THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO 
 DALLAS • ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 
 
 LONDON • BOMBAY 'CALCUTTA 
 MELBOURNE 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 
 
 TORONTO 
 
A MAINSAIL 
 HAUL 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN MASEFIELD 
 
 i?eto gorfe 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 1913 
 
Copyright, 1013 
 By JOHN MASEFIELD 
 
 Set up and electrotyped 
 
 First Published, June 1st, 1905 
 Second Edition, Revised and much Enlarged, September, 1913 
 
 FERRiS PRINTING COMPANY 
 New YOHK. N. Y., U. S. A. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Don Alfonso's Treasure Hunt . . i 
 
 Port of Many Ships 
 
 
 9 
 
 Sea Superstition . 
 
 
 
 14 
 
 A Sailor's Yarn . 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 The Yarn of Lanky Job 
 
 
 
 . 30 
 
 From the Spanish 
 
 
 
 36 
 
 The Seal Man 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 The Western Islands . 
 
 
 
 5i 
 
 Captain John Ward 
 
 
 
 61 
 
 Captain John Jennings 
 
 
 
 85 
 
 The Voyage of the Cygnet 
 
 
 
 , 105 
 
 Captain Robert Knox . 
 
 
 
 124 
 
 Captain John Coxon . 
 
 
 
 . 133 
 
 In a Castle Ruin 
 
 
 
 , 151 
 
 A Deal of Cards . 
 
 
 
 > 157 
 
 The Devil and the Old Mai 
 
 f 
 
 
 . 179 
 
I yarned with ancient shipmen beside the galley range 
 And some were fond of women, but all were fond of 
 
 change ; 
 They sang their quavering chanties, all in a fo'c's'le 
 
 drone, 
 And I was finely suited, if I had only known. 
 
 I rested in an ale-house that had a sanded floor, 
 Where seamen sat a-drinking and chalking up the score ; 
 They yarned of ships and mermaids, of topsail sheets 
 
 and slings, 
 But I was discontented; I looked for better things. 
 
 I heard a drunken fiddler, in Billy Lee's Saloon, 
 I brooked an empty belly with thinking of the tune : 
 I swung the doors disgusted as drunkards rose to dance, 
 And now I know the music was life and life's romance. 
 
 1904 
 
A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 DON ALFONSO'S TREASURE HUNT 
 
 Now in the old days, before steam, there was a 
 young Spanish buck who lived in Trinidad, and 
 his name was Don Alfonso. Now Trinidad is 
 known, in a way of speaking, among sailormen, 
 as Hell's Lid, or Number One Hatch, by reason 
 of its being very hot there. They've a great place 
 there, which they show to folk, where it's like a 
 cauldron of pitch. It bubbles pitch out of the earth, 
 all black and hot, and you see great slimy work- 
 ings, all across, like ropes being coiled inside. And 
 talk about smell there! — talk of brimstone! — why, 
 it's like a cattle-ship gone derelict, that's what that 
 place is like. 
 
 Now by reason of the heat there, the folk of 
 those parts — a lot of Spaniards mostly, Dagoes 
 I 
 
2 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 and that — they don't do nothing but just sit 
 around. When they turn out of a morning they 
 get some yellow paper and some leaf tobacco, and 
 they rolls what they calls cigarellers and sticks 
 them in their ears like pens. That's their day's 
 work, that is — rolling them yellow cigarellers. 
 Well, then, they set around and they smokes — 
 big men, too, most of them — and they put flowers 
 in their hats — red roses and that — and that's how 
 they pass their time. 
 
 Now this Don Alfonso he was a terror, he was; 
 for they've got a licker in those parts. If you put 
 some of it on a piece of paint-work — and this is 
 gospel that I'm giving you — that paint it comes 
 off like you was using turps. Now Don Alfonso 
 he was a terror at that licker — and that's the sort 
 of Dago-boy Alfonso was. 
 
 Now Alfonso's mother was a widow, and he was 
 her only child, like in the play. 
 
 Now one time, when Don Alfonso was in the 
 pulperia (that's Spanish for grog-shop), he was 
 a-bluin' down that licker the same as you or I 
 would be bluin' beer. And there was a gang of 
 Dagoes there, and all of them chewing the rag, 
 
DON ALFONSO'S TREASURE HUNT 3 
 
 and all of them going for the vino — that's the 
 Spanish name for wine — v-i-n-o. It's red wine, 
 vino is ; they give it you in port to save water. 
 
 Now among them fancy Dagoes there was a 
 young Eye-talian who'd been treasure-hunting, 
 looking for buried treasure, in that Blue Nose 
 ship which went among the islands. Looking for 
 gold, he'd been, gold that was buried by the 
 pirates. They're a gay crew, them Blue Nose 
 fellers. What'd the pirates bury treasure for? 
 Not them. It stands to reason. Did you ever see 
 a shellback go reeving his dollars down a rabbit- 
 warren? It stands to reason. Golden dollar coins 
 indeed. Bury them customs fellers if you like. 
 Now this young Dago, he was coming it proud 
 about that treasure. In one of them Tortugas, he 
 was saying, or off the Chagres, or if not there 
 among them smelly Samballs, there's tons of it 
 lying in a foot of sand with a skellinton on the top. 
 They used to kill a nigger, he was saying, when 
 they buried their blunt, so's his ghost would keep 
 away thieves. There's a sight of thieves, ain't 
 there, in them smelly Samballs? An' niggers ain't 
 got no ghosts, not that I ever heard. 
 
4 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 Oh, he was getting gay about that buried 
 treasure. Gold there was, and silver dollars and 
 golden jewels, and I don't know what all. "And 
 I knows the place," he says, "where it's all lying," 
 and out he pulls a chart with a red crost on it, 
 like in them Deadwood Dicky books. And what 
 with the vino and that there licker, he got them 
 Dagoes strung on a line. So the end of it was 
 that Don Alfonso he came down with the blunt. 
 And that gang of Dagoes they charters a brigantine 
 — she'd a Bible name to her, as is these Dagoes' way 
 — and off they sails a galley-vaunting looking for 
 gold with a skellinton on the top. Now one dusk, 
 just as they was getting out the lamps and going 
 forward with the kettle, they spies a land ahead 
 and sings out "Land, O!" By dark they was 
 within a mile of shore, hove-to off a light-house 
 that was burning a red flare. Now the old man 
 he comes to Alfonso, and he says, "I dunno what 
 land this may be. There's no land due to us this 
 week by my account. And that red flare there; 
 there's no light burning a flare nearer here than 
 Sydney." "Let go your anchor," says Don Alfonso, 
 "for land there is, and where there's land there's 
 
DON ALFONSO'S TREASURE HUNT 5 
 
 rum. And lower away your dinghy, for I'm going 
 in for a drink. You can take her in, mister, with 
 two of the hands, and then lay aboard till I 
 whistle." So they lower the dinghy, and Don 
 Alfonso takes some cigarellers, and ashore he goes 
 for that there licker. 
 
 Now when he sets foot ashore, and the boat was 
 gone off, Don Alfonso he walks up the quay in 
 search of a pulperia. And it was a strange land 
 he was in, and that's the truth. Quiet it was, 
 and the little white houses still as corfins, and 
 only a lamp or two burning, and never a sound 
 nor a song. Oh, a glad lad was Don Alfonso when 
 he sees a nice little calaboosa lying to leeward, 
 with a red lamp burning in the stoop. So in he 
 goes for a dram — into the grog-house, into a little 
 room with a fire lit and a little red man behind the 
 bar. Now it was a caution was that there room, 
 for instead of there bein' casks like beer or vino 
 casks, there was only corfins. And the little red 
 man he gives a grin, and he gives the glad hand 
 to Don Alfonso, and he sets them up along the 
 bar, and Alfonso lights a cigareller. So then the 
 Don drinks, and the little red man says, "Salue." 
 
