Chapter 3 THE LAST OF THE PIRATES

"You know that a great many of the most famous pirates were really rather small potatoes. Take Captain Kidd, for instance. Why, they are still disputing whether he was a pirate or not. If he was one, he didn't take to it until late in life, and he'd been a perfectly respectable sailor up to that time. They sent him out to catch pirates, and according to one story he turned pirate himself."

"Well, they hung him for something," said Captain Bannister.

"Yes, sir. They did that because they said he was a pirate, and that he murdered his mate. He said his mate mutinied, and that he was justified in killing him. There were a lot of others who went out to catch pirates, but ended by turning pirates themselves. Then there were some who just carried on pirating as a kind of branch business, when other things were dull. What respect can you have for that kind of a pirate? Some of 'em were wreckers part of the time, and pirates the other part."

"What are wreckers?" I asked.

"Why, they," explained Mr. Daddles, "made a living by what they could steal from wrecks. Either they stayed on dangerous shores and waited for a wreck, or they would deceive sailors by building false beacons at night so as to toll the ships upon the rocks. That was a pretty mean sort of thing! They couldn't pick out a rich galleon, all full of gold ingots, and then fight for the treasure, like pirates and gentlemen! No; they had to take whatever came along, and, like as not, all they would get would be a miserable fishing-shack, loaded with hake and halibut! A real, simon-pure pirate would have refused to shake hands with a low- down wrecker, and it would have served him right, too.

"But Black Pedro was the very top-notcher of them all, the finest flower of piracy. He didn't go pirating just during the summer months, when his other business was slack. And he would have died before he'd have been a wrecker. It was a profession, with him. And an inherited one, too. He was the third of the name. He started in as cabin boy on the ship of his grand-father,-old Black Pedro the First. The old man, the grand-father, was captured once by an Admiral of the English Navy, and taken to Tyburn to be hanged. You see he was such a prominent pirate that they wouldn't just string him up to the yard arm, like a common buccaneer. He was tried with the greatest ceremony, and sentenced to death by the Lord Chief Justice himself. That was a great feather in his cap. But when they tried to hang him the crowd around the gallows liked him so well that they started a riot, and in the excitement he got away, and a year later he was back on the Spanish Main, pirating again, with all of his old crew who were still alive,- about eight of 'em.

"He had to get a new ship, for his old one-the 'Panther,'-had been sunk in the fight with the English Admiral. So he had one built for him by a firm in San Domingo, who made a specialty of pirate ships. It was the very latest thing in that kind of vessel, strong, swift, heavily armed, and luxuriously furnished. The crew had a social hall for holding their revels and the cabins were fit for a king. Even The Plank was solid mahogany."

"What plank?" This from Ed Mason.

"WHAT plank? Did you ever hear such a question? I shouldn't think you'd ever been to school. Why, THE PLANK,-the one that the pirates' victims have to walk. Didn't you ever hear of walking the plank?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, old Black Pedro the First named his new ship 'The Angel of Death' and he had a picture of the Angel embroidered in black velvet on his foresail. He was a proud man, I tell you, when he sailed out of San Domingo on his first voyage. He had a black velvet suit-made out of some that was left over from the picture of the Angel-and a red sash around his waist, in the proper style. This was stuck full of cutlasses and flint-lock pistols,- four cutlasses and eight pistols. And he had two or three more pistols in each boot. He had a fierce, black beard, and the most ferocious face you can imagine. He scared some people to death by just GLARING at them. And his own son was first mate,-he was almost as ferocious as old Pedro the First. And HIS son-the grandson, that is, of Pedro the First-was cabin boy. It was the boy's first voyage. Before they had been out a week they fell in with 'El Espiritu Santo,' a private galleon belonging to the King of Spain. It was loaded with bars of solid gold, and fifteen chests of gold doubloons. Black Pedro ordered the Jolly Roger hoisted at all three mast-heads, and went down to his cabin and stuck six more pistols in his boots. Then the two ships opened fire on each other with their big guns, and fought for about half an hour. At the end of that time, the first mate came to the captain and said:

"'Father, I think it's about time to board her.'

"'Are the scuppers running with blood yet?'

"Pedro the Second went and inspected the scuppers.

"'No,' he said, 'not yet.'

"'Continue firing till they are,' ordered the Captain.

