JANUARY
Wednesday 9th
Last night we all slept not a wink, for we were tortured by a mournful song that seemed to come from the ocean’s depths. The sailors on deck could hardly hear it, but the sound echoed plainly through the hull below.
Thursday 10th
During the afternoon the lookout pointed to the starboard side and shouted, “A monster! A great sea monster!” I rushed to look, and saw the tail of a giant fish thrash at the water, then disappear into the deep. Moments later the beast’s gigantic body rose to the surface, and into the air blew a spout of water as tall as two men. The fish was swimming quickly at our ship and I feared it would eat us in a single gulp. But when my shipmates saw my terror, it amused them greatly. One sailor called to me, “Fear not, lad, ’tis only a whale. I’ve hunted many of these beasts in the icy waters up north.” However, at that moment a huge fin appeared from the waves, fully twenty feet in length. It crashed into the ship’s side, shaking every timber, and took away a section of deck rail before the beast dived from sight.
Saturday 12th
Today we arrived at a small island to careen the ship — that is scraping from her bottom the barnacles and weed that slow our progress through the water. While we are here we shall also repair the damage done by the whale.
First we unloaded the cargo (apart from the disgusting salt fish which remains for the cook to use). From the timber we were carrying we built a stockade. Then we loaded the barrels within it and covered it with old sails taken from the pirate ship. This will serve as our warehouse while we look for a richer prize. To hide it from prying eyes we covered the whole with sand from the dunes.
Next, the Greyhound was anchored in shallow water at high tide, and we secured everything on board. When the tide went out the Greyhound was left high and dry on the shore and we propped her up with timbers for the work.
Saturday 26th
Careening and repairing the ship has taken these last two weeks. There was much to do so everyone lent a hand, but still it was a tiresome task. I would never have guessed that so much of the hull lay below the water. After the hull was scraped clean, we coated the ship in a foul-smelling mixture of grease and brimstone, to protect against the plants and tiny sea beasties returning. Adam and I also replaced any broken or rotted planks.
Places to careen a ship are few, for there must be a beach both sandy and steep. So it was no surprise when another pirate ship, the Ranger, arrived with the same purpose in mind. This led to some merry carousing, and the story of the sea monster greatly improved in the retelling.
Sunday 27th
We learned from the Ranger that a fleet of treasure ships bound for Spain sank off the Florida shore last summer. The Spaniards are using divers to raise gold and other treasure from the wrecks! Everything they find, they carry ashore each night for safekeeping. Pirate leader Henry Jennings is planning an attack on the Spanish camp. The Ranger is to join him, and we have agreed to follow!
Monday 28th
We challenged the Ranger to a cannon contest today. There was a serious intent behind this sport. Noah wanted to be sure that we could fight as well as we could sail.
Each man has but one job when firing a gun. I am a powder monkey. I run to the lower deck to fetch gunpowder. It is stored there in a “magazine,” a cabin protected by curtains of wet canvas against sparks that fly in a battle. Inside, the gunner packs enough powder for each shot into a paper parcel. This we call a “charge.”
I take the charge and carry it in a leather box to the cannon. Abraham, who has the same job, warned me, “Be careful! If a spark lights it, the powder will surely blow us both to atoms.”
The rest of the gun crew works thus: The loader puts the charge into the barrel of the cannon, then some cloth to keep the charge in place, and finally the ball.
Then the sponger forces them all firmly down into the cannon with a long stick called a “rammer.”
The gun captain then cuts the charge by pushing a small spike into the touch hole at the closed end of the gun. He then calls, “Run out!” and all eight of the gun crew haul on the ropes to pull the gun to the gunport.
The gun captain holds a glowing taper to the touch hole and the ball is fired with a deafening crash.
The Ranger was the first to hit the target and won the contest. However, our gun crew is the fastest on the Greyhound. We can load and fire our piece in less than a minute.
Tuesday 29th
At last we set sail, bound for the coast of Florida, where we shall meet Henry Jennings — and the Spanish treasure!