6 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 And the little red man drinks, and Alfonso says, 
 "Drink hearty." And then they drinks two and 
 two together. Then Alfonso sings some sort of a 
 Dago song, and the little red man he plays a tune 
 on the bones, and then they sets them up again 
 and has more bones and more singing. Then 
 Alfonso says, "It's time I was gettin' aboard"; 
 but the little man says, "Oh, it's early days yet — 
 the licker lies with you." So every time Alfonso 
 tries to go, the little red man says that. Till at 
 last, at dawn, the little red man turned into a little 
 red cock and crowed like a cock in the ox yard. 
 And immejitly the corfins all burst into skellintons, 
 and the bar broke into bits, and the licker blew up 
 like corpse-lights — like blue fire, the same as in 
 the scripters. And the next thing Don Alfonso 
 knowed he was lying on the beach with a head 
 on him full of mill-wheels and the mill working 
 overtime. 
 
 So he gets up and sticks his head in the surf, 
 and blows his whistle for the boat to come. But 
 not a sign of a boat puts in, and not a sign of a 
 hand shows aboard, neither smoke nor nothin'. 
 So when he'd blew for maybe an hour he sees a 
 
DON ALFONSO'S TREASURE HUNT 7 
 
 old skellinton of a boat lying bilged on the sand. 
 And he went off in her, paddling with the rud- 
 der, and he got alongside before she actually 
 sank. 
 
 Now, when he gets alongside, that there brigan- 
 tine was all rusty and rotted and all grown green 
 with grass. And flowers were growing on the 
 deck, and barnacles were a foot thick below the 
 water. The gulls had nested in her sails, and the 
 ropes drifted in the wind like flags, and a big red 
 rose-bush was twisted up the tiller. And there in 
 the grass, with daisies and such, were the lanky 
 white bones of all them Dagoes. They lay where 
 they'd died, with the vino casks near by and a 
 pannikin of tin that they'd been using as a dice- 
 box. They was dead white bones, the whole crew 
 — dead of waiting for Don Alfonso while he was 
 drinking with the little red man. 
 
 So Don Alfonso he kneels and he prays, and "Oh," 
 he says, "that I might die too, and me the cause 
 of these here whited bones, and all from my love 
 of licker ! Never again will I touch rum," he says. 
 "If I reach home," he says — he was praying, you 
 must mind — "you'll see I never will." And he 
 
8 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 hacks through the cable with an axe and runs up 
 the rotten jib by pully-hauly. 
 
 Long he was sailing, living on dew and gulls' 
 eggs, sailing with them white bones in that there 
 blossoming old hulk. But at long last he comes 
 to Port of Spain and signals for a pilot, and brings 
 up just as sun was sinking. Thirty long years had 
 he been gone, and he was an old man when he 
 brought the whited bones home. But his old mother 
 was alive, and they lived happily ever after. But 
 never any licker would he drink, except only dew 
 or milk — he was that changed from what he was. 
 
PORT OF MANY SHIPS 
 
 PORT OF MANY SHIPS 
 
 "Down in the sea, very far down, under five miles 
 of water, somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, there 
 is a sea cave, all roofed with coral. There is a 
 brightness in the cave, although it is so far below 
 the sea. And in the light there the great sea-snake 
 is coiled in immense blue coils, with a crown of 
 gold upon his horned head. He sits there very 
 patiently from year to year, making the water 
 tremulous with the threshing of his gills. And 
 about him at all times swim the goggle-eyed dumb 
 creatures of the sea. He is the king of all the 
 fishes, and he waits there until the judgment day, 
 when the waters shall pass away for ever and the 
 dim kingdom disappear. At times the coils of his 
 body wreathe themselves, and then the waters 
 above him rage. One folding of his coil will cover 
 a sea with shipwreck; and so it must be until the 
 
io A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 sea and the ships come to an end together in that 
 serpent's death-throe. 
 
 "Now when that happens, when the snake is 
 dying, there will come a lull and a hush, like when 
 the boatswain pipes. And in that time of quiet you 
 will hear a great beating of ships' bells, for in every 
 ship sunken in the sea the life will go leaping to 
 the white bones of the drowned. And every 
 drowned sailor, with the weeds upon him, will 
 spring alive again; and he will start singing and 
 beating on the bells, as he did in life when starting 
 out upon a cruise. And so great and sweet will be 
 the music that they make that you will think little 
 of harps from that time on, my son. 
 
 "Now the coils of the snake will stiffen out, like 
 a rope stretched taut for hauling. His long knobbed 
 horns will droop. His golden crown will roll from 
 his old, tired head. And he will lie there as dead 
 as herring, while the sea will fall calm, like it was 
 before the land appeared, with never a breaker in 
 her. Then the great white whale, old Moby Dick, 
 the king of all the whales, will rise up from his 
 quiet in the sea, and go bellowing to his mates. 
 And all the whales in the world — the sperm-whales, 
 
PORT OF MANY SHIPS n 
 
 the razor-back, the black-fish, the rorque, the 
 right, the forty-barrel Jonah, the narwhal, the 
 hump-back, the grampus and the thrasher — will 
 come to him, 'fin-out,' blowing their spray to the 
 heavens. Then Moby Dick will call the roll of 
 them, and from all the parts of the sea, from the 
 north, from the south, from Callao to Rio, not one 
 whale will be missing. Then Moby Dick will 
 trumpet, like a man blowing a horn, and all that 
 company of whales will 'sound' (that is, dive), for 
 it is they that have the job of raising the wrecks 
 from down below. 
 
 "Then when they come up the sun will just be 
 setting in the sea, far away to the west, like a ball 
 of red fire. And just as the curve of it goes below 
 the sea, it will stop sinking and lie there like a 
 door. And the stars and the earth and the wind 
 will stop. And there will be nothing but the sea, 
 and this red arch of the sun, and the whales with 
 the wrecks, and a stream of light upon the water. 
 Each whale will have raised a wreck from among 
 the coral, and the sea will be thick with them — 
 row-ships and sail-ships, and great big seventy- 
 fours, and big White Star boats, and battleships, 
 
12 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 all of them green with the ooze, but all of them 
 manned by singing sailors. And ahead of them 
 will go Moby Dick, towing the ship our Lord was 
 in, with all the sweet apostles aboard of her. And 
 Moby Dick will give a great bellow, like a fog-horn 
 blowing, and stretch 'fin-out' for the sun away in 
 the west. And all the whales will bellow out an 
 answer. And all the drowned sailors will sing their 
 chanties, and beat the bells into a music. And the 
 whole fleet of them will start towing at full speed 
 towards the sun, at the edge of the sky and water. 
 I tell you they will make white water, those ships 
 and fishes. 
 
 "When they have got to where the sun is, the 
 red ball will swing open like a door, and Moby 
 Dick, and all the whales, and all the ships will rush 
 through it into an anchorage in Kingdom Come. 
 It will be a great calm piece of water, with land 
 close aboard, where all the ships of the world will 
 lie at anchor, tier upon tier, with the hands gathered 
 forward, singing. They'll have no watches to stand, 
 no ropes to coil, no mates to knock their heads in. 
 Nothing will be to do except singing and beating 
 on the bell. And all the poor sailors who went in 
 
PORT OF MANY SHIPS 13 
 
 patched rags, my son, they'll be all fine in white 
 and gold. And ashore, among the palm-trees, there'll 
 be fine inns for the seamen, where you and I, maybe, 
 will meet again, and I spin yarns, maybe, with no 
 cause to stop until the bell goes." 
 
14 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 SEA SUPERSTITION 
 
 One moonlit night in the tropics, as my ship was 
 slipping south under all sail, I was put to walking 
 the deck on the lee side of the poop, with orders to 
 watch the ship's clock and strike the bell at each 
 half-hour. It was a duty I had done nightly for 
 many nights, but this night was memorable to me. 
 The ship was like a thing carved of pearl. The 
 sailors, as they lay sleeping in the shadows, were 
 like august things in bronze. And the skies seemed 
 so near me, I felt as though we were sailing under 
 a roof of dim branches, as of trees, that bore the 
 moon and the stars like shining fruits. 
 
