First-Rate, still crying, began to laugh.
“I weep not because I fear for my life,” he said. “How I hate the established powers of this world since I was denied my rightful commission in the Royal Navy! When first I heard of your mission with John and the others, my heart longed to follow, wherever it led, whatever its fate. But I clung to respectability and now it is my downfall. Shamefully, I was taken without a fight. Had I just been captured with a sword in my hand and blood on my blade, I would have gone to the gallows with a smile on my face.”
“First-Rate,” I said, “you are a man of courage and honor. When we see each other again, in hell, I’ll be proud to call you comrade.”
With that, the cell door was thrown open and I was taken outside. I look’d up at the sky to see its sweet face again, and found the sight to be strange. The sun was bloody red, like the flesh beneath a freshly picked scab, and the heavenly expanse all ’round the dim orb was cloudless and dull— gray on gray. Still, the day was quite warm, and my guards would allow me no water, nor food.
“They’re sayin’ yer a witch,” said one flat-nosed soldier, who seem’d to be the leader of this lot. “Being if that’s so, you can work yer magic and enchant yerself a luncheon.”
So the secret of my sex was laid bare and it was mandated that I be moved to another facility. St. Jago de la Vega is some thirteen miles’ journey from Port Royal, and, after an hour’s march through a forest and along a dirt path, we came to our destination. The town sits at the top of a green slope, where the Rio Cobre winds its way ’round the foot of White Marl Hill. It was a grander place in its earlier days, before the English came and razed it because the locals would not reveal where their treasures had been hidden. The houses— there were several hundred left, and some had been rebuilt— were made of tile and wood, some others of brick, and still others of strips of sugarcane tied together with hemp rope. Few of the domiciles were constructed above a single story, due to the fear of hurricanes, earthquakes, and other natural disasters that afflict this region.
The sun, now, is blazing hot, and remains red and angry. We cross the Rio Cobre and walk to Barrett Road. Heat rises with the dust off the sandy streets; heat drips down the sweaty shoulders of shirtless sailors unloading crates of codfish and herring and salmon on the docks. The heat plays tricks with the eyes and makes the breezeless, lifeless air seem to move and oscillate. Even squat buildings in this strange light seem to twist and sway like coconut palms caught by a high wind. In the distance, above and beyond the city, the St. Andrews mountains dance in the heat, like images seen through the flickers of flame. On the streets, pedestrians keep to the shadows, seeking to avoid the direct fury of the sun’s gaze, which looks down on the city as if it were God’s great eye.
We pass by the red-brick tower of the cathedral of St. Jago de la Vega, the tallest building in town; perhaps it risks the threat of disaster with its height because, as a place of God, its architects felt that it would be exempt from nature’s wrath. As we walk up Red Church Street, strumpets strut on the side of the avenue, hawking their fleshy wares. They come in all shades— white, mulatto, quadroon, octoroon. Some are dressed in clothes of the country— a red-and-white bandana, or tie-head as it was sometimes called, wrapped around their hair, a plain apron around their waist, bowed on the side. Others were dressed in more elaborate styles not too many years removed from the drawing rooms of Europe— evening dresses with close-fitting bodices and full frilled sleeves, silks skirts gathered in pleats at the waist and hanging in folds to the ground. The harlots’ costumes were third and fourth hand, worn in places and patched in others. A goodly number of the slammerkin themselves seemed similarly well traveled and worn.
“Why, that’s Anne Bonny!” one whore, who was large of body, called out. “What other woman would require such an escort! Tell us your tale, Bonny!”
“Too good for the strumpet’s life?” another shouted at me. “I hope they hang yuh high and bury yuh shallow!”