"After about ten minutes more, the mate reported the scuppers running with blood in the regular manner. Then, and not till then, did old Pedro give orders to board. That was why he was the prince of pirates,-it was his attention to details, to the little things that make up the difference between a real pirate and a mere sea- thief. You can see what an inheritance the third Pedro had,-how he was brought up to reverence the best traditions of his calling.

"They laid the 'Angel' alongside the Spanish galleon, and grappled the two vessels together. Old Pedro led the boarding party, and when they got to the poop-deck of the galleon they found the Spanish captain, the first mate, and the cabin-boy waiting for them with cutlasses. The three Pedros, father, son, and grandson, engaged them according to rank, and finished them off at the same moment. The rest of the Spanish crew had been subdued in the meantime, and it only remained to make them walk the plank, then transfer the treasure to 'The Angel of Death,' and sail away, leaving 'El Espiritu Santo' on fire, so she would blow up when the fire reached her powder magazine.

"When the officers were killed, and the crew and passengers of the galleon were lined up on deck, awaiting their fate, old Pedro strode down from the poop-deck, wiping his cutlass.

"'Now,' he said, knowing that all eyes were on him, 'we'll feed 'em to the sharks!'

"And he roared: 'Fetch out The Plank!'

"There was a pause. No one moved.

"'Blood and Bones!' roared old Pedro, 'don't you hear me? Fetch out The Plank!'

"At this the bo's'n, Aaron Halyard, stepped forward.

"'Oh there you are, are you, Halyard?' bellowed the pirate chief, 'well, why don't you fetch out The Plank? It's your duty,-you're in charge of it.'

"The bo's'n pulled at his forelock, and bowed to his commander.

"'Beggin' yer pardin, Cap'n,' said he, 'kin I have a word with yer private-like? Lemme whisper in yer ear, if I may make so bold-'

"'No whispering,' returned his chief, 'no whispering here. What's the matter with you anyway? And why don't you fetch out The Plank?'"

'"Well, Cap'n,' said the bo's'n, rubbing his hands together, nervously, 'you know ME. I've been with you ever since you begun. I was with you in the days of the old 'Panther,' an'-' "'Cut it short!' shouted Pedro.

"'Well, Cap'n,' the bo's'n repeated, with his knees knocking together, 'I never was so mortified in all my life-specially in front of all the gentry here,' pointing his thumb toward the Spanish prisoners, 'but the fact is, Cap'n, I've clean forgot where I put The Plank!'

"'Forgot!' screamed old Pedro.

"'Yessir, plumb forgot. I jus' can't remember for the life of me, where I put her. I know I brought her aboard myself, an' I'd a- taken my affydavy I put her under my bunk, but when I looked for her, when we fust sighted this here galleon, strike me foolish if she was there at all! I asked the cook about it. He'll tell yer so hisself-an' he-'

"'Cut it short!' Pedro roared again.

"He glared around him-did old Pedro-like an infuriated lion. Once he raised his cutlass and seemed about to sweep off the bo's'n's head with it. At last he said in a choked voice-

"'Well, for goodness' sake, think! Can't you remember what you did with it?'

"Aaron shook his head dumbly. Then as he stood there, quaking, a sudden gleam of intelligence came into his eye.

"'That's it!' he said,'that's it. The cook wanted an ironin' board, he said, and he borrowed it-'

"He broke off, and scrambled hastily over the side of 'The Angel of Death.' Then he rushed below, and in a few minutes came back, nervously tearing off some sheets of white cloth, which surrounded the handsome, hand-carved, mahogany Plank.

"'Lucky for you!' bellowed Pedro, 'now put her in place, boys!'

"His men put her in place and the Spanish crew had the pleasure of starting the long procession of victims who were to go overboard by that route in the years to come.

"Such was the first fight of 'The Angel of Death' and just such success (excepting, of course, the hitch about The Plank) rewarded the efforts of old Pedro for over twenty years. Up and down the Spanish Main he sailed, and the sight of that foresail, with its terrible picture of the Black Angel, struck terror to the heart of every man afloat. Even men-of-war fought shy of the three Pedros. Once 'The Angel of Death' rounded the Cape of Good Hope and attacked a treasure fleet on its way back from the Indies. On that occasion it captured so many chests of gold doubloons that they quite blocked up the social hall, where the crew used to hold their revels, and they had to revel on deck, until 'The Angel of Death' got back to Rum Island, where they buried their treasure.

