SAM BELLAMY well knew what he was doing when he raised his personal flag as soon as he got close to the Whydah. In the first decades of the 1700s, nothing terrified the captain and crew of a merchant vessel more than the sight of a pirate flag flying from the mast of an approaching ship. Known as a Jolly Roger no matter what its design, the flag let the captain of the ship being attacked know that he was facing one of the most important decisions of his life — to surrender immediately or to try to fight off the pirate attackers.
No one knows the origin of the pirate flag. It probably dates back to the days when a ship attacking another vessel would fly a plain black flag to convey the message that if the other ship surrendered at once, no harm would come to the captured crew. If the vessel under attack refused to give in immediately, the attacking ship raised a plain red flag to show that no mercy would be given.
There is no consensus either as to where the name Jolly Roger came from. Some historians believe that it originated in the 1600s when some French mariners began calling the red flag le joli rouge, or “pretty red” in French. Other pirate historians believe it originated in English, as in the 1600s “roger” was a term for a vagabond or a vagrant, and “Jolly Roger” referred to the vagabonds of the sea. Still others tie it to the early-seventeenth-century term “old Roger” as a name for the Devil and believe that a Jolly Roger flag sent the message that anyone who resisted the pirates would incur the wrath of the Devil.
This illustration from Daniel Defoe’s General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates, published in 1724, shows the pirate Stede Bonnet gazing out at his ship, which is flying a Jolly Roger. Bonnet, unlike almost all other pirates, came from a wealthy family and went on the account not for money but for the sheer adventure of it.
Beginning in the late 1600s, reputation-conscious pirate captains, intent on having everyone know exactly who they were, began to personalize their flags by adding symbols. Common symbols were skeletons, daggers, and cutlasses, all meant to convey death to those who did not surrender immediately. A pierced heart warned that no mercy would be shown to anyone who resisted. An hourglass meant that time was running out for the victims. Even more common than these symbols, however, was a skull with crossed bones beneath it.
The skull and crossed bones were so popular that they became the symbol with which pirates are associated to this day. Some pirate flags, however, suggest that their captains considered the skull and crossbones much too simple a design. Blackbeard flew a flag incorporating not one but several of the common symbols: a skeleton holding an hourglass, as well as a human heart impaled on a spear. The skeleton, as it was on other pirate flags, is horned, signifying that it is in league with the Devil.
Captain Bartholomew “Black Bart” Roberts provided a powerful example of how effective individual pirate flags could be. In June 1720, Black Bart sailed into the harbor at Trepassey, Newfoundland. He was flying his distinctive flag, which bore the image of a pirate and a spearholding skeleton clutching an hourglass between them. Although he had no idea that there were twenty-two ships anchored at Trepassey, as soon as his flag was spotted, the crews of all twenty-two vessels abandoned their ships and fled in panic.
Once Prince gave in, Bellamy ordered that he anchor the Whydah off Long Island and, within hours, began the task of transferring his huge cargo of booty from the Sultana to the Whydah. The transfer took several days and was a remarkable sight: there, in a remote area of the vast Caribbean, small boats continually traveled back and forth between the two ships, accompanied by shouts from Bellamy and his officers directing where on the Whydah the crew members should place the Sultana’s cargo.
Bellamy and his men always looked forward to discovering what was included in the loot they had just captured. But when they looked in the Whydah’s hold and between its decks, they received the greatest and happiest surprise of their lives.
In the Whydah’s hold, the pirates found hundreds of elephant tusks stacked like cordwood, representing a fortune in ivory alone. Slabs of cinchona, bark used for making quinine, a medicine for curing malaria, were also worth an enormous amount of money. Huge sacks and barrels of valuable sugar, molasses, and indigo plants for making dye filled the rest of the hold.
