The Dealings of Captain Sharkey, and Other Tales of Pirates

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  IV

  HOW COPLEY BANKS SLEW CAPTAIN SHARKEY

  The Buccaneers were something higher than a mere band of marauders. Theywere a floating republic, with laws, usages, and discipline of theirown. In their endless and remorseless quarrel with the Spaniards theyhad some semblance of right upon their side. Their bloody harryings ofthe cities of the Main were not more barbarous than the inroads of Spainupon the Netherlands--or upon the Caribs in these same American lands.

  The chief of the Buccaneers, were he English or French, a Morgan or aGranmont, was still a responsible person, whose country mightcountenance him, or even praise him, so long as he refrained from anydeed which might shock the leathery seventeenth-century conscience toooutrageously. Some of them were touched with religion, and it is stillremembered how Sawkins threw the dice overboard upon the Sabbath, andDaniel pistolled a man before the altar for irreverence.

  But there came a day when the fleets of the Buccaneers no longermustered at the Tortugas, and the solitary and outlawed pirate tooktheir place. Yet even with him the tradition of restraint and ofdiscipline still lingered; and among the early pirates, the Avorys, theEnglands, and the Robertses, there remained some respect for humansentiment. They were more dangerous to the merchant than to the seaman.

  But they in turn were replaced by more savage and desperate men, whofrankly recognised that they would get no quarter in their war with thehuman race, and who swore that they would give as little as they got. Oftheir histories we know little that is trustworthy. They wrote nomemoirs and left no trace, save an occasional blackened andblood-stained derelict adrift upon the face of the Atlantic. Their deedscould only be surmised from the long roll of ships which never madetheir port.

  Searching the records of history, it is only here and there in anold-world trial that the veil that shrouds them seems for an instant tobe lifted, and we catch a glimpse of some amazing and grotesquebrutality behind. Such was the breed of Ned Low, of Gow the Scotchman,and of the infamous Sharkey, whose coal-black barque, the _HappyDelivery_, was known from the Newfoundland Banks to the mouths of theOrinoco as the dark forerunner of misery and of death.

  There were many men, both among the islands and on the main, who had ablood feud with Sharkey, but not one who had suffered more bitterly thanCopley Banks, of Kingston. Banks had been one of the leading sugarmerchants of the West Indies. He was a man of position, a member of theCouncil, the husband of a Percival, and the cousin of the Governor ofVirginia. His two sons had been sent to London to be educated, and theirmother had gone over to bring them back. On their return voyage theship, the _Duchess of Cornwall_, fell into the hands of Sharkey, and thewhole family met with an infamous death.

  Copley Banks said little when he heard the news, but he sank into amorose and enduring melancholy. He neglected his business, avoided hisfriends, and spent much of his time in the low taverns of the fishermenand seamen. There, amidst riot and devilry, he sat silently puffing athis pipe, with a set face and a smouldering eye. It was generallysupposed that his misfortunes had shaken his wits, and his old friendslooked at him askance, for the company which he kept was enough to barhim from honest men.

  From time to time there came rumours of Sharkey over the sea. Sometimesit was from some schooner which had seen a great flame upon the horizon,and approaching to offer help to the burning ship, had fled away at thesight of the sleek, black barque, lurking like a wolf near a mangledsheep. Sometimes it was a frightened trader, which had come tearing inwith her canvas curved like a lady's bodice, because she had seen apatched fore-topsail rising slowly above the violet water-line.Sometimes it was from a Coaster, which had found a waterless Bahama Caylittered with sun-dried bodies.

  Once there came a man who had been mate of a Guineaman, and who hadescaped from the pirate's hands. He could not speak--for reasons whichSharkey could best supply--but he could write, and he did write, to thevery great interest of Copley Banks. For hours they sat together overthe map, and the dumb man pointed here and there to outlying reefs andtortuous inlets, while his companion sat smoking in silence, with hisunvarying face and his fiery eyes.

  One morning, some two years after his misfortune, Mr. Copley Banksstrode into his own office with his old air of energy and alertness. Themanager stared at him in surprise, for it was months since he had shownany interest in business.