"Finally, old Pedro the First was taken sick. There was a fight, early one morning when the air was very damp, between the 'Angel' and a rich merchantman. The pirate captain got rather over-heated, during his usual duel with the captain of the merchantman, and then he foolishly sat down in a draft while he ate his breakfast. He had a bad attack of rheumatism, and it made it very hard for him to scramble over the bulwarks when he led a boarding party to the enemy's decks. The next time they put in at Rum Island the old man took his bed, dolefully predicting that his end was near.

"'Just at this season, when the plate-ships are all sailing for Spain,' he grumbled, 'I don't see what I've done to be put upon this way.'

"He got worse and worse, however, and the best doctors shook their heads over his case. He called in his son and grandson, and old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n,-the same one who came so near to botching everything in the first fight. He said good-bye to them all, and gave some good advice to the youngest Pedro,-who was a fine, promising boy, by this time. Then he passed away, and they gave him the biggest funeral that had ever been seen on Rum Island.

"Of course, Black Pedro the Second took up the work right where the old pirate had left it. It was the season when the galleons were starting for Spain, loaded down with gold, and as soon as the funeral was over, the 'Angel' sailed on her regular autumn trip. Some of the Spanish captains had heard of the death of old Pedro, and so they weren't quite as cautious as they should have been. They found out their mistake very quick, however, and the 'Angel' had a most profitable voyage. Gold and silver from the mines of Peru, diamonds from Brazil, rubies and other kinds of precious stones,-oh, I tell you, the pirates sailed back to Rum Island that winter, chuckling with glee at the thought of the wealth they had won. They had with them the Governor General of the Antilles, a Spanish grandee of the very highest kind. They held him for ransom, and made the King of Spain pay fifty thousand dollars to get him back. 'The Angel of Death' got to be such a scourge of the seas that half a dozen men-of-war were sent out by England, Spain and Portugal to try to catch her. But she was the fleetest ship on the ocean, and she always gave them the slip. Once she got caught in a tight place, between Rum Island and Alligator Key. The pursuer was a Portuguese man-of-war, and the pirate vessel turned and fought so fiercely that the enemy was put to flight.

"So it went on for many years. The boy, Pedro, had worked his way up, by sheer merit-no favoritism-until he was now first mate. Then it came his father's turn to pass on, as the first Pedro had passed. The 'Angel' had put in at Alligator Key, for a few weeks one summer, and while they were there some friend presented the captain with a water-melon. He ate it at supper that night, and as it was unripe, it disagreed with him. Several glasses of ice- water, which he drank with the melon, had the effect of making him still worse. Next morning another of the Pedros was gone, and Pedro the Third was now captain of 'The Angel of Death' and leader of the pirate crew."

Mr. Daddles paused in his story and came and sat down with Ed and me in the cock-pit.

"When 'The Angel of Death' sailed on her next trip, she was probably the most dangerous pirate ship that was ever afloat. You see they were all of them experienced men. They had years of practice behind them. They knew their ship, and they knew the ocean. There wasn't a shoal or a passage, an inlet or a creek from one end of the Spanish Main to the other that they didn't know. Black Pedro spread terror into far corners of the ocean, where neither his father nor grand-father had ever been heard of. They would have been proud indeed, if they could have seen their son. He wore a black velvet suit, with a red sash, just like his grand- father before him. That had become the official costume in the family. He had made no change in it, except to add one or two more pistols in the sash.

"One autumn, after Black Pedro the Third had been captain for about a dozen or fifteen years, 'The Angel of Death' had a terrible fight with the biggest galleon she had ever tackled,- 'The Santa Maria Sanctissima,' a ship so huge that she towered far above the pirate vessel. While the great guns were roaring, and the cannon-balls flying, Black Pedro stood amid the smoke, in his velvet suit, his black beard bristling with rage, and his face bearing an expression ten times more ferocious than his grand- father's at its worst. He noted carefully the precise moment when the scuppers were running with blood, and then gave the signal for boarding. 'The Santa Maria Sanctissima' was so high that they had to use scaling-ladders to reach her deck, but the pirates soon swarmed on board, the captain was slain by Black Pedro, the rest of the crew walked The Plank, and 'The Angel of Death' sailed back to Rum Island with her booty.