The harlots surrounded me and pulled at my garments. My hands being chain’d, I was unable to beat them off, and my guards, laughing, did little to restrain my attackers. The slammerkin clawed and bit me, slapped and punched me, and I fell to the earth before being pulled back up again, roughly, by my manacles. I realized that they were trying to disrobe me, and I tried to hold fast to my clothing but it was for naught. Soon, I was standing naked as African cargo on the deck of a slaver, and the laughter of the harlots rained down on me. I had not appeared in public as a woman for a considerable period. Tears came to my eyes and I choked back a sob.
“Now she knows her place!”
“The Governor does what he does for the children!”
“You’ll get what you deserve!”
“Ha!” said Flat-Nose. “You look like a woman now.”
“Give me a sword and we’ll see who’s a man,” I said.
We arrived at Parade Square, a green expanse that was surrounded on all sides by large white buildings that were built in a flowing Spanish style. I was marched past the ivory-columned grandeur of a building marked as the Supreme Court to a low beige building located directly behind it.
“Middlesex and Surrey County Gaol,” said Flat-Nose. “Here’s your new home, witch.”
“If you have any honor, you’ll lend me a coat, or some covering.”
“They’ll provide for you once inside.”
“Why was I transported to this place?”
“Weren’t you told?” said Flat-Nose, laughing. “The trial of you pyrates starts with the morn and Lawes means to see you hang’d.”
chapter 32.
In the morning I was taken from my prison cell at the Middlesex and Surrey County Gaol and escorted by guards over to the Supreme Court. The walk was a short one, but the trip, on this occasion, took a considerable amount of time. The distance was filled with gawkers come to attend the trial, or at least loiter in the general vicinity of such an infamous affair— there were strumpets, sailors, farmers with dirt from their fields still smudged on their faces, young girls holding aloft privateer dolls with nooses sewn ’round their miniature necks, local merchants selling sugarcane sweets and calabashes of rum, well-to-do men and women from the sugar plantations with their opera glasses out and delighted to finally be putting them to some use in this uncultured region.
“You’ll hang for sure, witch!” one girl with bright red hair shouted at me, twisting the neck of her privateer doll.
“I’m a reporter for the Boston Gazette!” cried a brown-haired young man with a shiny face. “Can you give me a quote for our readers? How do you feel about the separate trials?”
I was ushered into a wooden courtroom and a guard chained me to my seat.
“Your day of judgment will come later, m’love,” he said to me. “Today, Calico Jack will get his comeuppance.”
Indeed, John was led into the courtroom moments later. He was with ten other men, all from the ship, including Zayd, Hunahpu, and luckless First-Rate, who had the misfortune to be linked to our unhappy band. Even Poop was there among the accused; his treachery had won him only a chance at the gallows with the rest of us. I felt no hatred for him, only the sadness one feels for a fool. The men all seem’d gaunt, and they were unshaven and dirty. They were, every one, in chains and the spectators in the courtroom hooted as they were dragged in. In addition, rotten food and other refuse was hurled at them. I tried to get John’s attention but could scarcely be heard over the din of the mob. He stared straight ahead, his eyes dark and sunken.
Next, the court crier came before those assembled.
“There will be silence upon punishment of hanging!”
All fell quiet at these words, for it was known they were backed with force of law.
“This being Wednesday, November the sixteenth, the year of our lord 1720, a court of admiralty is held before his excellency Sir Nicholas Lawes, his majesty’s captain-general and governor in chief in and over his majesty’s island of Jamaica and other territories thereon
depending in America!”
At this, Lawes swept into the courtroom and took his seat at the front. He was a tall man, proud in bearing, with a large sharp nose and piercing gray eyes. His pallor was closer to that of a statue or graven image than that of a living being, and he did not blink much, nor smile at all. Upon taking his seat, he laid his hand upon the Good Book and swore an oath in a deep voice, then, having finished, he nodded for the court crier to continue with the opening proclamation.
“All manner of persons that can inform this honorable court, now sitting, of any pyracies, acts of terror, or robberies committed in or upon the sea, or in any haven, creek, or place in or about this island, or elsewhere in the West Indies, where the admiral or admirals of our sovereign lord the king hath or have any power, authority, or jurisdiction, let them come forth and they shall be heard.”