  "Good morning, Mr. Banks!" said he.

  "Good morning, Freeman. I see that _Ruffling Harry_ is in the Bay."

  "Yes, sir; she clears for the Windward Islands on Wednesday."

  "I have other plans for her, Freeman. I have determined upon a slavingventure to Whydah."

  "But her cargo is ready, sir."

  "Then it must come out again, Freeman. My mind is made up, and the_Ruffling Harry_ must go slaving to Whydah."

  All argument and persuasion were vain, so the manager had dolefully toclear the ship once more.

  And then Copley Banks began to make preparations for his African voyage.It appeared that he relied upon force rather than barter for the fillingof his hold, for he carried none of those showy trinkets which savageslove, but the brig was fitted with eight nine-pounder guns and racksfull of muskets and cutlasses. The after sail-room next the cabin wastransformed into a powder magazine, and she carried as many round shotas a well-found privateer. Water and provisions were shipped for a longvoyage.

  But the preparation of his ship's company was most surprising. It madeFreeman, the manager, realise that there was truth in the rumour thathis master had taken leave of his senses. For, under one pretext oranother, he began to dismiss the old and tried hands, who had served thefirm for years, and in their place he embarked the scum of the port--menwhose reputations were so vile that the lowest crimp would have beenashamed to furnish them.

  There was Birthmark Sweetlocks, who was known to have been present atthe killing of the log-wood cutters, so that his hideous scarletdisfigurement was put down by the fanciful as being a red afterglow fromthat great crime. He was first mate, and under him was Israel Martin, alittle sun-wilted fellow who had served with Howell Davies at the takingof Cape Coast Castle.

  The crew were chosen from amongst those whom Banks had met and known intheir own infamous haunts, and his own table-steward was a haggard-facedman, who gobbled at you when he tried to talk. His beard had beenshaved, and it was impossible to recognise him as the same man whomSharkey had placed under the knife, and who had escaped to tell hisexperiences to Copley Banks.

  These doings were not unnoticed, nor yet uncommented upon in the town ofKingston. The Commandant of the troops--Major Harvey, of theArtillery--made serious representations to the Governor.

  "She is not a trader, but a small warship," said he. "I think it wouldbe as well to arrest Copley Banks and to seize the vessel."

  "What do you suspect?" asked the Governor, who was a slow-witted man,broken down with fevers and port wine.

  "I suspect," said the soldier, "that it is Stede Bonnet over again."

  Now, Stede Bonnet was a planter of high reputation and religiouscharacter, who, from some sudden and overpowering freshet of wildness inhis blood, had given up everything in order to start off pirating in theCaribbean Sea. The example was a recent one, and it had caused theutmost consternation in the islands. Governors had before now beenaccused of being in league with pirates, and of receiving commissionsupon their plunder, so that any want of vigilance was open to a sinisterconstruction.

  "Well, Major Harvey," said he, "I am vastly sorry to do anything whichmay offend my friend Copley Banks, for many a time have my knees beenunder his mahogany, but in face of what you say there is no choice forme but to order you to board the vessel and to satisfy yourself as toher character and destination."

  So at one in the morning Major Harvey, with a launchful of his soldiers,paid a surprise visit to the _Ruffling Harry_, with the result that theypicked up nothing more solid than a hempen cable floating at themoorings. It had been slipped by the brig, whose owner had scenteddanger. She had already pa
ssed the Palisades, and was beating outagainst the north-east trades on a course for the Windward Passage.

  When upon the next morning the brig had left Morant Point a mere hazeupon the Southern horizon, the men were called aft, and Copley Banksrevealed his plans to them. He had chosen them, he said, as brisk boysand lads of spirit, who would rather run some risk upon the sea thanstarve for a living upon the shore. King's ships were few and weak, andthey could master any trader who might come their way. Others had donewell at the business, and with a handy, well-found vessel, there was noreason why they should not turn their tarry jackets into velvet coats.If they were prepared to sail under the black flag, he was ready tocommand them; but if any wished to withdraw, they might have the gig androw back to Jamaica.