 Gradually, however, the peace in my heart gave 
 way to an eating melancholy, and I felt a sadness, 
 such as has come to me but twice in my life. 
 With the sadness there came a horror of the water 
 and of the skies, till my presence in that ship, un- 
 der the ghastly corpse-light of the moon, among 
 
SEA SUPERSTITION 15 
 
 that sea, was a terror to me past power of words 
 to tell. I went to the ship's rail, and shut my eyes 
 for a moment, and then opened them to look down 
 upon the water rushing past. I had shut my eyes 
 upon the sea, but when I opened them I looked 
 upon the forms of the sea-spirits. The water was 
 indeed there, hurrying aft as the ship cut through; 
 but in the bright foam for far about the ship I saw 
 multitudes of beautiful, inviting faces that had an 
 eagerness and a swiftness in them unlike the speed 
 or the intensity of human beings. I remember 
 thinking that I had never seen anything of such 
 passionate beauty as those faces, and as I looked 
 at them my melancholy fell away like a rag. I felt 
 a longing to fling myself over the rail, so as to be 
 with that inhuman beauty. Yet even as I looked 
 that beauty became terrible, as the night had been 
 terrible but a few seconds before. And with the 
 changing of my emotions the faces changed. They 
 became writhelled and hag-like: and in the leaping 
 of the water, as we rushed, I saw malevolent white 
 hands that plucked and snapped at me. I remember 
 I was afraid to go near the rail again before the day 
 dawned. 
 
16 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 Not very long after that night, when I was sit- 
 ting with a Danish sailor who was all broken on 
 the wheel of his vices and not far from his death, 
 I talked about the sea-spirits and their beauty and 
 their wildness, feeling that such a haunted soul as 
 my companion's would have room in its crannies 
 for such wild birds. He told me much that was 
 horrible about the ghosts who throng the seas. And 
 it was he who gave me the old myth of the sea- 
 gulls, telling me that the souls of old sailors fol- 
 low the sea, in birds' bodies, till they have served 
 their apprenticeship or purged their years of peni- 
 tence. He told me of two sailors in a Norway 
 barque, though I believe he lied when he said that 
 he was aboard her at the time, who illustrated his 
 sermon very aptly. The barque was going south 
 from San Francisco, bound home round the Horn, 
 and the two men were in the same watch. Some- 
 how they fell to quarrelling as to which was the 
 better dancer, and the one killed the other and 
 flung him overboard during one of the night 
 watches. The dead body did not sink, said my 
 friend, because no body dares to sink to the under- 
 sea during the night-time; but in the dawn of the 
 
SEA SUPERSTITION 17 
 
 next day, and at the dawn of each day till the 
 barque reached Norway, a white gull flew at the 
 slayer, crying the cry of the gulls. It was the dead 
 man's soul, my friend said, getting her revenge. 
 The slayer gave himself up on his arrival at the 
 home port, and took poison while awaiting trial. 
 
 When he had told me this tale, the Dane called 
 for a tot of the raw spirits of that land, though he 
 must have known, he being so old a sailor, that 
 drink was poison to him. When he had swallowed 
 the liquor, he began a story of one of his voyages 
 to the States. He said that he was in a little 
 English ship coming from New York to Hamburg, 
 and that the ship — the winds being westerly — was 
 making heavy running, under upper topsails, 
 nearly all the voyage. When he was at the wheel 
 with his mate (for two men steered in the pitch and 
 hurry of that sailing) he was given to looking 
 astern at the huge comber known as "the follow- 
 ing sea," which topples up, green and grisly, astern 
 of every ship with the wind aft. The sight of that 
 water has a fascination for all men, and it fasci- 
 nated him, he said, till he thought he saw in the 
 shaking wave the image of an old halt man who 
 
18 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 came limping, bent on a crutch, in the ship's wake. 
 So vivid was the image of that cripple, he leaned 
 across the wheel-box to his mate, bidding him to 
 look; and his mate looked, and immediately went 
 white to the lips, calling to the saints to preserve 
 him. My friend then told me that the cripple only 
 appears to ships foredoomed to shipwreck, "And," 
 he said, "we were run down in the Channel and 
 sunk in ten minutes" by a clumsy tramp from 
 London. 
 
 After a while I left that country in a steamer 
 whose sailors were of nearly every nation under 
 the sun, and from a Portuguese aboard her I got 
 another yarn. In the night watches, when I was 
 alone on the poop, I used to lean on the taffrail to 
 see the water reeling away from the screws. 
 While loafing in this way one night, a little while 
 before the dawn, I was joined by the Portuguese, 
 an elderly, wizened fellow, who wore earrings. 
 He said he had often seen me leaning over the 
 taffrail, and had come to warn me that there was 
 danger in looking upon the sea in that way. Men 
 who looked into the water, he told me, would at 
 first see only the bubbles, and the eddies, and the 
 
SEA SUPERSTITION 19 
 
 foam. Then they would see dim pictures of them- 
 selves and of the ship. But at the last they always 
 saw some unholy thing, and the unholy thing would 
 lure them away to death. And it was a danger, he 
 said, no young man should face, for though the 
 other evil spirits, those of the earth and air, had 
 power only upon the body, the evil spirits of the 
 sea were deadly to the soul. There was a lad he 
 had known in Lisbon who had gone along the coast 
 in a brig, and this lad was always looking into the 
 sea, and had at last seen the unholy things and 
 flung his body to them across the rail. The brig 
 was too near the coast, and it blew too freshly in- 
 shore, for the sailors to round-to to pick him up. 
 But they found the lad in Lisbon when they got 
 home. He said he had sunken down into the sea, 
 till the sea opened about him and showed him a 
 path among a field of green corn. He had gone up 
 the path and come at last to a beautiful woman, 
 surrounded by many beautiful women, but the one 
 seemed to him to be the queen. She was so beauti- 
 ful, he said, the sight of her was like strong wine; 
 but she shook her head when she saw him, as 
 though she could never give him her love, and 
 
20 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 immediately he was at the surface, under the skies, 
 struggling towards some rocks a little distance 
 from him. He reached the shore and went home 
 to Lisbon in a fisher-boat, but he was never quite 
 sane after seeing that beauty beneath the sea. He 
 became very melancholy, and used to go down the 
 Tagus in a row-boat, singing to himself and look- 
 ing down into the water. 
 
 Before I left that ship I had to help clean her for 
 her decent entry to the Mersey. I spent one after- 
 noon with an old man from the Clyde doing up 
 some ironwork, first with rope yarn and paraffin, 
 then with red lead. The mate left us to ourselves 
 all the watch, because the old man was trusty, and 
 we had a fine yarn together about the things of the 
 sea. He said that there were some who believed 
 in the white whale, though it was all folly their 
 calling him the king of all the fishes. The white 
 whale was nothing but a servant, and lay low, 
 ''somewhere nigh the Poles/' till the last day 
 dawned. And then, said the old man, "he's a 
 busy man raising the wrecks." When I asked him 
 who was the king of all the fishes, he looked about 
 to see that there were no listeners, and said, in a 
 
SEA SUPERSTITION 21 
 
 very earnest voice, that the king of the fish was the 
 sea-serpent. He lies coiled, said the old man, in 
 the hot waters of the Gulf, with a gold crown on 
 his head, and a "great sleep upon him," waiting 
 till the setting of the last sun. "And then?" I 
 asked. "Ah, then," he answered, "there'll be fine 
 times going for us sailors." 
 
22 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 A SAILOR'S YARN 
 
 "Once upon a time there was a clipper ship called 
 the Mary, and she was lying in Panama waiting 
 for a freight. It was hot, and it was calm, and it 
 was hazy, and the men aboard her were dead sick 
 of the sight of her. They had been lying there 
 all the summer, having nothing to do but to wash 
 her down, and scrape the royal masts with glass, 
 and make the chain cables bright. And aboard of 
 her was a big A.B. from Liverpool, with a tattooed 
 chest on him and an arm like a spar. And this 
 man's name was Bill. 
 