John and the rest were led to the bar and were told by the register to listen to their charges, and the register, as directed by Lawes, read the articles exhibited against them.
“Articles exhibited in a court of Admiralty, held at the town of Saint Jago de la Vega in the said Island, the sixteenth of November, in the seventh year of the reign of our sovereign Lord George, by the grace of God, of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, King, and of Jamaica, Defender of the Faith, by virtue of a commission, from his said majesty King George, under the Great Seal of Britain, bearing Date, the third day of April, in the fourth year of his majesty’s reign, issued pursuant, to an act of Parliament, made in Great Britain in the eleventh year of the reign of our late sovereign lord King William the Third, since made perpetual, entitled An Act for the More Effectual Suppression of Pyracy, for the Trying, Hearing, Determining, and Adjudging of all Pyracies, Felonies, and Robberies Committed in or upon the Sea.”
The language used was so intricate that I often had trouble following the thread of whatever meaning was at the core of each statement. But like a ripe fruit that, once bitten, reveals itself to have meat rotten and infested with worms, so, too, did this proceeding have a putrid core. After the ornate opening statements, there then followed such a cavalcade of lies as can scarcely be believed. John and my fellows were accused of things that they had not done and were alleged to have said things that they did not say. Perhaps there were crimes that we did commit, but to be charged with base offenses that were petty, and besides, not of our doing, was some felony in and of itself.
“Charge the first: that Calico John Rackam and his fellows, on the first Day of September, in the Seventh Year of the reign of our Lord the King, upon the high Sea, in a certain Sloop of an unknown Name, did Solemnly and Wickedly consult, and agree together, to rob, plunder and take, all such persons, as well as subjects of our Lord the King, with force of arms upon the high sea, in a certain place distant about two leagues from Harbour Island in America, and within the jurisdiction of this court, did pyratically, feloniously and with great terror, attack, engage and take seven certain fishing boats and there piratically, and with great terror, did steal, take and carry away the fish, the fishing tackle, of the value of ten pounds of current money of Jamaica.
“Charge the second: that afterwards, to wit, the fifth day of October, in the year last mentioned, that the said Calico Jack Rackam and his fellows and every one of them, in the said pyrate sloop being, by force of arms, etc., upon the high sea, in a certain place, distant about three leagues from the Island of Hispaniola in America, and within the jurisdiction of this court, did pyratically, and with great terror, set upon, shoot at, and take two merchant sloops, then being sloops of certain persons, subjects of our Lord the King.
“Charge the third: that they, Jack Rackam and his fellows and every one of them, in the said pyrate sloop being, afterwards, to wit, the nineteenth day of October in the year last mentioned, with force of arms, etc., upon the high sea, in certain place, distant about five leagues from Porto-Maria-Bay, in the said Island of Jamaica and within the jurisdiction of this court, did pyratically, and with great terror, shoot at, set upon and take, a certain schooner, of an unknown name.”
The charges continued— all false, lies upon lies. I wondered what the purpose of such falsehood was, and why the court did not proceed with a case built upon the facts, some of which, I must admit, could have possibly been viewed as against our favor. The richest of our prizes, among them the Madrid galleon, were not listed among our crimes or even mentioned. All our ill-gotten goods— or at least the treasure we had not spent— had certainly been collected by authorities by now. So where were all the riches we had stolen? Then, observing Lawes upon the bench in his finery, I was struck by a revelation— the courts were, by far, the cleverest pyrates of all of us. These crimes they accused us of, no doubt, took place— but they were, in all likelihood, committed by persons under Lawes’s employ or by privateers sailing under a letter of marque. We, who sailed under no country’s banner and who lacked a treaty with any territory, were being made to pay for crimes that were filling the coffers of King George in Britain as well as those of Lawes and Rogers. The treasure we had stolen they would steal back. The riches of the Madrid galleon they would surreptitiously confiscate. And there would never be any record of their wrongdoing. And no one would put stock in the protests and ravings of convicted pyrates.
