Great Pirate Stories.

by Various.

FOREWORD

Piracy embodies the romance of the sea at its highest expression. It is a sad but inevitable commentary on our civilization, that, so far as the sea is concerned, it has developed from its infancy down to a century or so ago, under one phase or another of piracy. If men were savages on land they were doubly so at sea, and all the years of maritime adventure--years that added to the map of the world till there was little left to discover--could not wholly eradicate the piratical germ.

It went out gradually with the settlement and ordering of the far-flung British colonies. Great Britain, foremost of sea powers, must be credited with doing more both directly and indirectly for the abolition of crime and disorder on the high seas than any other force. But the conquest was not complete till the advent of steam which chased the sea-rover into the farthest corners of his domain. It is said that he survives even today in certain spots in the Chinese waters,--but he is certainly an innocuous relic. A pirate of any sort would be as great a curiosity today if he could be caught and exhibited as a fabulous monster.

The fact remains and will always persist that in the lore of the sea he is far and away the most picturesque figure,--and the more genuine and gross his career, the higher degree of interest does he inspire.

There may be a certain human perversity in this, for the pirate was unquestionably a bad man--at his best, or worst--considering his surroundings and conditions,--undoubtedly the worst man that ever lived.

There is little to soften the dark yet glowing picture of his exploits.

But again, it must be remembered, that not only does the note of distance subdue, and even lend a certain enchantment to the scene, but the effect of contrast between our peaceful times and his own contributes much to deepen our interest in him. Perhaps it is this latter, added to that deathless spark in the human breast that glows at the tale of adventure, which makes him the kind of hero of romance that he is today.

He is undeniably a redoubtable historical figure. It is a curious fact that the commerce of the seas was cradled in the lap of buccaneering.

The constant danger of the deeps in this form only made hardier mariners out of the merchant-adventurers, actually stimulating and strengthening maritime enterprise.

Buccaneering--which is only a politer term for piracy--thus became the high romance of the seas during the great centuries of maritime adventure. It went hand in hand with discovery,--they were in fact almost inseparable. Most of the mighty mariners from the days of Leif the Discoverer, through those of the redoubtable Sir Francis Drake down to our own Paul Jones, answer to the roll-call.

It was a bold hardy world--this of ours--up to the advent of our giant-servant, Steam,--every foot of which was won by fierce conquest of one sort or another. Out of this past the pirate emerges as a romantic, even at times heroic, figure. This final niche, despite his crimes, cannot altogether be denied him. A hero he is and will remain so long as tales of the sea are told. So, have at him, in these pages!

JOSEPH LEWIS FRENCH.

GREAT PIRATE STORIES

THE PICCAROON[1]

MICHAEL SCOTT

"Ours the wild life in tumult still to range."--_The Corsair._

We returned to Carthagena, to be at hand should any opportunity occur for Jamaica, and were lounging about one forenoon on the fortifications, looking with sickening hearts out to seaward, when a voice struck up the following negro ditty close to us:--

"Fader was a Corramantee, Moder was a Mingo, Black picaniny buccra wantee, So dem sell a me, Peter, by jingo.

Jiggery, jiggery, jiggery."

"Well sung, Ma.s.sa Bungo!" exclaimed Mr. Splinter; "where do you hail from, my hearty?"

"Hillo! Bungo, indeed! free and easy dat, anyhow. Who you yousef, eh?"

"Why, Peter," continued the lieutenant, "don't you know me?"

"Cannot say dat I do," rejoined the negro, very gravely, without lifting his head, as he sat mending his jacket in one of the embrasures near the water-gate of the a.r.s.enal--"Hab not de honour of your acquaintance, sir."

He then resumed his scream, for song it could not be called:--

"Mammy Sally's daughter Lose him shoe in an old canoe Dat lay half full of water, And den she knew not what to do.

Jiggery, jig----"

"Confound your jiggery, jiggery, sir! But I know you well enough, my man; and you can scarcely have forgotten Lieutenant Splinter of the Torch, one would think?"

