Galleon of Venice_ was the centre of the fighting which took
place. It was the splendid discipline on board this big craft, it was
the excellence of her commander and the unique character of her great
guns which made such an impression on Barbarossa’s fleet that although
the _Galleon_ was severely damaged, yet at the critical time when
the corsairs might have rushed on board and stormed her as night was
approaching, for once in his life the great nerve of the corsair king
deserted him. No one was more surprised than the Venetians when they
found the pirate not pressing home his attack. True, the latter had
captured a few of the Christian ships, but these were a mere handful and
out of all proportion to the importance of the battle. He had been sent
forth to crush Andrea Doria and the Christian fleet; he had failed so to
do.

Next day, with a fair wind, Andrea Doria made away. The honour of the
battle belonged to the _Galleon of Venice_, but for Barbarossa it was
a triumph because, with an inferior force, he had put the Christian
admiral to flight. Doria’s ship had not been so much as touched, and yet
Barbarossa had not been taken prisoner. That was the last great event in
the career of Kheyr-ed-din, and he died in 1548 at Constantinople as one
of the wickedest and cruellest murderers of history, the greatest pirate
that has ever lived, and one of the cleverest tacticians and strategists
the Mediterranean ever bore on its waters. There has rarely lived a
human being so bereft of the quality of mercy, and his death was received
by Christian Europe with a sigh of the greatest relief.

In the whole history of piracy there figure some remarkably clever and
consummate seamen. Like many another criminal they had such tremendous
natural endowments that one cannot but regret that they began badly
and continued. The bitterest critic of this Moslem monster cannot but
admire his abnormal courage, resource; his powers of organisation and his
untameable determination. The pity of it all is that all this should have
been wasted in bringing misery to tens of thousands, in dealing death and
robbery and pillage.

CHAPTER VI

GALLEYS AND GALLANTRY

But there was a third great Barbarian corsair to complete this terrible
trio. Uruj and Kheyr-ed-din we have known. There is yet to be mentioned
Dragut, who succeeded to the latter. He too was a Moslem who had been
born in a coast village of Asia Minor, opposite the island of Rhodes. His
early life is that of most pirates. He went to sea when quite young, was
devoted to his profession, was filled with ambition, became an expert
pilot and later became a skipper of his own craft. Then, feeling the call
of the wild, he devoted himself to piracy and rose to notoriety.

But the turning-point in his career came when he joined himself to the
service of Kheyr-ed-din, who appointed Dragut to the entire command of a
dozen of the corsair king’s galleys. Henceforward his life was that of
his master, ravaging the Italian coasts, pillaging Mediterranean ships
and dragging thousands of lives away into slavery. Two years after the
battle of Prevesa, Dragut was in fame second only to Kheyr-ed-din, and
another Doria—the nephew of Andrea—was sent forth to capture this new
wasp of the sea. Doria succeeded in throwing his net so well that off
the Corsican coast he was able to bring back Dragut as prisoner, and
for the next four years the ex-corsair was condemned to row as a slave
in a Christian galley, until on a day his late master Kheyr-ed-din came
sailing into Genoa. During his active, pillaging life he had obtained
plenty of riches, so it was nothing for him to pay 3000 ducats and thus
redeem from slavery a man who had been particularly useful to his own
schemes.

And from this day until Dragut fell fighting in 1565, he followed in
the footsteps of the man who brought him his release. When Kheyr-ed-din
died, the Turkish Sultan appointed Dragut as admiral of the Ottoman
fleet. Like Barbarossa, Dragut’s first object was to obtain a base in
Northern Africa, and eventually he was able to capture the town of
“Africa” or Mehedia, to the east of Tunis. His next proceeding was to
fortify this place. The news came to the ears of Charles V. that this had
happened. The two Barbarossas were dead, but there was another almost as
pernicious. Was this pestilence of piracy never to cease? Andrea Doria
was an old man now, but he was bidden by Charles to go after Dragut,
and he went. Nor was he sorry for an opportunity of wiping out his own
undistinguished action at Prevesa. Dragut was away harrying the coasts
of Spain, and his nephew Aisa was left in charge of “Africa.” Meanwhile
Doria searched for him along the African coast, came to “Africa,” but
after losing some men and with great damage to his own ship, Doria, as
the season was getting late, returned home.