  Four men out of six-and-forty asked for their discharge, went over theship's side into the boat, and rowed away amidst the jeers and howlingsof the crew. The rest assembled aft, and drew up the articles of theirassociation. A square of black tarpaulin had the white skull paintedupon it, and was hoisted amidst cheering at the main.

  Officers were elected, and the limits of their authority fixed. CopleyBanks was chosen Captain, but, as there are no mates upon a piratecraft, Birthmark Sweetlocks became quartermaster, and Israel Martin theboatswain. There was no difficulty in knowing what was the custom of thebrotherhood, for half the men at least had served upon pirates before.Food should be the same for all, and no man should interfere withanother man's drink! The Captain should have a cabin, but all handsshould be welcome to enter it when they chose.

  All should share and share alike, save only the captain, quartermaster,boatswain, carpenter, and master-gunner, who had from a quarter to awhole share extra. He who saw a prize first should have the best weapontaken out of her. He who boarded her first should have the richest suitof clothes aboard of her. Every man might treat his own prisoner, be itman or woman, after his own fashion. If a man flinched from his gun, thequartermaster should pistol him. These were some of the rules which thecrew of the _Ruffling Harry_ subscribed by putting forty-two crosses atthe foot of the paper upon which they had been drawn.

  So a new rover was afloat upon the seas, and her name before a year wasover became as well known as that of the _Happy Delivery_. From theBahamas to the Leewards, and from the Leewards to the Windwards, CopleyBanks became the rival of Sharkey and the terror of traders. For a longtime the barque and the brig never met, which was the more singular, asthe _Ruffling Harry_ was for ever looking in at Sharkey's resorts; butat last one day, when she was passing down the inlet of Coxon's Hole, atthe east end of Cuba, with the intention of careening, there was the_Happy Delivery_, with her blocks and tackle-falls already rigged forthe same purpose.

  Copley Banks fired a shotted salute and hoisted the green trumpeterensign, as the custom was among gentlemen of the sea. Then he droppedhis boat and went aboard.

  Captain Sharkey was not a man of a genial mood, nor had he any kindlysympathy for those who were of the same trade as himself. Copley Banksfound him seated astride upon one of the after guns, with his NewEngland quartermaster, Ned Galloway, and a crowd of roaring ruffiansstanding about him. Yet none of them roared with quite such assurancewhen Sharkey's pale face and filmy blue eyes were turned upon him.

  He was in his shirt-sleeves, with his cambric frills breaking throughhis open red satin long-flapped vest. The scorching sun seemed to haveno power upon his fleshless frame, for he wore a low fur cap, as thoughit had been winter. A many-coloured band of silk passed across his bodyand supported a short murderous sword, while his broad, brass-buckledbelt was stuffed with pistols.

  "Sink you for a poacher!" he cried, as Copley Banks passed over thebulwarks. "I will drub you within an inch of your life, and that inchalso! What mean you by fishing in my waters?"

  Copley Banks looked at him, and his eyes were like those of a travellerwho sees his home at last.

  "I am glad that we are of one mind," said he, "for I am myself ofopinion that the seas are not large enough for the two of us. But if youwill take your sword and pistols and come upon a sand-bank with me, thenthe world will be rid of a damned villain whichever way it goes."

  "Now, this is talking!" cried Sharkey, jumping off the gun and holdingout his hand. "I have not met many who could look John Sharkey in theeyes and speak with a full breath. May the devil seize me if I do notchoose you as a consort! But if you play me false, then I will comeaboard of you and gut you upon your own poop."

  "And I pledge you the same!" said Copley Banks, and so the two piratesbecame sworn comrades to each other.

  That summer they went north as far as the Newfoundland Banks, andharried the New York traders and the whale-ships from New England. Itwas Copley Banks who captured the Liverpool ship, _House of Hanover_,but it was Sharkey who fastened her master to the windlass and peltedhim to death with empty claret-bottles.

  Together they engaged the King's ship _Royal Fortune_, which had beensent in search of them, and beat her off after a night action of fivehours, the drunken, raving crews fighting naked in the light of thebattle-lanterns, with a bucket of rum and a pannikin laid by the tacklesof every gun. They ran to Topsail Inlet in North Carolina to refit, andthen in the spring they were at the Grand Caicos, ready for a longcruise down the West Indies.