And between the Whydah’s decks were sacks and sacks of precious gold and silver. Also hidden were rare pieces of African jewelry and bags of gold dust. Most spectacular of all was a magnificent box of East Indian jewels, whose contents, according to one of the pirates, included a ruby the size of a hen’s egg. As Peter Cornelius Hoof, a longtime Bellamy crew member, testified, “The Money taken in the [Whydah], which was reported to Amount to 20000 or 30000 Pounds, was counted over in the cabin, and put up in bags, Fifty Pounds to every Man’s share, there being 180 Men on Board.” When distributed, that was enough money to last most pirates a lifetime.
When all of the booty had been transferred, Bellamy, as was his custom, gave Captain Prince’s crew the option of joining the pirates. A dozen men accepted the offer. At the same time, the young reluctant carpenter Thomas Davis reminded Bellamy that he had been promised eventual release. But once again the crew outvoted their captain’s proposal to release the carpenter, with one pirate exclaiming that they “would first shoot him or whip him to Death at the Mast” before letting him leave.
The only question remaining was what to do with Captain Prince and the loyal members of his crew. Bellamy was grateful to Prince for surrendering so peacefully, keeping the Whydah and its extraordinary cargo from jeopardy. Black Sam was overjoyed to have acquired his ideal flagship and a booty far beyond anything he had ever imagined. So it was no surprise that he gave Prince the Sultana and told him that he and his crew were free to go.
They were no sooner out of sight than Bellamy began making physical changes to the Whydah. First, he had his crew remove the long platform on top of the pilot’s cabin upon which many slaves had made the horrific journey from Africa to the Caribbean. Then, in order to make the Whydah even faster, they took down the forecastle, a structure in the ship’s bow, where some of the slave ship’s crew had been quartered. It was tall and bulky and its weight reduced the maximum speed the Whydah could attain. So, too, did the pilot’s cabin and the quarterdeck, a raised deck behind the mainmast, both of which were also removed. Bellamy also had his men strip off the lead sheathing that covered the ship’s hull and was designed to protect the vessel in the event of a collision with another ship. Bellamy hated to see it go, but he knew the Whydah was quicker and more maneuverable without it, and he felt it was a sacrifice he needed to make.
In addition, ten cannons were added to the ship, giving it twenty-eight large guns in all, an amazing number for a nonmilitary vessel. The Whydah’s dramatic transformation from a slave ship to one of the most formidable and speedy pirate vessels in history was complete.
THE WHYDAH had always been an extraordinary vessel. Now it was being manned by an extraordinary crew. They had gone on the account for the same reasons that almost all pirates in the late 1600s and the first decades of the 1700s had done so: a lack of better options. Europe was ruled by tyrannical kings and queens whose word was law. Ordinary people had no say in how things were done. More than half of the populations of countries like England were desperately poor — so poor that children as young as five were forced to work, usually in mining or manufacturing.
In desperation, many men chose to attempt to earn a living at sea on naval vessels or merchant ships. Most learned that it was an even harsher life than the one they had experienced on land. Some sea captains and their officers were sadistic individuals who delighted in inflicting the cruelest punishments imaginable on their crews. One of their favorite punishment methods was keelhauling, which entailed tying the sailor to a line looped under the ship, throwing him overboard, and hauling him from one side to the other, along the barnacle-encrusted hull, resulting in injuries and sometimes drowning.
The most common and most feared form of punishment, however,
was flogging. Sailors were brutally beaten with a whip made of nine knotted ropes called a cat-o’-nine tails. British naval captains in particular did not hesitate to dole out up to one hundred lashes. Official records reveal that English sailors were flogged to death for crimes as minor as being late for an assignment or losing an oar. When their ships were captured by pirates, many sailors were all too willing to abandon the captains and officers who had treated them so cruelly, including feeding them rotten and worm-infested food, and join the pirates.