 "Now, one day, while the captain of this clipper 
 was sunning in the club, there came a merchant 
 to him offering him a fine freight home and 'des- 
 patch' in loading. So the old man went aboard 
 that evening in a merry temper, and bade the 
 mates rastle the hands aft. He told them that 
 they could go ashore the next morning for a 
 
A SAILOR'S YARN 23 
 
 'liberty-day' of four-and-twenty hours, with twenty 
 dollars pay to blue, and no questions asked if they 
 came aboard drunk. So forward goes all hands 
 merrily, to rout out their go-ashore things, their 
 red handkerchiefs, and 'sombre-airers,' for to as- 
 tonish the Dons. And ashore they goes the next 
 morning, after breakfast, with their silver dollars 
 in their fists, and the jolly-boat to take them. And 
 ashore they steps, and 'So long* they says to the 
 young fellows in the boat, and so up the Mole to 
 the beautiful town of Panama. 
 
 "Now the next morning that fellow Bill I told 
 you of was tacking down the city to the boat, sing- 
 ing some song or another. And when he got near 
 to the jetty he went fumbling in his pocket for 
 his pipe, and what should he find but a silver dol- 
 lar that had slipped away and been saved. So he 
 thinks, 'If I go aboard with this dollar, why the 
 hands'll laugh at me; besides, it's a wasting of it 
 not to spend it.' So he cast about for some place 
 where he could blue it in. 
 
 "Now close by where he stood there was a sort 
 of a great store, kept by a Johnny Dago. And if 
 I were to tell you of the things they had in it, I 
 
24 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 would need nine tongues and an oiled hinge to 
 each of them. But Billy "walked into this store, 
 into the space inside, into like the 'tween decks, 
 for to have a look about him before buying. And 
 there were great bunches of bananas a-ripening 
 against the wall. And sacks of dried raisins, and 
 bags of dried figs, and melon seeds, and pome- 
 granates enough to sink you. Then there were 
 cotton bales, and calico, and silk of Persia. And 
 rum in puncheons, and bottled ale. And all man- 
 ner of sweets, and a power of a lot of chemicals. 
 And anchors gone rusty, fished up from the bay 
 after the ships were gone. And spare cables, all 
 ranged for letting go. And ropes, and sails, and 
 balls of marline stuff. Then there was blocks of 
 all kinds, wood and iron. Dunnage there was, and 
 scantling, likewise sea-chests with pictures on them. 
 And casks of beef and pork, and paint, and peas, 
 and peterolium. But for not one of these things 
 did Billy care a handful of bilge. 
 
 "Then there were medical comforts, such as 
 ginger and calavances. And plug tobacco, and coil 
 tobacco, and tobacco leaf, and tobacco clippings. 
 And such a power of a lot of bulls' hides as you 
 
A SAILOR'S YARN 25 
 
 never saw. Likewise there was tinned things like 
 cocoa, and boxed things like China tea. And 
 any quantity of blankets, and rugs, and don- 
 keys' breakfasts. And oilskins there was, and 
 rubber sea-boots, and shore shoes, and Crimee 
 shirts. Also Dungarees, and soap, and matches, 
 so many as you never heard tell. But no, not 
 for one of these things was Bill going for to 
 bargain. 
 
 "Then there were lamps and candles, and 
 knives and nutmeg-graters, and things made of 
 bright tin and saucers of red clay; and rolls of 
 coloured cloth, made in the hills by the Indians. 
 Bowls there were, painted with twisty-whirls by 
 the folk of old time. And flutes from the tombs 
 (of the Incas), and whistles that looked like flower- 
 pots. Also fiddles and beautiful melodeons. Then 
 there were paper roses for ornament, and false 
 white flowers for graves; also paint-brushes and 
 coir-brooms. There were cages full of parrots, 
 both green and grey; and white cockatoos on 
 perches a-nodding their red crests; and Java love- 
 birds a-billing, and parrakeets a-screaming, and 
 little kittens for the ships with rats. And at the 
 
26 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 last of all there was a little monkey, chained 
 to a sack of jib-hanks, who sat upon his tail a-grin- 
 ning. 
 
 "Now Bill he sees this monkey, and he thinks he 
 never see a cuter little beast, not never. And then 
 he thinks of something, and he pipes up to the 
 old Johnny Dago, and he says, pointing to the 
 monkey : 
 
 " 'Hey-a Johnny! How much-a-take-a little 
 munk?' 
 
 "So the old Johnny Dago looks at Bill a spell, 
 and then says: 
 
 " 'I take-a five-a doll' that-a little munk.' 
 
 "So Billy planks down his silver dollar, and 
 says: 
 
 " 'I give-a one doll', you cross-eyed Dago/ 
 
 "Then the old man unchained the monkey, and 
 handed him to Bill without another word. And 
 away the pair of them went, down the Mole to 
 where the boats lay, where a lanchero took them off 
 to the Mary. 
 
 "Now when they got aboard all hands came 
 around Bill, saying: 'Why, Bill, whatever are 
 you going to do with that there little monkey?' 
 
A SAILOR'S YARN 27 
 
 And Bill he said: 'You shut your heads about 
 that there little monkey. I'm going to teach that 
 little monkey how to speak. And when he can 
 speak I'm going to sell him to a museum. And 
 then I'll buy a farm. I won't come to sea any 
 more/ So they just laugh at Bill, and by and by 
 the Mary loaded, and got her hatches on, and 
 sailed south-away, on the road home to Liverpool. 
 
 "Well, every evening, in the dog-watch, after 
 supper, while the decks were drying from the 
 washing-down, Bill used to take the monkey on 
 to the fo'c's'le head, and set him on the capstan. 
 'Well, ye little divvle,' he used to say, 'will ye 
 speak? Are ye going to speak, hey?' and the 
 monkey would just grin and chatter back at Billy, 
 but never no Christian speech came in front of 
 them teeth of his. And this game went on until 
 they were up with the Horn, in bitter cold weather, 
 running east like a stag, with a great sea piling 
 up astern. And then one night, at eight bells, Billy 
 came on deck for the first watch, bringing the 
 monkey with him. It was blowing like sin, stiff 
 and cold, and the Mary was butting through, and 
 dipping her fo'c's'le under. So Bill takes the 
 
28 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 monkey, and lashes him down good and snug on 
 the drum of the capstan, on the fo'c's'le head. 
 'Now, you little divvle,' he said, 'will you speak? 
 Will you speak, eh?' But the monkey just grinned 
 at him. 
 
 "At the end of the first hour he came again. 
 'Are ye going to speak, ye little beggar?' he says, 
 and the monkey sits and shivers, but never a 
 word does the little beggar say. And it was the 
 same at four bells, when the look-out man was 
 relieved. But at six bells Billy came again, and 
 the monkey looked mighty cold, and it was a wet 
 perch where he was roosting, and his teeth chat- 
 tered; yet he didn't speak, not so much as a cat. 
 So just before eight bells, when the watch was 
 nearly out, Billy went forward for the last time. 
 'If he don't speak now,' says Billy, 'overboard he 
 goes for a dumb animal.' 
 
 "Well, the cold green seas had pretty nearly 
 drowned that little monkey. And the sprays had 
 frozen him over like a jacket of ice, and right blue 
 his lips were, and an icicle was a-danglin~ from 
 his chin, and he was shivering like he had an ague. 
 'Well, ye little divvle,' says Billy, 'for the last time, 
 
A SAILOR'S YARN 29 
 
 will ye speak? Are ye going to speak, hey?' And 
 the monkey spoke. 'Speak is it? Speak is it?' he 
 says. 'It's so cold it's enough to make a little fel- 
 low swear.' 
 
 "It's the solemn gospel truth that story is." 
 
30 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 THE YARN OF LANKY JOB 
 
 Lanky Job was a lazy Bristol sailor, notorious for 
 his sleepiness throughout the seven seas. And 
 though many captains had taken him in hand, none 
 had ever made him spryer, or got more than a 
 snail's work out of him. Perhaps he would have 
 been more wakeful had he not been born with a 
 caul, which preserved him at sea from any danger 
 of drowning. Often he had fallen from aloft or 
 from the forecastle rail while dreaming during his 
 work or look-out. But his captains had always 
 paused to pick him up, and to all his captains he 
 had made a graceful speech of thanks which ended 
 with a snore at the ninth or tenth word. 
 