FEBRUARY
Monday 4th
We have reached Florida, and have been joined by three ships. Henry Jennings, who now leads our small army of 300 pirates, calls us “The Flying Gang.” A boat rowed him over, and I learned from one of his oarsmen that the three ships come from a place called New Providence, an island only a couple of days’ sailing from here. One of our crew who has been there tells me, “It is a paradise, where pirates do as they please without fear of the law.”
Wednesday 6th
It was not difficult to find the Spanish as their ships are anchored above the wrecks. The crews sleep ashore, which is scarce two hundred yards distant, leaving a couple of sailors on watch on the ships.
The moon had not yet risen, and we doused all lights except those that shone to seaward. Thus hidden by the night we could sail close in to the shore; so close, in fact, that we could see the fires of the Spaniards’ camp and hear the music they were playing. The sailors left on watch must have been drinking too, as they did not espy our approach.
At first, the crew favored leaving me on board the ship during the raid. They thought I was still too much of a landsman to risk on such a venture, but I pleaded with them to take me. Eventually my begging had some effect, for Noah told me he had found me a task. “Very well, Jake. You shall guard the boats on the shore until we return.” I guessed that this safe work was chosen because of my age. I did not protest but instead I secretly resolved to follow them to the camp.
With this in mind, I took two pistols that one of the pirates had left behind on his hammock roll. The pistols were too small for the owner’s purpose but suited me well, so I hid them in my belt. I was able to load them easily (I watched how others did it) and powder and ball were free for all before we set off.
Leaving our ships riding at anchor, we quietly rowed ashore. A whistle blast was the signal for our attack. When it came, we sprang upon the Spanish from the shadows. Most fled like frightened rabbits, but not their capitano. He fought so boldly that no one could get near him.
Our boatswain Saul knelt down and aimed his musket at the tall figure now alone in the center of the camp. He pulled the trigger; the flint snapped, the powder flashed, but alas, the gun did not fire. The flash, though, attracted the attention of the capitano. Saul rose and drew his sword, but lost his footing on the soft sand and tumbled awkwardly to the ground.
In a moment the capitano was on top of him, and stood in his heavy sea boots on the sleeves of Saul’s coat, pinning him to the ground. He laughed in triumph as he cocked his two pistols and pointed both at Saul’s head.
A blinding flash of light and a deafening blast engulfed me. I had never fired a pistol before, let alone two at once. I was so dazed that I was hardly aware of what happened next. Saul told me that one of my pistol balls flew wide of the mark, but the other hit the capitano’s shoulder; thus was Saul’s life spared and the capitano quickly captured. His wound was slight, and before we returned to our ships we left him tied to a tree.
Friday 8th
Our attack worked better than any of us dreamed it could. I was a hero (for a day, at least) and was forgiven for “forgetting” Noah’s orders to guard the boats and my “borrowing” of the pistols. Without loss of any of our number we captured 350,000 pieces of eight. Henry Jennings counted the coins out into piles on a table in his Great Cabin. He distributed to each his share, but only after taking dice
from us, so that we would not gamble it away. For my part I was given 564 of the coins — a small fortune, and more than my father ever had in his life.
MARCH
Tuesday 12th
Last night I felt more afeared than I ever have since the pirates attacked our ship. Every crew member takes turns on deck watching for danger. I was on middle watch, and thus took my turn in the dead of night. It was cloudy and the sky was black as molasses. As I listened to the creaking timbers, it seemed to me that our ship was alive, breathing and sighing as she pitched in the ocean swell. Worse still, a storm gathered and the upper rigging began to glow with an unearthly light.
I dreaded that the ship was doomed and would be consumed by fire from the sky. I cried out loud, and my alarm brought the gunner (who was also on watch) to my side. He quickly calmed me saying, “Hush Jake, we’re all safe. The flames in the rigging are a kind of lightning. There’s even a name for them: Saint Elmo’s fire.” Then he told me that this saint is the guardian of sailors and that I should call on him when I feared harm.