"It was the richest she had ever captured. 'The Santa Maria Sanctissima' carried an enormous cargo of gold, intended for a great castle in Spain, and it took four days to unload the treasure at the pirates' lair, and six more days to bury it in the ground. Think how they felt when the last shovelful of earth was put in, how the sense of work well done filled their breasts with satisfaction! But on that very day disaster of the most terrible kind was hanging over them, and less than twenty-four hours lay between them and dire calamity.

"Early in the evening, on the day after they had buried the last gold bar, Black Pedro sat on the veranda of his cottage, smoking his pipe. This cottage was his regular dwelling place, while he was at Rum Island. From the veranda he could look out over the bay, where 'The Angel of Death' lay at anchor. The men's quarters were down the hill, near the beach.

"Black Pedro noticed that the men seemed unusually quiet that night. He did not hear the customary yells and cries. Suddenly he was surprised to see old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n, come over the top of the hill, leaning on his cane. Behind him walked the entire crew of the 'Angel,' two by two. They were heading toward their Captain's cottage. This was not only astonishing, but it was strictly against the rules, as all interviews with the Captain, while on shore, were limited to the hours from 4 to 6 P. M. It was now 7.30. Black Pedro leaped to his feet in surprise. The men formed a line in front of the cottage-thirty-four of them-while old Aaron tottered forward.

"'Cap'n,' he said, 'we'd like to have a word with you.'

"'Well,' replied Black Pedro, 'what do you want?'

"'Cap'n, it's this way. You know ME. I've been your bo's'n an' yer father's an' yer grand-father's afore HIM, ever since the 'Angel' was built, an' afore that, too. Why, some on us can remember way back to the days of the 'Panther,' when you wa'n't knee-high to a cutlash. Me, an' Mike the Shark, here, an' Sandy Buggins, an' Roarin' Pete, an' some on us has stuck to the 'Angel' since the day she was built. There aint any on us but has seen more'n twenty years sarvice with you or yer father. Now some on us got talkin' over things today, and talkin' 'bout the big haul o' treasure we made last v'y'ge from that there 'Santa Maria.' An', o' course, big haul as it was, it aint nothin' at all to what's buried right here on this island. Why, all the loot that we've taken for sixty- five year is in the ground within half a mile of where we stand- all on it, way back to what we took outer that there 'Spirito Santo."

"And old Halyard paused, and blushed a little, as he remembered the embarrassing incident of that day.

"'Well,' said the Captain, 'go on.'" '"Well, sir, all on a suddent like, it come over us: what good is that there plunder a-doin' of?'

"'What good?' asked Black Pedro.

"'Yessir, what good? There's all that there gold an' silver, an' all them jooels an' preshis stones an' all them fine clo'es an' what not, an' what good is it all a-doin' of, a-buried in the ground? The book-keeper here, Mike the Shark, was a-reckonin' up this morning, an' a-addin' this last lot o' gold, an' he tells us that 'cordin' to the 'greement the share of ev'ry man jack on us reckons up to a powerful big figger.'

"The book-keeper stepped forward. 'For each man,' said he, 'the precise sum to date is nine hundred and sixty-six thousand, seven hundred and forty-three dollars, and twenty-two cents.'

"'An' all hard-earned money, too,' said old Aaron; 'we've been a- sailin,' an' a-fightin', an' a-shootin' folks, an a-stabbin' on 'em, an' a-slittin' of their wind-pipes, an' a-walkin' 'em on The Plank, for sixty-five year come the sixteenth o' next August.'

"'Well, what do you want?' asked Black Pedro again. His voice was low, but terrible.

"'Why,' said the bo's'n, 'we'd like some of our share of the money, if it's all the same to you.'

"'And when you get it,' continued the pirate chief, 'what do you propose to do with it?'

"'Why, spend some on it, an' buy some o' the good things o' life. Look at us. Like a lot of scare-crows, we be. In rags, ev'ry one on us, 'cept you,-an' your black velvet suit is lookin' a leetle mite rusty, if you'll 'scuse an ol' sailor-man, for speakin' right out. An' we'd like somethin' good to eat, an' somethin' good to drink. Look at me: risin' eighty-six year, I be, an' aint never tasted nothin' all my life 'cept salt-hoss, an' ship-bread, an' rum; never slep' nowheres 'cept in a hammock, an' had to turn out on deck an' stand watch in all kinds of weather. An' wuth today nine hundred an' sixty-six thousand, seven hundred an' forty-three dollars, an' thirty-two cents.'