 One day he was lolling on a bollard on the quay 
 at Bristol as fast asleep as man could wish. He 
 had fallen asleep in the forenoon, but when he woke 
 the sun was setting, and right in front of him, 
 moored to the quay, was the most marvellous ship 
 
THE YARN OF LANKY JOB 31 
 
 that ever went through water. She was bluff- 
 bowed and squat, with a great castle in her bows 
 and five poops, no less, one above the other, at 
 her starn. And outside her bulwarks there were 
 painted screens, all scarlet and blue and green, 
 with ships painted on them, and burning birds and 
 ladies in cloth of gold. And then above them 
 were rows of hammocks covered with a white piece 
 of linen. And every little poop had a rail. And 
 her buckets were green, and in every bucket there 
 were roses growing. And the masts were of 
 ebony with mast-rings of silver. And her decks 
 were all done in parquet-work in green and white 
 woods, and the man who did the caulking had 
 caulked the deck-seams with red tar, for he was a 
 master of his trade. And the cabins was all glorious 
 to behold with carving, and sweet to smell, like 
 oranges. And right astern she carried a great gold 
 lantern with a big blue banner underneath it, and 
 an ivory staff to the whole, all carved by a China- 
 man. 
 
 So Job looks at the ship, and he thinks he never 
 see a finer, so he ups alongside, and along a gang- 
 way, and there he sees a little sea captain with a 
 
32 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 big red hat and feather, and a silver whistle to him, 
 walking on the quarter-deck. 
 
 "Good morning, Job," says the little sea captain, 
 "and how dy'ye like my ship ?" 
 
 "Sir," says Job, "I never see a finer." 
 
 So the little sea captain takes Job forrard and 
 gives him a bite in the forecastle, and then takes 
 him aft and gives him a sup in the cabin. 
 
 "And Job," he says, "how would ye like to sail 
 aboard this beautiful ship ?" 
 
 So Job, who was all wide awake with the beauty 
 of her, he says : 
 
 "Oh, sir, I'd like it of all things; she be so comely 
 to see." 
 
 And immediately he said that, Job see the little 
 captain pipe his whistle, and a lot of little sailors in 
 red hats ran up and cast her hawsers off. And then 
 the sheets sheeted home of themselves and the ship 
 swung away from Bristol, and there was Job nod- 
 ding on the quarter-deck, a mile out to sea, the ship 
 running west like a deer. 
 
 "You'll be in the port watch," said the little cap- 
 tain to him, "and woe betide you, Lanky Job, if we 
 catch you asleep in your watch." 
 
THE YARN OF LANKY JOB 33 
 
 Now Job never knowed much about that trip of 
 his among them little men in red hats, but he 
 knowed he slept once, and they stuck needles in 
 him. And he knowed he slept twice, and they 
 stuck hot pokers in him. And he knowed he slept 
 a third time, and "Woe betide you, Lanky Job," 
 they said, and they set him on the bowsprit end, 
 with bread in one hand and a sup of water in the 
 other. "And stay you there, Lanky Job," they said, 
 "till you drop into the sea and drown." 
 
 Now pitiful was his case truly, for if he looked 
 behind there was little red men to prick him, and 
 if he looked before he got giddy, and if he looked 
 down he got sick, and if he looked up he got daz- 
 zled. So he looked all four ways and closed his 
 eyes, and down he toppled from his perch, going 
 splash into the wash below the bows. "And now 
 for a sleep," he says, "since there's no water wet 
 enough to drown me." And asleep he falls, and 
 long does he drift in the sea. 
 
 Now, by and by, when he had floated for quite 
 a while, he sees a big ship, black as pitch, with 
 heavy red sails, come sailing past him in the dawn. 
 And although he had a caul and couldn't be 
 
34 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 drowned, he was glad enough to see that ship, and 
 right glad indeed to clutch her braces as she rolled. 
 She came swooping down on him, and he 
 caught her main brace as she lay down to leeward 
 from a gust. And with her windward roll and a 
 great heave, he just managed to reach her deck 
 before he fell asleep again. He noticed as he 
 scrambled up the side that she was heavily 
 barnacled, and that she had forty boats to a broad- 
 side, all swinging on ivory davits. 
 
 But when he woke from his sleep, lo and behold, 
 the ship was manned by nothing but great rats, 
 and they were all in blue clothes like sailors, and 
 snarling as they swung the yards. And as soon as 
 they saw Lanky Job they came around him, gnash- 
 ing their long yellow teeth and twirling their hairy 
 whiskers. And the multitude of them was beyond 
 speech, and at every moment it seemed to Job that 
 a boat came alongside with more of them, till the 
 decks were ropy with their tails. Six or seven of 
 them seized hold of him and dragged him aft to 
 where a big bone tiller swung, with a helmsman on 
 each side of it, seated in heavy golden chairs. These 
 helmsmen were half men, half rats, and they were 
 

 THE YARN OF LANKY JOB 35 
 
 hairy like rats, and grey like rats, and they had rats' 
 eyes. But they had the minds of men, and they 
 were the captains of tKat hooker, and right grim 
 they were to look at. Now when he sees those 
 grim things sitting there, Job knew that he'd come 
 aboard the rat flag-ship, whose boats row every sea, 
 picking up the rats as they leave ships going to 
 sink. And he gave a great scream and punched out 
 at the gang who held him, and over the side he 
 bounded. And he drifted a day and a night, till the 
 salt-cracks were all over his body, and he came 
 ashore half dead at Avonmouth, having been a week 
 away. But always after that Lanky Job was a spry 
 sailor, as smart as you could find anywheres. 
 
36 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 FROM THE SPANISH 
 
 The galleon Spanish Rose was built in Saint Mary 
 of the Bells by the Lord Alva of Meroquinez. He 
 built her for one of the beauties of the court, whom 
 he loved in a stately manner, that was ceremonious, 
 like the worship of a relic. Being a rich man he 
 built her of costly things, of cedarwood from the 
 East, of India rosewood, so that each plank of 
 her was sweet to smell. Her fastenings were of 
 wrought silver, curiously beaten. The streets of 
 the silver workers rang noisily for a twelvemonth 
 over the lovely hammering of them. Her decks 
 were beautifully inlaid by the parquetters of Verona, 
 who made in them delicate patterns of coloured 
 woods more brilliant than the seaweeds. The fig- 
 ure-head, carved in a hard wood, was the work of 
 that artist who carved the Madonna in St. James's 
 Church at Seville. It was a design of the Rosa 
 Dei, bursting her golden petals that the cross might 
 
FROM THE SPANISH 37 
 
 show, a rare piece, sweetly wrought ; the folk came 
 far to see it. Her sails were of a fine bleached 
 canvas, edged with red Cordoba leather. They 
 bore a wreathed intricacy of roses, embroidered in 
 crimson or yellow silk by the ladies of Meroquinez. 
 The roping was of that precious hemp which grows 
 only on the Sacred Hill (in Igorroti, in Luzon), so 
 that an ell of it was worth a Florence crown by the 
 time it reached the Spanish riggers' hands. Her 
 high stern, that was built in three decks, had 
 painted bulwarks, each of which bore some painted 
 history of the sea, each history by some Italian. 
 