  By this time Sharkey and Copley Banks had become very excellent friends,for Sharkey loved a wholehearted villain, and he loved a man of metal,and it seemed to him that the two met in the captain of the _RufflingHarry_. It was long before he gave his confidence to him, for coldsuspicion lay deep in his character. Never once would he trust himselfoutside his own ship and away from his own men.

  But Copley Banks came often on board the _Happy Delivery_, and joinedSharkey in many of his morose debauches, so that at last any lingeringmisgivings of the latter were set at rest. He knew nothing of the evilthat he had done to his new boon companion, for of his many victims howcould he remember the woman and the two boys whom he had slain with suchlevity so long ago! When, therefore, he received a challenge to himselfand to his quartermaster for a carouse upon the last evening of theirstay at the Caicos Bank, he saw no reason to refuse.

  A well-found passenger ship had been rifled the week before, so theirfare was of the best, and after supper five of them drank deeplytogether. There were the two captains, Birthmark Sweetlocks, NedGalloway, and Israel Martin, the old buccaneersman. To wait upon themwas the dumb steward, whose head Sharkey split with his glass, becausehe had been too slow in the filling of it.

  The quartermaster had slipped Sharkey's pistols away from him, for itwas an old joke with him to fire them cross-handed under the table, andsee who was the luckiest man. It was a pleasantry which had cost hisboatswain his leg, so now, when the table was cleared, they would coaxSharkey's weapons away from him on the excuse of the heat, and lay themout of his reach.

  The Captain's cabin of the _Ruffling Harry_ was in a deck-house upon thepoop, and a sternchaser gun was mounted at the back of it. Round shotwere racked round the wall, and three great hogsheads of powder made astand for dishes and for bottles. In this grim room the five piratessang and roared and drank, while the silent steward still filled uptheir glasses, and passed the box and the candle round for theirtobacco-pipes. Hour after hour the talk became fouler, the voiceshoarser, the curses and shoutings more incoherent, until three of thefive had closed their blood-shot eyes, and dropped their swimming headsupon the table.

  Copley Banks and Sharkey were left face to face, the one because he haddrunk the least, the other because no amount of liquor would ever shakehis iron nerve or warm his sluggish blood. Behind him stood the watchfulsteward, for ever filling up his waning glass. From without came the lowlapping of the tide, and from over the water a sailor's chanty from thebarque.

  In the windless tropical night the words came clearly to their ears:

  "A trader sailed from Stepney Town, Wake her up! Shake her up! Try her with the mainsail! A trader sailed from Stepney Town With a keg full of
gold and a velvet gown. Ho, the bully Rover Jack, Waiting with his yard aback Out upon the Lowland Sea."

  The two boon companions sat listening in silence. Then Copley Banksglanced at the steward, and the man took a coil of rope from theshot-rack behind him.

  "Captain Sharkey," said Copley Banks, "do you remember the _Duchess ofCornwall_, hailing from London, which you took and sank three years agooff the Statira Shoal?"

  "Curse me if I can bear their names in mind," said Sharkey. "We did asmany as ten ships a week about that time."

  "There were a mother and two sons among the passengers. Maybe that willbring it back to your mind."

  Captain Sharkey leant back in thought, with his huge thin beak of a nosejutting upwards. Then he burst suddenly into a high treble, neighinglaugh. He remembered it, he said, and he added details to prove it.

  "But burn me if it had not slipped from my mind!" he cried. "How cameyou to think of it?"

  "It was of interest to me," said Copley Banks, "for the woman was mywife and the lads were my only sons."

  Sharkey stared across at his companion, and saw that the smoulderingfire which lurked always in his eyes had burned up into a lurid flame.He read their menace, and he clapped his hands to his empty belt. Thenhe turned to seize a weapon, but the bight of a rope was cast round him,and in an instant his arms were bound to his side. He fought like a wildcat and screamed for help.

  "Ned!" he yelled. "Ned! Wake up! Here's damned villainy! Help, Ned,help!"