But the following June, Doria with his fleet arrived off Mehedia,
besieged the city, and, after an expenditure of great effort, took it,
capturing Aisa.

Mehedia was lost, but Dragut was still at large. He repaired to
Constantinople and thence to Jerbah, the island off the east coast of
Tunis. Hither also came Andrea Doria and hemmed the corsair in. At last
the pirate was in a trap, but like many another clever rascal he found
a way out with consummate cleverness. What he did may briefly be summed
up as follows: Outside were the waiting Christian fleet, which was merely
amused by the sight of a new fort becoming daily greater. But these
earthworks were just so much bluff. For Dragut, by means of these, was
able to conceal what was being done on the other side. With marvellous
ingenuity he had caused a road to be made across the island to the sea on
the other side; he had laid down a surface of well-greased planks, and
under the further cover of darkness had made his men drag his galleys
across till they were launched into the sea on the opposite coast. The
rest was easy, and the corsair fleet once more escaped, having fooled
Dorea in a manner that amazed him. To add impudence to insult, Dragut at
once captured a Sicilian galley on its way to Dorea, containing Muley
Hassan, Sultan of Tunis. The latter was promptly sent as a present to the
Sultan of Turkey, who allowed him to end his days in prison.

Of the rest of the acts of this corsair we have but little space to
speak. It is sufficient if we say that he well bore the mantle which
had fallen to him from the shoulders of Barbarossa. He continued his
scourging of the seas, he fought gallantly, he laid waste and he
captured prisoners for slavery. Power and dominion came to him as to
his predecessors, and before long he was the ruler of Tripoli and more
than ever the enemy of the Christian race. Finally he died at the siege
of Malta, but he in turn was succeeded by Ali Basha of Algiers, who
conquered the kingdom of Tunis, captured Maltese galleys, and showed that
the old corsair spirit was still alive.

But the day of reckoning was at hand, and there was to be settled in
one of the most momentous events of history a debt that had long been
owing to the Christians. Of all the decisive battles of the world few
stand out more conspicuously than the battle of Lepanto. In spite of all
the great maritime expeditions which had been sent to put down piracy
in the Mediterranean, the evil had recurred again and again. There were
two reasons why Christian Europe was determined to beat these corsairs:
firstly, the latter were natural enemies because they were Moslems;
but, secondly, they were the worst type of pirates. All the losses of
Christian lives, goods and ships merely increased the natural hatred
of these Mohammedans. And in Lepanto we see the last great contest in
which these truculent corsairs fought as a mighty force. Thereafter
there were repeated piratical attacks by these men, but they of a more
individualistic nature than proceeding from an enormous organisation.

Lepanto was fought sixteen years before the Elizabethans defeated the
Armada. Before we say anything of the contest itself it is necessary to
remind the reader that whereas in the contest which took place in the
waters that wash England, the bulk of the ships were sail-propelled and
had high freeboard (with some exceptions), yet at Lepanto it was the
reverse. The fighting ship of the Mediterranean from the very earliest
times had always been of the galley type, even though it contained
variations of species. And never was this characteristic more clearly
manifested than at the battle of which we are now to speak. There were
galleys and galleasses, but though the former were certainly somewhat big
craft, yet the latter were practically only big editions of the galley.

The value of Lepanto is twofold. It proved to the world that the great
Ottoman Empire was not invincible on sea. It showed also that in
spite of all that the cleverest corsair seamen could do, there were
sufficient unity and seamanlike ability in Christian Europe to defeat
the combined efforts of organised piracy and Mohammedanism. No one can
deny that Ali Basha distinguished himself as a fine admiral at this
battle, yet he was not on the side of victory. When he found himself
defeated there fell simultaneously the greatest blow which organised
piracy had received since it established itself along the southern shores
of the Mediterranean. Lepanto was no mere isolated event; it was the
logical outcome of the conflict between Christianity on the one hand
and Mohammedanism with piracy on the other. It is as unfair to omit the
consideration of Moslemism from the cause of this battle as it were to
leave out the fact of piracy.