After our successful raid we fled quickly, but now, safe from fear of capture by Spanish warships, most of the crew seem content to do nothing. Adam, however, cannot bear to be idle, so today we went in search of leaks to plug. He called over, “Pass me the Dutch saw, lad; the small ’un.” I looked, but could find it nowhere in his bag. We searched the hold and tool store, but the saw had vanished. Adam said, “A wave must have taken it while my back was turned.” I worry he does not believe this and suspects that I have lost it — which I have not!
Friday 15th
Today I learned about another of the sea’s mysteries. Through the mist we heard a strange chirping song. Then I heard the helmsman gasp, “Look! A mermaid!” Sure enough, there she sat on a sandbank. I had heard of these creatures, half fish, half woman, but I doubted they existed. Now I have seen one, I am still not certain who — or what — they are.
As we all looked, a debate started up. “’Tis a mermaid, no doubt about it,” said one. “Nay, man!” said another. “Mermaids are young and beautiful and sit combing their long, blonde hair. This lass is bald, ugly, and old. Why, she even has long whiskers, and is as big as a carthorse.”
I could not decide who was right. I glimpsed her for just a moment, and then the mist hid the sandbank from view.
Tuesday 19th
The other pirate ships having gone on their way, we set sail today for the pirate island in the Bahamas. A misadventure delayed us. Noah is in the habit of leaning against the deck rail and smoking a pipe of tobacco. He always chooses the same spot for this relaxation.
Today, as he rested there, the rail gave way and he plunged overboard. The Greyhound was in a flat calm, so we were able to lower a boat and recover him from the water. He was shaken, and the fall had hurt his arm, but he came to no real harm.
Things would have been different indeed had we been under way in a stiff breeze. Then he would have been two leagues astern by the time we had brought the Greyhound to a halt.
When we studied the rail we saw it had been cut three-fourths through, and pitch smeared over it to hide the cut. ’Twas clear that it was someone’s evil intent the rail break, and not an accident. Noah might have suspected Adam had he not known that the Dutch saw had disappeared a week past. Since none but the thief knew who had taken the saw, each eyed his companions with suspicion. This is a bad thing on a ship, for the sea is a dangerous place. A hundred times a day you must trust your life on knots your shipmates have tied.
Friday 22nd
The journey to New Providence is just 200 miles and — aside from Noah’s mishap — has so far passed without incident. For the first time since I put to sea I found myself bored.
Some of my companions pass the time by carving sea monsters’ teeth into fantastic shapes, or by engraving pictures on them. Adam showed me two coconuts that he had carved and polished to make a drinking cup and a container for tobacco.
Gabriel and Pierre struck up a merry tune on the whistle and fiddle and many of the company danced a jig or two around the deck.
One of the seamen who has hunted whales in the north, passes the time by decorating the skin of his messmates in a manner he learned from the Eskimo people. He pierces their skin with a needle, and pulls a thread rolled in soot through the bloody hole. This looks very painful and I quickly turned down the offer to have myself decorated likewise!
Bart scoffs at all this recreation, calling it “a waste of time.” He spends his idle hours sewing clothes for himself and for others who are not as skilled with a needle as he. When he is finished with this industry he carves tools for splicing and covering ropes — that is joining and wrapping them in canvas to protect them. He showed me two: a fid and a serving mallet.
Sunday 24th
We reached New Providence this morning. Within its large harbor are upward of four score ships. We took great care sailing into the harbor, to avoid colliding with the pirates, slavers, and contrabandists moored everywhere. We handed all the sails, put out the large oars (called sweeps), and carefully rowed the Greyhound until we found space to anchor.
It is exactly as I had been told it would be. There are just a few shacks, but the sand dunes have become a town of tents. Their ragged owners sell or rent everything imaginable from ships’ provisions and hardware to wine and rum.