"'Twenty-two cents,' corrected the bookkeeper.'

"'Twenty-two cents,' said Aaron. 'An' what good does it do me? Nothin' 't all. What can I buy with it, here on this here island? Nothin'. Here I am-an' here we all be-scorched an' burnt by the sun, and bit by these here scorpions, an' other varmints, an' dressed in rags an' tatters, an' all the while, all that loot of our'n lyin' there idle in the ground.'

"At this moment Black Pedro leaped four feet into the air, and gave a bellow like an infuriated tiger.

"'What?' he yelled, 'what? you dogs! you scoundrels! you miserable, low-down ruffians you! Oh, that I should have lived to see this day! Thankful am I that my father and grand-father are safe in their graves! This would have broken their hearts. Why, you horrible villains,-do you mean to tell me that you have been doing all this pirating for money?'

"Aaron Halyard scraped his feet in the sand, and shuffled about uneasily.

"'Beggin' yer pardin', Cap'n, but what in Sancho HAVE we been doin' of it for, else?'

"Black Pedro gave a moan, and then another bellow of rage.

"'Out of my sight, you miserable, sordid scoundrels,-out of my sight! What? You defy me, do you? This is mutiny! Take that! And that!'

"He snatched two pistols from his sash and commenced firing, right and left. The first shot hit Mike the Shark and doubled up the book-keeper like a jack-knife, and the second one did the same for Sandy Buggins.

"'Hold hard, Cap'n!' cried the old bo's'n, 'p'r'aps you'll tell us what all this pirating WAS for, if it wa'n't for money.'

"'It was for the joy of pirating, you old rascal, as you ought to know. It was for the pure love of the thing. And to think that all these years I have been leading a base gang of money-getters!'

"And he grabbed another couple of pistols out of his boots, and began firing once more. At this, the pirates lost their patience. They gave a deep roar, like a herd of angry buffalo, and closed in on their Captain. He jumped back, and continued to fire. They swarmed around him, and in a few minutes that group of pirates, who had always lived together like brothers, had changed into a blood-thirsty mob. Knives flashed and pistols cracked. Some of them hit each other in their excitement, and that made them so angry that they turned and fought amongst themselves. In the meantime, the Captain was firing his pistols and slashing with his cutlasses, and making terrible havoc amongst his followers. In ten minutes all was over. Of that proud band of pirates, once the terror of the Spanish Main, only two men were left alive. These were Black Pedro himself, slightly wounded in the leg, but still able to walk, and old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n. Aaron was running at top speed toward the beach, trying to get to a small boat. A little way behind him came the Captain.

"'Don't you tech me! don't you tech me!' screamed old Halyard.

"Black Pedro stopped and took careful aim, with the last of his fourteen pistols. He pulled the trigger, but there was no report. Something had gone wrong with the priming. The bo's'n reached the boat, shoved off, and started to row for the ship. There was no other boat, and Pedro could only watch him. The old man rowed to 'The Angel of Death,' climbed aboard, and commenced, with the help of the boy, who had been left there, to get up the foresail. Then they hoisted the anchor, and the 'Angel' moved slowly out of the harbor. Black Pedro sat down on the beach, and watched it fade from sight. When night fell 'The Angel of Death' was only a speck on the horizon. Then the pirate chief returned to his cottage.

"On the following day a dreadful storm arose. Black Pedro knew that no ship, manned only by an aged bo's'n and a cabin-boy, could live through such a tempest. A few days later his worst fears were realized, for by the wreckage that was washed ashore, he knew that 'The Angel of Death' had gone to pieces in the storm. When The Plank itself, worn smooth on its upper side by the hundreds of feet that had passed over it, was tossed upon the shores of Rum Island, the pirate sat down on the sand and sobbed aloud. He knew that old Halyard and the cabin-boy must have perished, and the noblest crew of buccaneers on whom the sun had ever shone, were forever disbanded, and that he, their chief, was now the last of the pirates, alone and deserted on an undiscovered and unknown island.

"And there he lives to this day."