The solidarity of the Christian expedition was formed by what was called
the Holy League, embracing the ships of the Papal States, Spain and
Venice. The unity of the opposing side was ensured by the fidelity of
the Barbarian corsairs to the Sultan of Turkey. In supreme command of
the former was Don John of Austria, son of that Charles V. who had done
so much to oust these corsair wasps. The Christian fleet numbered about
three hundred, of which two-thirds were galleys, and they collected
at Messina. The scene where the battle was to take place was already
historic. It was practically identical with that of Prevesa, of which we
have already spoken, and with that of the classical Actium in 31 B.C.,
though exactly it was a little to the south of where Prevesa had been
fought. Just as in the latter Kheyr-ed-din had fought against Andrea
Doria, so now Dragut was to fight against John Andrea Doria. The Moslem
strength may be gauged from the statement that it contained 250 galleys
plus a number of smaller ships. But just as Prevesa had been marked
by little fighting but much manœuvring, so Lepanto was distinguished
by an absence of strategy and a prevalence of desperate, hard hitting.
Whatever strategy was displayed belonged to Ali Basha. The galleasses
of the Christian side dealt wholesale death into the Moslems, though
Andrea’s own flagship suffered severely in the fight. Spanish, Venetian
and Maltese galleys fought most gallantly, but Ali Basha, after capturing
the chief of the Maltese craft, was obliged to relinquish towing her, and
himself compelled to escape from the battle. At least 5000 Christians
perished at Lepanto, but six times that amount were slaughtered of the
Moslems, together with 200 of the latter’s ships. The corsairs had
rendered the finest assistance, but they had failed with distinction.

Christian craft had won the great day, and never since that autumn day in
1571 have the pirates of Barbary attained to their previous dominion and
organised power. Ali returned to Constantinople, and even the next year
was again anxious to fight his late enemies, though no actual fighting
took place. Still another year later Tunis was taken from the Turks by
Don John of Austria. For nine years after the event of Lepanto, Ali Basha
lived on, and, like his predecessors, spent much of his time harrying the
Christian coastline of southern Italy. There were many pirates for long
years after his death, but with the decease of Ali Basha closed the grand
period of the Moslem corsairs. It had been a century marked by the most
amazing impudence on the part of self-made kings and tyrants. But if it
showed nothing else, it made perfectly clear what enormous possibilities
the sea offered to any man who had enough daring and self-confidence
in addition to that essential quality of sea-sense. From mere common
sailormen these four great corsairs—the two Barbarossas, Dragut and
Ali Basha—rose to the position of autocrats and admirals. Mere robbers
and bandits though they were, yet the very mention of their names sent
a shudder through Christendom. And it was only the repeated and supreme
efforts of the great European powers which could reduce these pirate
kings into such a condition that honest ships could pursue their voyages
with any hope of reaching their destined ports. Surely, in the whole
history of lawlessness, there never were malefactors that prospered for
so long and to such an extent!

We have spoken in this chapter of galleys and galleasses. Before we
close, let us add a few words of explanation to facilitate the reader’s
vision. Bearing in mind the interesting survival of the galley type
throughout Mediterranean warfare, it must not be forgotten that in detail
this type of craft varied in subsequent centuries. There remained,
however, the prevailing fact that she relied primarily on oars, and
that she drew comparatively little water and had but little freeboard
in proportion to the caravels, caracks and ocean-going ships of war and
commerce. The great virtue of the galley consisted in her mobility.
Her greatest defect lay in her lack of sea-keeping qualities. For the
galley’s work was concerned with operations within a limited sphere with
the land not far away; in other words, she was suited for conditions the
exact opposite of that kind of craft which could sail to the West Indies
or go round Cape Horn.

[Illustration: GALLEY SLAVES

The life of a galley slave was one of dreadful hardship. They were
chained five or six to an oar, fed on the scantiest of food, and a
boatswain walked up and down a gangway in the centre wielding his
terrible lash on those who incurred his anger.]