Monday 25th
To go ashore, we had to leap from the rowing boat and wade a little way through the surf. I waited my turn behind Ben (who was the pirate captain until we chose Noah). He jumped into the water, then turned back to get his bag. As he lifted it, something shiny clattered into the boat. I called out, “Wait, Ben! You’ve dropped something!” We all stared into the bottom of the boat — and there lay the Dutch saw Adam had lost! When I turned to look back at Ben, he had made a run for it. We started after him, but Noah shook his head. “Let him go. We are better off without the rat. I suspected it was he who cut the rail, but as I could prove nothing, I judged it better to say nothing.”
APRIL
Wednesday 3rd
Today some unexpected news caused great excitement on the island! From a ship out of Bermuda we learn that September last, England’s King George declared an Act of Grace, aiming to bring an end to piracy. Those pirates who swear to give up their trade shall receive a royal pardon, and will not be punished. This is good news, since (as is well known) the punishment for piracy is usually execution by the hangman’s noose.
The governor of Bermuda had sent his man here to read the Act, and a huge crowd gathered. I could scarcely hear as the wind carried away the man’s words. Nevertheless, it was easy to learn what he said, for since then the talk has been of nothing else.
Friday 5th
The pardon has split our company. The navy deserters in our crew oppose it for they say that “Pardon or no pardon, we will be forced once more onto battleships.” There are also among us those who hate England’s king and despise all his laws and pardons. Some of the company have known no other life but piracy, and others have taken a liking to their new occupation. As one of them told me, “The life of an ordinary sailor, fisherman, or farmer seems a dull one now.”
Many of us, though, welcome the king’s forgiveness. We all have Spanish silver in our pockets (leastways, those of us who have not lost it at cards among the dunes of New Providence), and a pardon would free us from the fear of capture by the king’s men.
However, there is a problem. We need to go to a colonial port to be pardoned. If those who favor a pardon sail away in the Greyhound, how shall the remainder go a-pirating? And if the pirates take the ship, how shall the others return?
Wednesday 10th
Our company has reached an agreement. Altogether, those who wish to continue with the piratical life number just ten. The remainder, who want the king’s pardon, shall take the ship. In payment for the Greyhound each forfeits one fourth of their share of the silver.
I have decided to take the pardon. I fear that if I we
re to stay a pirate I might never see my father again. And if I were caught and hanged, it would bring great shame on my family.
Parting with a quarter of my share of the Spanish silver seems a high price to pay. However, when we reach our destination we aim to sell the ship, and thus recover our losses.
Friday 26th
Greyhound set sail for Bath town on the Pamlico river. We dare not return to Charleston. Old Nick owed every merchant there money, and we fear they would take the ship in settlement of the debts. Abraham, Adam, Bart, and Noah sail with us, as do thirty others.
I cannot say I am sorry to leave New Providence behind. Some cherish the island as a pirates’ paradise, but I shall best remember the stench of the place and the rats (which surely outnumbered the people).
MAY
Saturday 11th
Yesterday, after sighting land, we ran into a storm. Noah had been studying the sky since dawn yesterday, and he had looked uneasy all morning. Just before noon he commanded abruptly, “Shorten sail!” This surprised us, for the weather seemed fair, with a good following wind. Every one of us was keen to return to shore with all possible haste, but by rolling up the canvas we would sail more slowly. An argument broke out, and Noah was called “a futtock-kneed old fool,” but our captain would not be moved.
We went aloft and shortened sail until there were just three sails spread before the wind. However, there was much grumbling on the yardarm, where Noah could not hear. No sooner had we returned to the deck when the wind veered rapidly round. Half an hour later, we spied black clouds moving in from the east.
“Get the anchor ready! Cook, douse the fire!” cried out Noah. Hearing this, we feared the worst, for clearly he was expecting a sea strong enough to throw the embers from the hearth. “Topmen, shorten sail!” The topmen hurried aloft while on the deck the rest of us hauled the thick anchor cable from its locker. Soon we had only two small staysails set, yet still the wind drove us on through the rising waves faster than a galloping horse.
Pirate Diary Page 3