 There one might see Ulysses, in his red-beaked 
 galley, as he rowed past those piping trulls the 
 sirens. There was the barge of Antony, hung with 
 purple, taking the Egyptian beauty along Nilus. 
 There was Saint Brandan Bright Hair, in his 
 curragh of holy wood, with his singing monks 
 about him. There was the fishing-boat of Peter, 
 that was long worshipped by the Galileans when 
 the spring fisheries were in hand. There was the 
 Genoan in his bark, his yellow banner blowing out 
 bravely. There was Arion at his luting. There 
 were the strange sailors of Atlantis, the seven 
 
38 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 brothers that loved the merrows of the sea, as the 
 Arabian poet has set down. Also there was painted 
 lively the great Flood, with green waves running 
 fiercely, tossing the Ark skyward. Opposite thereto 
 was a table of the Last Day, the sea stilled, with 
 drowned mariners, made glorious, ascending in 
 triumph to the harping of sainted hosts. Within 
 her, in her cabins, she was wrought with more 
 beautiful things. For in the decks of the cabins 
 were roses, worked in parquetry of scarlet logwood, 
 with green leaves, in stained fir, surrounding the 
 heavy blossoms. The bulkheads were of precious 
 wood, carven in pilasters that had gilded roses at 
 their tops. There was a painting on each cabin 
 wall, of Elizabeth with her roses, of Mary in the 
 flowered field, or of those other hallows that have 
 the rose as their symbol. The doorways were hung 
 with blue arras of Persia, or with grey tapestry, 
 splendid with purple peacocks, from the nuns' looms 
 at Ephrata. Each cabin was lit with a silver lamp, 
 that swung in gimbals above a mirror. In every 
 cabin was a silver crucifix, above an old censer of 
 flowered copper, studded with jewels, which sent 
 up scented smoke at every canonical hour. The 
 
FROM THE SPANISH 39 
 
 cabin beams were painted in designs of flowers, 
 but always of red or crimson flowers, such as the 
 rose or poppy, to symbolize love in her activity or 
 weakness. Inlaid upon certain parts of the walls, 
 such as those at the carved bed's head, were curious 
 transcripts from Holy Writ, in praise of love, or 
 verses of the amorous poets, such as Ovid or 
 Petrarch. In each cabin was a cabinet, like a 
 reliquary for richness, containing the precious 
 books of love, written upon vellum, in coloured 
 inks, by fine penmen to whom art was a religion. 
 There might you see Messer Dante, or some rare 
 scroll sealed in red wax, written in Greek, with the 
 tale of Psyche. These books were bound in a green 
 leather, to signify their immortality, while on the 
 cover of each book some jeweller had fashioned a 
 rose in tiny rubies, that typified the love of the 
 saints. 
 
 Now about the decks of this wondrous galleon 
 were stands of curious armour, all scrupulously 
 bright. At her ports, which had every one a wreath 
 of painted roses round it, were cannon of polished 
 brass that shone like gold. Above these were the 
 close fights, or strips of canvas, running the length 
 
40 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 of the deck, all curiously painted with the Lord 
 Alva's arms, in a design of coloured shields that 
 showed the blazonings of his family. The mariners 
 were all Spaniards from Boca Gara, the little port 
 of Meroquinez fronting the Atlantic. The soldiers 
 were but few in number, some twenty swords from 
 Estremadura, who had been in the Indies under 
 Oviedo. They wore bright armour inlaid with gold. 
 In their helmets they wore jewels, or gloves, or 
 feathers, that were the gifts of ladies whom they 
 had served. Their sword-belts were of green 
 leather, in token of hope. Their swords had, every 
 blade of them, drawn blood in the defence of 
 beauty. If I had the pens of twenty poets I might 
 not tell the glory of the stately life they lived, on 
 board the Spanish Rose, the ship built for the 
 Lord Alva's lady. For, in lieu of the exercises 
 common to soldiers or shipmen, they would gather 
 about the mast to hear some pleasant singing in 
 praise of love by one of the Provencal poets, of 
 whom the ship carried nine. Or the lutenists would 
 take their viols, playing some sweet music that for 
 its beauty was like a woman's hair. In the twilights, 
 at Boca Gara, while the ship was fitting for the sea, 
 
FROM THE SPANISH 41 
 
 those on board of her would gather at the mast, 
 with their censers, to sing their vespers, at the first 
 rising of the evening star. 
 
 At night, when the moon was up, some of the 
 mariners, coming from the mysterious darkness in 
 the bows, would light the lantern on the poop, a 
 lantern shaped like a rose. The glass of it was 
 stained crimson, so that when lit it burned like a 
 red rose through the darkness, a sight passing a 
 rose in beauty. All of these amorous subtleties, all 
 of this extravagance of beauty, was for the Lady 
 Alathe of Ayamonte, the woman whom Lord Alva 
 loved. He had courted her during the months 
 while the ship was being fitted for the sea; for he 
 had vowed to bring his bride home to Meroquinez, 
 by water, in a ship fitting her birth. When the 
 Spanish Rose was ready, her crew on board, her 
 bows blessed by the priests, she sailed out from 
 Boca Gara to a noise of singing that mingled with 
 the bells of St. Mary's Church. She reached Aya- 
 monte after three weeks' sailing along the coast, 
 anchoring one sunny afternoon beneath the blos- 
 somed orange groves which scent the houses of 
 the port. He was married the next day at the 
 
42 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 cathedral, while all the bells in the town rang as 
 they ring at Easter, in exultation. After a solemn 
 leave-taking he set sail again (his bride with him) 
 for his home at St. Mary of the Bells. 
 
 There are nine rocks, submerged at high water, 
 about a league to the south-east of Ayamonte 
 Harbour. They go by the name of the Nine 
 Drowned Maidens. They are a menace to shipping, 
 but latterly they have been marked by a lighthouse. 
 It is thought that the Lord Alva's pilot had been 
 made merry with Greek wine (though some say 
 the ill-steering was done by a knight of the bride's 
 company, who loved the lady too well to suffer her 
 to belong to another). At any rate the Spanish 
 Rose struck upon the rocks during the noontime, 
 when her gay complement, so like a bed of tulips 
 for brilliant colour, were drinking to the lady's 
 health. She sank in less than a minute, in deep, 
 calm blue water, with all her company on board. 
 All that was saved of her was an Italian lute, 
 strung with gay, silk ribbons, which floated ashore 
 the next day. 
 
 Less than ten years ago, when the Ayamonte 
 folk were laying the foundations for their light- 
 
FROM THE SPANISH 43 
 
 house, a diver came upon some weeded wreck of 
 her, fairly well preserved, lying on the sand, with a 
 sort of grey silt spreading over her like a cloak. 
 He recovered a few relics from her, such as bits of 
 timber, brass nails, or rusty ironwork, which may 
 be seen at the town museum to this day. The 
 scheme for raising her fell through for lack of 
 funds, but it may be that some American million- 
 aire, greedy of dollars, will form a company to 
 strip the wreck. Perhaps some poor Spanish diver, 
 thrusting through into her central-cabin, will then 
 come across the bones of those great lovers, in the 
 perished magnificence of their bridal banquet, their 
 bony hands still clutching the cups, their whitened 
 fingers still splendid with the wedding rings. 
 
A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 THE SEAL MAN 
 
 "The seals is pretty when they do be playing," 
 said the old woman. "Ah, I seen them frisking 
 their tails till you'd think it was rocks with the 
 seas beating on them, the time the storm's on. I 
 seen the merrows of the sea sitting yonder on the 
 dark stone, and they had crowns on them, and 
 they were laughing. The merrows is not good; 
 it's not good to see too many of them. They are 
 beautiful like young men in their shirts playing hur- 
 ley. They're as beautiful as anything you would be 
 seeing in Amerikey or Australeyey, or any place. 
 The seals is beautiful too, going through the water 
 in the young of the day; but they're not so beauti- 
 ful as them. The seals is no good either. It's a 
 great curse keeps them the way they are, not able to 
 live either in the sea or on the land. 
 
 "One time there was a man of the O'Donnells 
 came here, and he was a bad man. A saint in 
 
THE SEAL MAN 45 
 
 Heaven would have been bothered to find good in 
 him. He died of the fever that came before the 
 Famine. I was a girl then; and if you'd seen the 
 people in them times; there wasn't enough to bury 
 them. The pigs used to eat them in the loanings. 
 And their mouths would be all green where they'd 
 eaten grass from want of food. If you'd seen the 
 houses there was then, indeed, you'd think the 
 place bewitched. But the cabins is all fell in, like 
 yonder, and there's no dancing or fiddling, or any- 
 thing at all, and all of my friends is gone to Ameri- 
 key or Australeyey; I've no one at all to bury me, 
 unless it's that humpy one who comes here, and she's 
 as proud as a Jew. She's no cause to be proud, 
 with a hump on her; her father was just a poor 
 man, the same as any. 
 