The amazing feature of these galleys was the large number of oarsmen
required; but this was an age when human life was regarded more cheaply
than to-day. Slaves could be had by raiding towns or capturing ships.
The work of pulling at the oar was healthy if terribly hard. A minimum
of food and the stern lash of the boatswain as he walked up and down
the gangway that ran fore-and-aft down the centre of the ship kept the
men at their duty, and their shackles prevented them from deserting. But
when their poor, wearied bodies became weak, they were thrown overboard
before their last breath had left them. The prints, which are still
in existence, show that the number of oarsmen in a sixteenth-century
galley ran into hundreds—two or three hundred of these galley-slaves
would be no rare occurrence in one craft. They retained the beak and
the arrangement of the yards from the time of the Romans. At the stern
sat the commander with his officers. When these craft carried cannon
the armament was placed in the bows. By the sixteenth, or at any rate
the seventeenth, century, the galley had reached her climax, and it was
not thought remarkable that her length should be about 170 feet and her
breadth only about 20 feet. She may be easily studied by the reader on
referring to an accompanying illustration. Whether used by Christian or
corsair, by Maltese knights or Moslem Turks, they were not very different
from the picture which is here presented. With five men to each heavy
oar, with seamen to handle the sails when employed, with soldiers to
fight the ship, she was practically a curious kind of raft or floating
platform. Irrespective of religion or race, it was customary for the
sixteenth-century nations to condemn their prisoners to row chained to
these benches. Thus, for example, when the Spaniards captured Elizabethan
seamen, the latter were thus employed, just as Venetian prisoners were
made to row in Moslem galleys. Convicted criminals were also punished by
this means.

The difference between the old and new was never better seen than in
the late sixteenth century, when the big-bellied man-of-war with sails
and guns were beginning to discard the old boarding tactics. It was
the gun and not the sword on which they were now relying. But the
galley was dependent less on her gunnery than on boarding. It was her
aim to fight not at a distance but at close quarters—to get right close
alongside and then pour her soldiers on to the other ship and obtain
possession. The galeass of the Mediterranean, although the word was
somewhat largely used, signified an attempt to combine the sea-qualities
of the big-bellied ship with the mobility of the galley. Compromises
are, however, but rarely successful, and though the galleass was a much
more potent fighting unit, yet she was less mobile, if a better sea
craft. She began by being practically a big galley with forecastle and
sterncastle and another deck; she ended in being little less clumsy than
the contemporary ship of the line which relied on sails and guns. Anyone
who cares to examine the contemporary pictures of the Spanish galleasses
used by the Armada against England in the reign of Elizabeth can see
this for himself. It is true that even as far north as Amsterdam in the
seventeenth century the galley was employed, and there are many instances
when she fought English ships in the Channel, off Portsmouth and
elsewhere. For a time some lingered on in the British Navy, but they were
totally unsuited for the waters of the North Sea and English Channel, and
gave way to the sail-propelled ships of larger displacement.

CHAPTER VII

PIRACY IN ELIZABETHAN TIMES

But although the Mediterranean was the sphere of the Barbarian corsairs,
yet this sea lawlessness was not confided to that area. The Narrow
Seas were just about as bad as they had been in the Middle Ages. And
Elizabeth, with the determination for which she was famous, took the
matter in hand.

As early as the year 1564 she commanded Sir Peter Carew to fit out an
expedition to clear the seas of any pirates and rovers that haunted the
coasts of Devonshire and Cornwall; yet it was an almost impossible task.
For the men of these parts especially had gotten the sea-fever. Fishing
was less profitable than it might be, but to capture ships instead of
fish was a very paying industry and had just that amount of adventure
which appealed to the Elizabethans. And bear in mind that, as in the
case of the later smugglers, these men had at their backs for financial
support the rich land-owners, who found the investment tempting.

It was because the colonies in the New World were yielding such wondrous
treasure that the English pirates found the Spanish ships so well worth
waiting for and pillaging. Again and again did Philip make demands to
Elizabeth that this nuisance should be stopped, insisting that in no
case should a convicted English pirate be pardoned. He requested that
Her Majesty’s officers in the west of England ports should cease from
allowing these marauders to take stores aboard or even frequent these
harbours. Rewards, he begged, should even be offered for their capture,
and all persons on shore who aided these miscreants should be punished
severely.

It was because of Philip’s complaint, no less than of the complaint of
her own merchants, that the Queen was compelled to adopt severe measures.
She despatched more ships to police the seas, but with what advantage?
Up came a ship bound from Flanders to Spain with a cargo of tapestry,
clocks and various other articles for Philip. The English pirates could
not let such a prize go past, so they stopped the ship and plundered her.
The Queen’s next effort was to cause strict inquiries to be made along
the coast in order to discover the haunts of these Northern corsairs.
Harbour commissioners were appointed, says Lindsay, to inquire and report
on all vessels leaving or entering port, and all landed proprietors who
had encouraged the pirates were threatened with penalties. But it was
an impossible task, as I will explain. First of all, consider the fact
that after centuries of this free sea-roving, no government, no amount of
threats, could possibly transform the character of the English seaman.
If, for instance, to-morrow, Parliament were to make it law forbidding
the North Sea fishermen to proceed in their industry, nothing but shells
from men-of-war would prevent the men putting to sea. Years of occupation
would be too strong to resist.