Escaping the horrendous conditions on merchant ships was not, however, the main reason that men became pirates. For many, the biggest reason to turn to piracy was the desire to be free men — to belong to no nation, to no master, to no one but themselves. Pirate historian Ken Kinkor put it this way: “Many would have seen the pirates as scoundrels pure and simple. I take a different approach. . . . If we look at the pattern of European society of the period, we are compelled to conclude that these men were not simple robbers, rather they were acting rightly or wrongly against social grievances.” In Kinkor’s view, pirates were “a subculture held together by a common spirit of revolt.” Whether it was in the person of a king or a queen, or a merchant ship captain or a naval officer, pirates hated authority.
Aside from their desire to be free of authority, many sailors were drawn to piracy by the lure of money. An English seaman in the early 1700s was paid about 1 pound sterling a month ($200 in today’s money), hardly enough to get by on. When they left the sea, they could not expect to earn much more on land. Piracy could change their fortunes dramatically. Each man on a pirate vessel received at least one share of the ship’s plunder. In the late 1600s and the first decades of the 1700s, many pirate ships returned with booty plentiful enough that one share of it amounted to double the annual income of most London bankers and merchants — and equal to the annual income of many of the wealthiest people in England. It was, in fact, enough to allow a pirate to retire in comfort if he chose.
Historical documents indicate that pirate ships were the only vessels on which men of color were treated as equal members of the crew, and although records vary, it is safe to say that as many as fifty black crewmen served aboard the Whydah. Although the Whydah and other ships taken by Bellamy had transported slaves, nothing in the records indicates that his black crew had been on those ships as slaves. Most likely they were free blacks who fully understood how fortunate they were to be on a ship like the Whydah, one of the few places at sea or ashore where black men and white men were treated equally.
The ranks of the many men and a few women who in the 1600s and early 1700s became pirates included people from many different walks of life. Some were indentured servants who had run away; others were prisoners of war who had somehow managed to escape from the ship that was carrying them when it put into port; still others were young men looking for adventure. A large number of sailors, like Sam Bellamy, became pirates when they were released by the navy after the long War of the Spanish Succession. As a government official in the Bahamas proclaimed, “War is no sooner ended but the West Indies always swarms with pirates.”
As much as they cherished being free spirits, pirates recognized that for a pirate ship to function effectively, it had to have a command structure. The Whydah was no exception. At the top was the captain. Among his many jobs was that of inspiring his men to perform to the best of their abilities and to never lose heart, particularly when the going got the toughest. He was also responsible for recruiting men from the ships he captured who could perform specific duties on his ship. To do this took an eloquent speaker, and there was no more eloquent or persuasive pirate captain than Black Sam Bellamy.
The second-in-command on a pirate vessel, the man on whom every pirate captain most relied, was the quartermaster. Like the captain, he was voted in by the crew and could be voted out at any time. The quartermaster was in charge of the day-to-day operations of the ship, and it was his responsibility to see that the captain’s orders were carried out. It was also up to him to settle any disputes that arose between members of the crew.
The quartermaster also had responsibilities during a raid. He was the first to board prize ships. He chose the plunder that was to be taken and what was to be left behind. And he decided how the booty was to be divided among the crew, while obeying the guidelines established by the Articles of Agreement.
In addition, the quartermaster was responsible for punishing crew members for offenses large and small. Minor offenses included quarreling, abusing prisoners, and failing to keep one’s weapons clean. The most serious crimes included disobeying the captain’s orders, stealing from the crew, abandoning one’s post in battle, deserting the ship, and murdering a fellow pirate. While the quartermaster immediately shot any deserter who was caught, those who were charged with other serious offenses were tried by their fellow pirates, who, on finding a crewmate guilty, determined the punishment to be carried out by the quartermaster.
Those convicted of serious offenses faced the same harsh treatment that so many of them had experienced in their past lives as merchant seamen or members of the navy, including flogging and keelhauling. The most brutal punishment was marooning. The disgraced pirate was placed on a deserted island and then abandoned without food, water, or shelter. All he was given was a pistol with which, if he preferred, he could kill himself before starving to death.