 "This O'Donnell I was telling you. My father 
 was at his wake. And they'd the candles lit, and 
 they were drinking putcheen. My father was 
 nearest the door, and a fear took him, and he got 
 up, with his glass in his hand, and he cried out: 
 'There's something here is not good.* And another 
 of them said: 'There's something wants to get 
 out.' And another said: 'It's himself wants to go 
 
46 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 out into the dark night.' And another said: Tor 
 the love of God, open the door.' So my father 
 flung the door open; and, outside, the moon shone 
 down to the sea. And the corpse of the O'Donnell 
 was all blue, and it got up with the sheet knotted 
 on it, and walked out without leaving a track. So 
 they followed it, saying their prayers to Almighty 
 God, and it walked on down to the sea. And when 
 it came to the edge of the sea, the sea was like a 
 flame before it. And it bowed there, three times; 
 and each time it rose up it screamed. And all the 
 seals, and all the mcrrows, and all them that's 
 under the tides, they came up to welcome it. They 
 called out to the corpse and laughed ; and the corpse 
 laughed back, and fell on to the sand. My fa- 
 ther and the other men saw the wraith pass from 
 it, into the water, as it fell. It was like a little 
 black boy, laughing, with great long arms on him. 
 It was all bald and black; and its hands moved like 
 he was tickling someone. 
 
 "And after that the priest had him buried, like 
 they buried the Old Ones; but the wraith passed 
 into a bull seal. You would be feared to see the 
 like of the bull seal. There was a man of the 
 
THE SEAL MAN 47 
 
 O'Kanes fired a blessed shilling at him, and the 
 seal roared up at him and tore his arm across. 
 There was marks like black stars on him after till 
 he died. And the bull seal walked like a man at 
 the change of the moon, like a big, tall, handsome 
 man stepping the roads. You'd be feared, sir, if 
 you saw the like. He set his eyes on young Norah 
 O'Hara. Lovely she was. She'd little ways, sir, 
 would draw the heart out of an old bachelor. 
 Wasn't it a great curse he should take her when 
 there was old hags the like of Mary that has no 
 more beauty than a withered broom that you 
 wouldn't be bothered to mend or a done-out old 
 gather-up of a duck that a hungry dog would blush 
 to be biting? Still, he took Norah. 
 
 "She had a little son, and the little son was a 
 seal-man; the priest wouldn't sign him with the 
 cross. When Norah died he used always to be 
 going to the sea; he would always be swimming. 
 He'd little soft brown hair, like a seal's, the pret- 
 tiest you would be seeing. He used to talk to the 
 seals. My father was coming home one night from 
 Carnmore, and he saw the little seal-man in the 
 sea; and the seals were playing with him, singing 
 
48 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 songs. But my father was feared to hear; he ran 
 away. They stoned the seal-man, whiles, after 
 that; but whiles they didn't stone it. They had a 
 kindness for it, although it had no holy water on 
 it. It was a very young thing to be walking the 
 world, and it was a beautiful wee thing, with its 
 eyes so pretty; so it grew up to be a man. 
 
 "Them that live in the water, they have ways of 
 calling people. Them who passed this seal-man, 
 they felt the call in their hearts. Indeed, if you 
 passed the seal-man, stepping the roads, you would 
 get a queer twist from the way he looked at you. 
 And he set his love on a young girl of the O'Keefe's, 
 a little young girl with no more in her than the 
 flower on its stalk. You would see them in the 
 loanings coming home, or in the bright of the day 
 going. There was a strong love was on them two 
 young things; it was like the love of the Old Ones 
 that took nine deaths to kill. They would be tell- 
 ing Kate it was not right she should set her love 
 on one who wasn't like ourselves; but there's few 
 indeed is the young'll listen. They are all for 
 pleasure, all for pleasure, before they are withered 
 old hags, the like of my sister Mary. And at last 
 
THE SEAL MAN 49 
 
 they shut her up at home, to keep her from seeing 
 him. And he came by her cabin to the west of the 
 road, calling. There was a strong love came up 
 in her at that, and she put down her sewing on the 
 table, and 'Mother,' she says, 'there's no lock, 
 and no key, and no bolt, and no door. There's no 
 iron, nor no stone, nor anything at all will keep 
 me this night from the man I love.' And she went 
 out into the moonlight to him, there by the bush 
 where the flowers is pretty, beyond the river. And 
 he says to her: 'You are all of the beauty of the 
 world, will you come where I go, over the waves 
 of the sea?' And she says to him: 'My treasure 
 and my strength,' she says, 'I would follow you on 
 the frozen hills, my feet bleeding.' 
 
 "Then they went down into the sea together, 
 and the moon made a track upon the sea, and they 
 walked down it; it was like a flame before them. 
 There was no fear at all on her; only a great love 
 like the love of the Old Ones, that was stronger 
 than the touch of the fool. She had a little white 
 throat, and little cheeks like flowers, and she went 
 down into the sea with her man, who wasn't a man 
 at all. She was drowned, of course. It's like he 
 
50 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 never thought that she wouldn't bear the sea like 
 himself. She was drowned, drowned. 
 
 "When it come light they saw the seal-man sit- 
 ting yonder on the rock, and she lying by him, 
 dead, with her face as white as a flower. He was 
 crying and beating her hands to bring life to her. 
 It would have drawn pity from a priest to hear 
 him, though he wasn't Christian. And at last, when 
 he saw that she was drowned, he took her in his 
 arms and slipped into the sea like a seal. And he 
 swam, carrying her, with his head up, laughing 
 and laughing and laughing, and no one ever saw 
 him again at all." 
 
THE WESTERN ISLANDS 51 
 
 THE WESTERN ISLANDS 
 
 "Once there were two sailors; and one of them 
 was Joe, and the other one was Jerry, and they 
 were fishermen. And they'd a young apprentice- 
 feller, and his name was Jim. And Joe was a 
 great one for his pot, and Jerry was a wonder at 
 his pipe; and Jim did all the work, and both of 
 them banged him. So one time Joe and Jerry 
 were in the beerhouse, and there was a young par- 
 son there, telling the folks about foreign things, 
 about plants and that. 'Ah,' he says, 'what won- 
 ders there are in the west/ 
 
 " 'What sort of wonders, begging your pardon, 
 sir,' says Joe. 'What sort of wonders might them 
 be?' 
 
 " 'Why, all sorts of wonders,' says the parson. 
 'Why, in the west,' he says, 'there's things you 
 wouldn't believe. No, you wouldn't believe; not 
 till you'd seen them,' he says. 'There's diamonds 
 
52 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 growing on the trees. And great, golden, glitter- 
 ing pearls as common as pea-straw. And there's 
 islands in the west. Ah, I could tell you of them. 
 Islands? I rather guess there's islands. None of 
 your Isles of Man. None of your Alderney and 
 Sark. Not in them seas/ 
 
 " 'What sort of islands might they be, begging 
 your pardon, sir?' says Jerry. 
 
 11 'Why,' he says (the parson feller says) , 'islands. 
 Islands as big as Spain. Islands with rivers of 
 rum and streams of sarsaparilla. And none of 
 your roses. Rubies and ame-thynes is all the roses 
 grows in them parts. With golden stalks to them, 
 and big diamond sticks to them, and the taste of 
 pork-crackling if you eat them. They're the sort 
 of roses to have in your area,' he says. 
 
 " 'And what else might there be in them parts, 
 begging your pardon, sir?' says Joe. 
 
 " 'Why,' he says, this parson says, 'there's won- 
 ders. There's not only wonders but miracles. And 
 not only miracles, but sperrits.' 
 