So it was with the seamen in the Elizabethan age. It began by that hatred
of their French neighbours; it was encouraged by the privileges which the
Cinque Ports enjoyed, though it was in the blood of the English seamen
quite apart from any royal permission. But there was in the time of
Elizabeth still a further difficulty. Those privateers whom the law had
permitted to go forth sea-roving had become too strong to be suppressed.
Privateering strictly consists of a private ship or ships having a
commission to seize or plunder the ships of an enemy; in effect it
amounts to legalised piracy, and any one can realise that in a none too
law-abiding age, such as the sixteenth century, the dividing line between
piracy and privateering was so very fine that it was almost impossible to
say which pillaging was legal and which was unjustifiable. That alone was
sufficient reason for the frequent releases of alleged pirates at this
time.

True, the Crown allowed privateering, though the commissions were limited
only to the attacks on our acknowledged enemies, yet it was futile to
expect that these rude Devonshire seamen would have any respect to legal
_finesse_. To control these men adequately was too much to expect.
French and Spanish and Flemish merchantmen, regardless of nationality,
were alike liable to fall into the English pirates’ hands. Some of the
backers were making quite a handsome income, and who shall say that some
of those fine Elizabethan mansions in our country were not built out of
such illegal proceeds? The Mayor of Dover, for instance, with some of the
leading inhabitants of that port, had captured over 600 prizes from the
French, to say nothing of the number of neutrals which he had pillaged.
This was in the year 1563, and already he had plundered sixty-one Spanish
ships. And there was the valuable trade passing to and from Antwerp and
London, which was a steady source of revenue for the pirates of this
time. You cannot be surprised, then, at that important incident in 1564,
that did so much to enrage the English seamen and help matters forward
to the climax in the form of the Spanish Armada; for what happened?
Philip, seeing how little Elizabeth was doing to put down this series
of attacks on his treasure ships, had, in the year mentioned, suddenly
issued an order arresting every English ship and all the English crews
that happened to be found within his own harbours. It was a drastic
measure, but we can quite understand the impetuous and furious Spaniard
acting on this wise.

During Elizabeth’s reign there were of course some pirates who had the
bad fortune to be arrested. One little batch suspected included a Captain
Heidon, Richard Deigle and a man named Corbet. Included in the same gang
were Robert Hitchins, Philip Readhead, Roger Shaster and others. The
first three mentioned succeeded in fleeing away beyond capture, but the
remainder admitted their guilt. Hitchins was a man about fifty years old
and a native of Devonshire, but both he and his companions protested that
they had been deceived by Heidon and Deigle; they had undertaken a voyage
to Rochelle presumably in a merchant ship, whereas the trip turned out to
be nothing else than a piratical expedition.

Their version of the incident was that in June 1564 they captured a
Flemish ship, and to her were transferred thirteen Scots who were forming
part of this supposedly merchant ship. The Flemish ship with the Scots on
board now sailed away, as there was some disagreement with the rest of
the party. They proceeded to Ireland, where their skipper joined them,
and they also committed robberies on the coast of Spain. Having captured
a ship with a cargo of wine they proceeded to that extreme south-west
corner of Ireland which, even in this twentieth century, is still a wild,
lonely spot and rarely visited by any craft excepting the British Navy,
an occasional cable-laying ship and sometimes a coaster or two. Berehaven
is a mighty fjord which goes out of Bantry Bay. On the one side rise
high, rocky hills; on the other lies the island of Bere. It is a safe,
clear anchorage and a wild, inaccessible spot.

