A General History of the Pirates

None of these bold adventurers were ever so much talked of, for a while, as Avery; he made as great a noise in the world as Meriveis does now, and was looked upon to be a person of as great consequence; he was represented in Europe, as one that had raised himself to the dignity of a king, and was likely to be the founder of a new monarchy; having, as it was said, taken immense riches, and married the great mogul’s daughter, who was taken in an Indian ship, which fell into his hands; and that he had by her many children, living in great royalty and state; that he had built forts, erected magazines, and was master of a stout squadron of ships, mann’d with able and desperate fellows of all nations; that he gave commissions out in his own name to the captains of his ships, and to the commanders of his forts, and was acknowledged by them as their prince. a play was writ upon him, called, The Successful Pirate; and, these accounts obtained such belief, that several schemes were offered to the council for fitting out a squadron to take him; while others were for offering him and his companions an act of grace, and inviting them to England, with all their treasure, lest his growing greatness might hinder the trade of Europe to the East Indies.

Yet all these were no more than false rumours, improved by the credulity of some, and the humour of others who love to tell strange things; for, while it was said, he was aspiring at a crown, he wanted a shilling; and at the same time it was given out he was in possession of such prodigious wealth in Madagascar, he was starving in England.

The captain, who by this time, was awaked, either by the motion of the ship, or the noise of working the tackles, rung the bell; Avery and two others went into the cabin; the captain, half asleep, and in a kind of fright, ask’d, what was the matter? Avery answered cooly, nothing; the captain replied, something’s the matter with the ship, does she drive? What weather is it? Thinking nothing less then that it had been a storm, and that the ship was driven from her anchors: no, no, answered Avery, we’re at sea, with a fair wind and good weather. At sea! says the captain, How can that be? Come, says Avery, don’t be in a fright, but put on your clothes, and I’ll let you into a secret:⁠—You must know, that I am captain of this ship now, and this is my cabin, therefore you must walk out; I am bound to Madagascar, with a design of making my own fortune, and that of all the brave fellows joined with me.

The captain having a little recovered his senses, began to apprehend the meaning; however, his fright was as great as before, which Avery perceiving, bade him fear nothing, for, says he, if you have a mind to make one of us, we will receive you, and if you’ll turn sober, and mind your business, perhaps in time I may make you one of my lieutenants, if not, here’s a boat alongside, and you shall be set ashore.

Plutarch, and other grave historians have taken notice, that several great men amongst the Romans, took their surnames from certain odd marks in their countenances; as Cicero, from a mark or vetch on his nose; so our hero, Captain Teach, assumed the cognomen of Blackbeard, from that large quantity of hair, which, like a frightful meteor, covered his whole face, and frightened America more than any comet that has appeared there a long time.

This beard was black, which he suffered to grow of an extravagant length; as to breadth, it came up to his eyes; he was accustomed to twist it with ribbons, in small tails, after the manner of our Ramillies wigs, and turn them about his ears: in time of action, he wore a sling over his shoulders, with three brace of pistols, hanging in holsters like bandoliers; and stuck lighted matches under his hat, which appearing on each side of his face, his eyes naturally looking fierce and wild, made him altogether such a figure, that imagination cannot form an idea of a fury, from hell, to look more frightful.

If he had the look of a fury, his humours and passions were suitable to it; we shall relate two or three more of his extravagancies, which we omitted in the body of his history, by which it will appear, to what a pitch of wickedness, human nature may arrive, if it’s passions are not checked.

Mary Read was born in England, her mother was married young, to a man who used the sea, who going a-voyage soon after their marriage, left her with child, which child proved to be a boy. As to the husband, whether he was cast away, or died in the voyage, Mary Read could not tell; but however, he never returned more; nevertheless, the mother, who was young and airy, met with an accident, which has often happened to women who are young, and do not take a great deal of care; which was, she soon proved with child again, without a husband to father it, but how, or by whom, none but herself could tell, for she carried a pretty good reputation among her neighbours. Finding her burden grow, in order to conceal her shame, she takes a formal leave of her husband’s relations, giving out, that she went to live with some friends of her own, in the country: accordingly she went away, and carried with her her young son, at this time, not a year old: soon after her departure her son died, but providence in return, was pleased to give her a girl in his room, of which she was safely delivered, in her retreat, and this was our Mary Read.

All the prisoners pleaded for arrest of judgment very movingly, but the court had such an abhorrence of their crime, that they could not be prevailed upon to show mercy, till one of the judges, whose name was Valentine Ashplant, stood up, and taking his pipe out of his mouth, said, he had something to offer to the court in behalf of one of the prisoners; and spoke to this effect.⁠—By G⁠⸺, Glasby shall not die; d⁠⸺⁠n me if he shall. After this learned speech, he sat down in his place, and resumed his pipe. This motion was loudly opposed by all the rest of the judges, in equivalent terms; but Ashplant, who was resolute in his opinion, made another pathetical speech in the following manner. G‑d⁠⸺n ye gentlemen, I am as good a man as the best of you; d⁠⸺⁠m my s⁠⸺⁠l if ever I turned my back to any man in my life, or ever will, by G⁠⸺; Glasby is an honest fellow, notwithstanding this misfortune, and I love him, D⁠⸺⁠l d⁠⸺⁠n me if I don’t: I hope he’ll live and repent of what he has done; but d⁠⸺⁠n me if he must die, I will die along with him. And thereupon, he pulled out a pair of pistols, and presented them to some of the learned judges upon the bench; who, perceiving his argument so well supported, thought it reasonable that Glasby should be acquitted; and so they all came over to his opinion, and allowed it to be law.