  But the three men were far too deeply sunk in their swinish sleep forany voice to wake them. Round and round went the rope, until Sharkey wasswathed like a mummy from ankle to neck. They propped him stiff andhelpless against a powder barrel, and they gagged him with ahandkerchief, but his filmy, red-rimmed eyes still looked curses atthem. The dumb man chattered in his exultation, and Sharkey winced forthe first time when he saw the empty mouth before him. He understoodthat vengeance, slow and patient, had dogged him long, and clutched himat last.

  The two captors had their plans all arranged, and they were somewhatelaborate.

  First of all they stove the heads of two of the great powder barrels,and they heaped the contents out upon the table and floor. They piled itround and under the three drunken men, until each sprawled in a heap ofit. Then they carried Sharkey to the gun and they triced him sittingover the port-hole, with his body about a foot from the muzzle. Wriggleas he would he could not move an inch either to right or left, and thedumb man trussed him up with a sailor's cunning, so that there was nochance that he should work free.

  "Now, you bloody devil," said Copley Banks, softly, "you must listen towhat I have to say to you, for they are the last words that you willhear. You are my man now, and I have bought you at a price, for I havegiven all that a man can give here below, and I have given my soul aswell.

  "To reach you I have had to sink to your level. For two years I stroveagainst it, hoping that some other way might come, but I learnt thatthere was no other way. I've robbed and I have murdered--worse still, Ihave laughed and lived with you--and all for the one end. And now mytime has come, and you will die as I would have you die, seeing theshadow creeping slowly upon you and the devil waiting for you in theshadow."

  Sharkey could hear the hoarse voices of his rovers singing their chantyover the water.

  "Where is the trader of Stepney Town? Wake her up! Shake her up! Every stick a-bending! Where is the trader of Stepney Town? His gold's on the capstan, his blood's on his gown. All for bully rover Jack, Reaching on the weather tack Right across the Lowland Sea."

  The words came clear to his ear, and just outside he could hear two menpacing backwards and forwards upon the deck. And yet he was helpless,staring down the mouth of the nine-pounder, unable to move an inch or toutter so much as a groan. Again there came the burst of voices from thedeck of the barque.

  "So it's up and it's over to Stornoway Bay, Pack it on! Crack it on! Try her with the stun-sails! It's off on a bowline to Stornoway Bay, Where the liquor is good and the lasses are gay, Waiting for their bully Jack, Watching for him sailing back, Right across the Lowland Sea."

  To the dying pirate the jovial words and rollicking tune made his ownfate seem the harsher, but there was no softening in his venomous blueeyes. Copley Banks had brushed away the priming of the gun, and hadsprinkled fresh powder over the touch-hole. Then he had taken up thecandle and cut it to the length of about an inch. This he placed uponthe loose powder at the breach of the gun. Then he scattered powderthickly over the floor beneath, so that when the candle fell at therecoil it must explode the huge pile in which the three drunkards werewallowing.

  "You've made others look death in the face, Sharkey," said he; "now ithas come to be your own turn. You and these swine here shall gotogether!" He lit the candle-end as he spoke, and blew out the otherlights upon the table. Then he passed out with the dumb man, and lockedthe cabin door upon the outer side. But before he closed it he took anexultant look backwards and received one last curse from thoseunconquerable eyes. In the single dim circle of light that ivory-whiteface, with the gleam of moisture upon the high, bald forehead, was thelast that was ever seen of Sharkey.

  There was a skiff alongside, and in it Copley Banks and the dumb stewardmade their way to the beach, and looked back upon the brig riding in themoonlight just outside the shadow of the palm trees. They waited andwaited, watching that dim light which shone through the stern port. Andthen at last there came the dull thud of a gun, and an instant later theshattering crash of the explosion. The long, sleek, black barque, thesweep of white sand, and the fringe of nodding, feathery palm treessprang into dazzling light and back into darkness again. Voices screamedand called upon the bay.

  Then Copley Banks, his heart singing within him touched his companionupon the shoulder, and they plunged together into the lonely jungle ofthe Caicos.