Here the captured ship was taken and the wines sold. An arrangement was
made with the Lord O’Sullivan by which the pirates could rely on his
assistance. For Corbet with one ship, and a man named Lusingham, who
had charge of another ship, were prevented by O’Sullivan from falling
into the hands of Elizabeth’s ships that had been sent to capture them.
Lusingham, however, had been slain by “a piece of ordnance,” as he was
in the act of waving his cap towards the Queen’s ships at Berehaven, but
Corbet was yet alive. It was alleged that Heidon and Corbet had agreed
jointly to fit out the _John of Sandwich_, giving her all the necessary
guns with the hope of being able to capture a good ship wherewith to
provide Corbet. But whilst in the English Channel a storm had sprung up
and the ship had sprung a leak. They were therefore forced into Alderney,
where the vessel became a wreck, and Heidon, Corbet, Deigle, as well as
fourteen others, made their escape in a small pinnace.

It was discovered that Robert Hitchins had been all his life given to
piracy, so, after having been arrested in the Channel Isles, he was
executed at low-water mark near St. Martin’s Point, Guernsey, and there
his body was left in chains as a warning to others. The rest of the
prisoners were afterwards ordered by Elizabeth to be set free, “after
a good and sharp admonition to beware hereafter to fall again into the
damage of our laws.” They were bidden to return to their native places
and to get their living by honest labour. It is a proof that the Crown
really valued her seamen by an interesting proclamation that was made
in 1572 when there was a likeliness of war. The Queen went so far as
to promise pardon for all piracies hitherto committed by any mariners
who should now put their ships into her naval service, and we must not
forget that, at a later date, the first tidings of the Armada’s advent
were brought into Plymouth by a patriotic English pirate named Fleming.
“Fleming,” wrote John Smith, the great Elizabethan traveller and founder
of the English colony of Virginia, “was as expert and as much sought
for” as any other pirates of the Queen’s reign, “yet such a friend to
his Country, that discovering the Spanish Armado, he voluntarily came
to Plymouth, yeelded himselfe freely to my Lord Admirall, and gave him
notice of the Spaniards comming; which good warning came so happily and
unexpectedly, that he had his pardon, and a good reward.”

“As in all lands,” writes this delightful Elizabethan, “where there are
many people, there are some theeves, so in all seas much frequented,
there are some pirates; the most ancient within the memory of threescore
yeares was one Callis, who most refreshed himselfe upon the Coast of
Wales; Clinton and Pursser his companions, who grew famous, till Queene
Elizabeth of blessed memory, hanged them at Wapping.” Now this John
Callis or Calles, after his arrest, wrote a letter of repentance to
Walsyngham saying: “I bewail my former wicked life, and beseech God and
Her Majesty to forgive me. If she will spare my life and use me in her
service by sea, with those she can trust best, either to clear the coasts
of other wicked pirates or otherwise, as I know their haunts, roads,
creeks, and maintainers so well, I can do more therein than if she sent
ships abroad and spent £20,000.”

Thinking thereby to obtain pardon, Calles accordingly forwarded
particulars of his fellow pirates, their “maintainers and victuallers
of me and my companies.” This list contained the names and addresses of
the purchasers and receivers of goods which had been pillaged from two
Portuguese, one French, a Spanish and a Scotch ship, which Calles and a
Captain Sturges of Rochelle had pirated. If he were given his liberty,
this loquacious corsair further promised that he would also bring in a
Danish ship, which he had pirated. He promised also to warn Walsyngham to
take care that Sulivan Bere of Berehaven “does not practise any treason”
towards Her Majesty there, as he alleged that Sulivan had told Calles in
the former’s castle at Berehaven that James Fitzmorris and a number of
Frenchmen were determined to land there if they could obtain pilots to
guide them thither. The old pirate further alleged that they had tried
to persuade himself to join them and become their guide, promising him
“large gifts.” “But I would not join any rebel of Her Majesty,” he wrote
grandiloquently, “hoping her mercy in time to come.”

Last March, he went on, while he was riding at anchor at Torbay, he met a
Frenchman, commanded by Captain Molloner, who came aboard Calles’s ship
and sought information regarding the Irish coast and the best harbours.
Calles informed him the best were Cork and Kinsale. His inquirers then
asked whether Berehaven and Dingell were not good places where to land.
“They told me if I would go over with them to France, I need not fear the
Queen for any offence I had done.” The French King would pardon him for
anything Calles had done against His Majesty’s subjects, and would give
him 3000 crowns to become his subject and be sworn his man, as well as
a yearly fee during life. “I asked him why his master wanted to use me,
and he said his master shortly meant to do some service on the coast of
Ireland, and wanted pilots.” Calles protested that he had declined this
invitation, to which the other man was reported to have replied that he
would never have such a chance of preferment offered him in England. But
though this made a very fine yarn, the authorities were too well aware of
Calles’s past history to give it too much credence.