The Whydah’s quartermaster, Richard Noland, was a man perfectly suited for the job. He had begun his pirate career by sailing from his Irish homeland with Captain Ben Hornigold and had learned many of the pirate ways from that master teacher. He had an even temper, an eye for detail, and the ability to persuade others to do what he believed needed to be done — all important qualities for a quartermaster. Unlike most pirates, Noland could read and write and add and subtract — important skills for keeping track of and distributing the plunder.
Like the quartermaster, the boatswain was elected by the crew. He was in charge of keeping the ship in shape for travel or battle. Specifically, he made sure that the canvas, lines, and wood throughout the ship were in perfect condition and properly maintained. He supervised the crew as they set and lowered the sails; worked in the ropes, called rigging, that controlled the sails high above the deck; and lowered and raised the anchors. The boatswain also led parties ashore when supplies were needed.
The Whydah’s boatswain was another Irishman, Jeremiah Burke. One of the most experienced mariners on board, Burke had more than thirty years at sea, giving him the confidence necessary to effectively supervise the crew.
Along with Noland and Burke, Sam Bellamy counted himself lucky to have Englishman John Lambert aboard as sailing master, or navigator. During the golden age of piracy, navigational instruments were still primitive. Trained navigators and accurate sailing charts were rare. Lambert was skilled at navigating by the stars, and when the Whydah counted accurate sailing maps and charts among the booty it took from captured vessels, Lambert had the skills needed to read them and use them to the Whydah’s advantage. The Whydah’s pilot, a Miskito Indian named John Julian, was responsible for helping Lambert navigate through particularly unfamiliar waters. Julian was one of the first and also one of the youngest pirates that Bellamy recruited. Records of his birthplace are contradictory. Some state that he was born in either Honduras or Nicaragua, both home to the Miskito people. Others refer to him as “an Indian born at Cape Codd.” Julian was only sixteen years old when he became the Whydah’s pilot.
Bellamy and his men were fortunate also to have a skilled and experienced physician on board. A doctor on a pirate ship had to be a medical jack-of-all-trades. Pirates fought often, both with their victims and among themselves. A pirate physician, working in an age before anesthesia, antiseptics, and antibiotics, had to be able to quickly amputate a limb and then cauterize the wound with a red-hot ax head (imagine how the patient felt!). He had to treat a host of diseases that pirates often contracted, including scurvy and malaria. The Whydah’s docto
r, James Ferguson, had worked with Sam Bellamy since 1716, when he joined the crew of the Marianne as its doctor. Like so many others, Ferguson’s hatred of authority had driven him to become a pirate. He had gone on the account after taking part in an unsuccessful rebellion against England’s King George I. Although the record is not clear, Ferguson may have turned to piracy to escape punishment for having participated in the failed revolt.
Another specialist on the Whydah was John Brown, in charge of the enormous number of ropes, called lines, on the vessel. Like Dr. Ferguson, Brown had been with Bellamy since the Marianne had been his flagship. The unwilling pirate Tom Davis, the carpenter who was forced aboard the Whydah, was responsible for repairing damage done to the ship in battle and for maintaining the masts and yardarms.
The most popular of all the specialists on almost every pirate ship, including the Whydah, were the members of the vessel’s orchestra. Made up of trumpeters, pipers, drummers, fiddlers, harpists, and flutists, the orchestra played for the pirates’ enjoyment during their meals and in the evening. They performed a combat role as well. During a battle or while the ship’s boarding party was invading a prize vessel, they played loud, aggressive-sounding music to intimidate the enemy and urge on their fellow pirates.
Perhaps more than any other place in the world at that time, a pirate ship functioned as a democracy. As underwater explorer Barry Clifford, who has played a premier role in the twentieth-century chapter of the Whydah’s saga, has explained, “It’s the story of people who were outlaws but practiced a democracy where former slaves could be elected captains and officers and crew members were treated equally.”
The Whydah Page 3