And thus have the affairs of this world ever been conducted. The slavers sail on, the cat-o’-nine-tails cracks, and a waltz is played. The city of Kingston was rife with crime, and so, too, were the streets of New Providence. Port Royal, the city lately wracked by earthquake, was still maimed by that event, with little evidence of public works to aid its recovery. Human cargo was rotting in the holds of ships in violation of every dictate of decent conduct. And yet the concern of the government was ever on pyrates, and their efforts were bent on directing citizens to mind the public hangings and the directives toward the suppressions of pyracy, rather than to focus on the felonious official activities in front of their own faces. And so the slavers sail on, the cat-o’-nine-tails cracks, and a waltz is played. Every nation needs a good pyrate— to give citizens a reason to fear, to provide soldiers an enemy to fight, and to grant kings and queens, governors and generals a villain on which to pin their own acts of plunder and pyracy. What fools we were! The boldest pyrates run nations and do not command mere single ships!
The charges having been read, the prisoners were questioned by the register: “What do you all have to say? Are you guilty of the pyracies, robberies, and felonies, or any of them, in the aforesaid articles mentioned, which have just been read unto you? Are you guilty or not guilty?”
Whereupon John stepped forward and brushed his matted hair out of his face. He met Lawes with a steady gaze and the Governor leaned forward in his high chair and returned the stare.
“I speak for all,” said John. “We are all not guilty. You are all the guilty ones here and you are twice guilty, for the Lord hates hypocrites and oath-breakers more than he despiseth a pyrate or a thief.”
The crowd broke into loud hooting and John and the rest were pulled back by the chains. The trial then continued.
One by one, the register did call and produce witnesses to prove the said articles and establish the charges against the prisoners; each witness, having been duly sworn in, was examined by His Excellency the Governor.
Thomas Spenlow, of Port Royal, a rotund man and a mariner on the island of Jamaica who was said, by the court, to have been the commander of a schooner alleged to have been taken by John, deposed thusly: that to the best of his remembrance, on or about the nineteenth day of October last, Calico Jack Rackam took his ship by force and took out of his said schooner fifty rolls of tobacco, nine bags of pimento, and kept him custody for about forty and eight hours.
Then Peter Cornelian and John Besneck, two other witnesses, were produced, but, being Frenchmen and not speaking English, one James Burr was sworn in as interpreter, and the two Frenchmen testified that the prisoners who stood accused had taken them off the shore of the island of Hispaniola in America
where they were hunting wild hog, and then, afterward, forced them to sail with him.
Now, before God, I had never seen these two Frenchmen in my life, not aboard the Will, nor on any ship or shore in the West Indies. At their testimony John, who I knew to have been schooled in some French, shook his head, which I took to mean that the witnesses were not being translated in a way that was accurate to their original meaning in their own tongue.
After all the witnesses had been examined (there were two score or more of them, and if we have robbed them all in truth, we would have been several times richer than we were), His Excellency the Governor asked every one of the prisoners if they had any defense to make, or any witnesses to be sworn on their behalf, or if they would have any of the witnesses, who had already been sworn, cross-examined; and, if that were the case, what questions would they propose?
Whereto they all of them answered that they had no witnesses, that they had never committed any acts of pyracy, and that their design was always from the start against the Spaniards who were his majesty’s enemies.
After a brief period was taken for the Governor to consider the evidence, the prisoners were taken back before the bar, and the Governor pronounced his sentence on each of them, one by one, ending with John. The court, they were each told in turn, had unanimously found them all guilty of the pyracy, robbery, and terror charged against them. They were then each asked whether they or any of them had anything to say or offer about why the sentence of death should not pass upon them for their offenses.
Kingston by Starlight Page 25