“The misery of a Pirate (although many are as sufficient Seamen as any)
yet in regard of his superfluity,” wrote the founder of Virginia, “you
shall finde it such, that any wise man would rather live amongst wilde
beasts than them: therefore let all unadvised persons take heed, how they
entertaine that quality: and I could wish Merchants, Gentlemen, and all
setters forth of ships, not to bee sparing of a competent pay, nor true
payment, for neither Souldiers nor Seamen can live without meanes, but
necessity will force them to steale: and when they are once entered into
that trade, they are hardly reclaimed.”

Poverty as well as the love of adventure and the lust for gain had
certainly to be reckoned among the incentives to this life. So steadily
had the evil grown that on 7th August 1579, Yorke complained to Lord
Burghley that the sea had never been so full of pirates, and a Plymouth
ship which had set out from St. Malo bound for Dartmouth had been robbed
and chased on to the rocks. None the less, the “persons of credit” who
had been appointed in every haven, creek or other landing-place round the
coast, in order to deal with the evil, were doing their best, and three
notable pirates had some time before been arrested and placed in York
Castle together with other pirates.

But the practice of piracy, as we have seen, was the peculiar failing
of no country exclusively, though in certain parts of the world and in
certain centuries pirates were more prevalent than elsewhere. The very
men who in the English Channel might have attained disgrace and wealth as
sea-robbers might, also, when he went into the Mediterranean, be himself
pillaged by those Barbarian corsairs of whom we spoke just now. Many an
exciting brush did the mariners of England encounter with these men, and
many were the sad tales which reached England of the cruelties of these
Moslem tyrants. An interesting account of such an adventure is related by
Master Roger Bodenham. The incident really happened seven years before
Elizabeth came to the throne, but it may not be out of place here to deal
with it.

After having set forth from Gravesend in the “great barke _Aucher_” bound
for the islands of Candia and Chio in the Levant, the ship arrived at
Messina in Sicily. But it was made known that a good many Moslem galleys
were in the Levant and the rest of the voyage would be more than risky.
The _Aucher’s_ crew got to know of this, so that Bodenham was not likely
to get farther on his way and deliver his cargo at Chio. “Then,” he
writes, “I had no small businesse to cause my mariners to venture with
the ship in such a manifest danger. Neverthelesse I wan them to goe with
me, except three which I set on land.” But these presently begged to
come aboard again and were taken, and the ship got under way. A Greek
pilot was taken on board, and when off Chio three Turkish pirates were
suddenly espied. These were giving chase to a number of small boats
which were sailing rigged with a lateen-sail. It happened that in one
of the latter was the son of the pilot, and at this Greek’s request
Bodenham steered towards the Turks and caused the _Aucher’s_ gunner to
fire a demi-culverin at the chaser that was just about to board one of
the boats. This was such a good shot that the Turk dropped astern.
Presently all the little boats came and begged that they might be allowed
to hang on to the _Aucher’s_ stern till daylight. After clearing from
Chio, Bodenham took his ship to Candia and Messina. But whilst on the way
thither and in the very waters where the battle of Lepanto was presently
to be fought, he found some of the Turkish galleots pirating some
Venetian ships laden with muscatels, and, good Samaritan that he was,
Bodenham succeeded in driving off the Moslem aggressors and rescuing the
merchantmen. “I rescued them,” he writes briefly, “and had but a barrell
of wine for my powder and shot.”

CHAPTER VIII

ELIZABETHAN SEAMEN AND TURKISH PIRATES

But a much more adventurous voyage was that of a ship called _The Three
Half Moones_, which, with a crew of thirty-eight men and well found
in arms—“the better to encounter their enemies withall”—set out from
Portsmouth in the year 1563.

In some ways the story reads like mere romance, but it has been so
thoroughly well-vouched for that there is not a particle of suspicion
connected with it. Having set forth bound for the south of Spain they
arrived near the Straits of Gibraltar, when they found themselves
surrounded by eight Turkish galleys. (It should be mentioned that the