However, it was clear that the poor fellow really had not known us; for the name so startled him, that, in his hurry to unlace his legs from under him, as he sat tailor-fashion, he fairly capsized out of his perch, and toppled down on his nose--a feature, fortunately, so flattened by the hand of nature, that I question if it could have been rendered more obtuse had he fallen out of the maintop on a timber-head, or a marine officer's.

"Eh!--no--yes, him sure enough; and who is de picaniny hofficer--Oh! I see, Ma.s.sa Tom Cringle? Garamighty, gentlemen, where have you drop from?

Where is de old Torch? Many a time hab I, Peter Mangrove, pilot to Him Britannic Majesty squadron, taken de old brig in and through amongst de keys at Port Royal!"

"Ay, and how often did you scour her copper against the coral reefs, Peter?"

His Majesty's pilot gave a knowing look, and laid his hand on his breast--"No more of dat if you love me, ma.s.sa."

"Well, well, it don't signify now, my boy; she will never give you that trouble again--foundered--all hands lost, Peter, but the two you see before you."

"Werry sorry, Ma.s.sa Plinter, werry sorry--What! de black cook's-mate and all?--But misfortune can't be help. Stop till I put up my needle, and I will take a turn wid you." Here he drew himself up with a great deal of absurd gravity. "Proper dat British hofficer in distress should a.s.sist one anoder--we shall consult togeder.--How can I serve you?"

"Why, Peter, if you could help us to a pa.s.sage to Port Royal, it would be serving us most essentially. When we used to be lying there a week seldom pa.s.sed without one of the squadron arriving from this; but here have we been for more than a month without a single pennant belonging to the station having looked in: our money is running short, and if we are to hold on in Carthagena for another six weeks, we shall not have a shot left in the locker--not a copper to tinkle on a tombstone."

The negro looked steadfastly at us, then carefully around. There was no one near.

"You see, Ma.s.sa Plinter, I am desirable to serve you, for one little reason of my own; but, beside dat, it is good for me at present to make some friend wid de hofficer of de squadron, being as how dat I am absent widout leave."

"Oh, I perceive--a large R against your name in the master-attendant's books, eh?"

"You have hit it, sir, werry close; besides, I long mosh to return to my poor wife, Nancy Cator, dat I leave, wagabone dat I is, just about to be confine."

I could not resist putting in my oar.

"I saw Nancy just before we sailed, Peter--fine child that; not quite so black as you, though."

"Oh, ma.s.sa," said s...o...b..ll, grinning, and showing his white teeth, "you know I am soch a terrible black fellow--But you are a leetle out at present, ma.s.sa--I meant, about to be confine in de work-house for stealing de admiral's Muscovy ducks;" and he laughed loud and long.--"However, if you will promise dat you will stand my friends, I will put you in de way of getting a shove across to de east end of Jamaica; and I will go wid you too, for company."

"Thank you," rejoined Mr. Splinter; "but how do you mean to manage this?

There is no Kingston trader here at present, and you don't mean to make a start of it in an open boat, do you?"

"No, sir, I don't; but in de first place--as you are a gentleman, will you try and get me off when we get to Jamaica? Secondly, will you promise dat you will not seek to know more of de vessel you may go in, nor of her crew, than dey are willing to tell you, provided you are landed safe?"

"Why, Peter, I scarcely think you would deceive us, for you know I saved your bacon in that awkward affair, when through drunkenness you plumped the Torch ash.o.r.e, so----"

"Forget dat, sir--forget dat! Never shall poor black pilot forget how you saved him from being seized up, when de gratings, boatswain's mates, and all, were ready at de gangway--never shall poor black rascal forget dat."

"Indeed, I do not think you would wittingly betray us into trouble, Peter; and as I guess you mean one of the forced traders, we will venture in her, rather than kick about here any longer, and pay a moderate sum for our pa.s.sage."

"Den wait here five minute"--and so saying, he slipped down through the embrasure into a canoe that lay beneath, and in a trice we saw him jump on board of a long low nondescript kind of craft that lay moored within pistol-shot of the walls.