 " 'What sort of sperrits might they be, begging 
 your pardon?' says Jerry. 'Are they rum and 
 that?' 
 
THE WESTERN ISLANDS 53 
 
 " When I says sperms,' says the parson feller, 
 'I mean ghosts/ 
 
 " 'Of course ye do,' says Joe. 
 
 " 'Yes, ghosts,' says the parson. 'And by 
 ghosts I mean sperrits. And by sperrits I mean 
 white things. And by white things I mean things 
 as turn your hair white. And there's red devils 
 there, and blue devils there, and a great gold 
 queen a-waiting for a man to kiss her. And the 
 first man as dares to kiss that queen, why he be- 
 comes king, and all her sacks of gold become 
 his.' 
 
 " 'Begging your pardon, sir,' said Jerry, 'but 
 whereabouts might these here islands be?' 
 
 " 'Why, in the west,' says the parson. 'In the 
 west, where the sun sets.' 
 
 " 'Ah,' said Joe and Jerry. 'What wonders 
 there are in the world.' 
 
 ***** 
 
 "Now, after that, neither one of them could 
 think of anything but these here western islands. 
 So at last they take their smack, and off they go 
 in search of them. And Joe had a barrel of beer 
 in the bows, and Jerry had a box of twist in the 
 
54 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 waist, and pore little Jim stood and steered abaft 
 all. And in the evenings Jerry and Joe would 
 bang their pannikins together, and sing of the 
 great times they meant to have when they were 
 married to the queen. Then they would clump 
 pore little Jim across the head, and tell him to 
 watch out, and keep her to her course, or they'd 
 ride him down like you would a main tack. And 
 he'd better mind his eye, they told him, or they'd 
 make him long to be boiled and salted. And he'd 
 better put more sugar in the tea, they said, or 
 they'd cut him up for cod-bait. And who was he, 
 they asked, to be wanting meat for dinner, when 
 there was that much weevilly biscuit in the bread- 
 barge? And boys was going to the dogs, they 
 said, when limbs the like of him had the heaven- 
 born insolence to want to sleep. And a nice pass 
 things was coming to, they said, when a lad as 
 they'd done everything for, and saved, so to 
 speak, from the workhouse, should go for to 
 snivel when they hit him a clip. If they'd said a 
 word, when they was hit, when they was boys, 
 they told him, they'd have had their bloods drawed, 
 and been stood in the wind to cool. But let him 
 
THE WESTERN ISLANDS 55 
 
 take heed, they said, and be a good lad, and do 
 the work of five, and they wouldn't half wonder, 
 they used to say, as he'd be a man before his 
 mother. So the sun shone, and the stars came out 
 golden, and all the sea was a sparkle of gold with 
 them. Blue was the sea, and the wind blew, too, 
 and it blew Joe and Jerry west as fast as a cat can 
 eat sardines. 
 
 ***** 
 
 "And one fine morning the wind fell calm, and 
 a pleasant smell came over the water, like nutmegs 
 on a rum-milk-punch. Presently the dawn broke. 
 And, lo and behold, a rousing great wonderful 
 island, all scarlet with coral and with rubies. The 
 surf that was beating on her sands went shattering 
 into silver coins, into dimes, and pesetas, and 
 francs, and fourpenny bits. And the flowers on 
 the cliffs was all one gleam and glitter. And the 
 beauty of that island was a beauty beyond the 
 beauty of Sally Brown, the lady as kept the beer- 
 house. And on the beach of that island, on a 
 golden throne, like, sat a woman so lovely that 
 to look at her was as good as a church-service for 
 one. 
 
56 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 " 'That's the party I got to kiss,' said Jerry. 
 'Steady, and beach her, Jim, boy,' he says. 'Run 
 her ashore, lad. That's the party is to be my queen.' 
 
 "You've got a neck on you, all of a sudden,' 
 said Joe. 'You ain't the admiral of this fleet. Not 
 by a wide road you ain't. I'll do all the kissing 
 as there's any call for. You keep clear, my son.' 
 
 Here the boat ran her nose into the sand, and the 
 voyagers went ashore. 
 
 "'Keep clear, is it?' said Jerry. 'You tell me 
 to keep clear? You tell me again, and I'll put a 
 head on you — '11 make you sing like a kettle. Who 
 are you to tell me to keep clear?' 
 
 " 'I tell you who I am,' said Joe. 'I'm a better 
 man than you are. That's what I am. I'm Joe 
 the Tank, from Limehouse Basin, and there's no 
 tinker's donkey-boy'll make me stand from under. 
 Who are you to go kissing queens? Who are you 
 that talk so proud and so mighty? You've a 
 face on you would make a Dago tired. You look 
 like a sea-sick Kanaka that's boxed seven rounds 
 with a buzz-saw. You've no more manners than 
 a hog, and you've a lip on you would fetch the 
 enamel off a cup.' 
 
THE WESTERN ISLANDS 57 
 
 " 'If it comes to calling names/ said Jerry, 'you 
 ain't the only pebble on the beach. Whatever 
 you might think, I tell you you ain't. You're the 
 round turn and two-half hitches of a figure of fun 
 as makes the angels weep. That's what you are. 
 And you're the right-hand strand, and the left- 
 hand strand, and the centre strand, and the core, 
 and the serving, and the marling, of a three- 
 stranded, left-handed, poorly worked junk of a 
 half begun and never finished odds and ends of a 
 Port Mahon soldier. You look like a Portuguese 
 drummer. You've a whelky red nose that shines 
 like a port side-light. YouVe a face like a muddy 
 field where they've been playing football in the 
 rain. Your hair is an insult and a shame. I blush 
 when I look at you. You give me a turn like the 
 first day out to a first voyager. Kiss, will you? 
 Kiss? Man, I tell you you'd paralyze a shark if 
 you kissed him. Paralyze him, strike him cold. 
 That's what a kiss of yours'd do.' 
 
 " 'You ought to a been a parson,' said Joe, 
 'that's what you'd ought. There's many would 
 a paid you for talk like that. But for all your 
 fine talk, and for all your dandy language, you'll 
 
58 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 not come the old soldier over me. No, nor ten of 
 you. You talk of kissing, when there's a hand- 
 some young man, the likes of me, around ? Neither 
 you nor ten of you. To hear you talk one'd think 
 you was a Emperor or a Admiral. One would 
 think you was a Bishop or a King. One might 
 mistake you for a General or a Member of Parlia- 
 ment. You might. Straight, you might. A Gen- 
 eral or a Bishop or a King. And what are you? 
 k What are you? I ask you plain. What are you? 
 — I'll tell you what you are. 
 
 " You're him as hired himself out as a scarecrow, 
 acos no one'd take you as a fo'c's'le hand. You're 
 him as give the colic to a weather-cock. You're 
 him as turned old Mother Bomby's beer. You're 
 him as drowned the duck and stole the monkey. 
 You're him as got the medal give him for having 
 a face that made the bull tame. You're ' 
 
 11 'Now don't you cast no more to me/ said 
 Jerry. 'For I won't take no lip from a twelve-a- 
 shilling, cent-a-corner, the likes of you are. 
 You're the clippings of old junk, what the Dagoes 
 smokes in cigarettes. A swab, and a wash-deck- 
 broom, and the half of a pint of paint'd make a 
 
THE WESTERN ISLANDS 59 
 
 handsomer figer of a man than what you are. I've 
 seen a coir whisk, what they grooms a mule with, 
 as had a sweeter face than you got. So stand 
 aside, before you're put aside. I'm the king of this 
 here island. You can go chase yourself for another. 
 Stand clear, I say, or I'll give you a jog'll make 
 your bells ring/ 
 
 ***** 
 
 "Now, while they were argufying, young Jim, the 
 young apprentice feller, he creeps up to the queen 
 upon the throne. She was beautiful, she was, 
 and she shone in the sun, and she looked straight 
 ahead of her like a wax-work in a show. And in 
 her hand she had a sack full of jewels, and at her 
 feet she had a sack full of gold, and by her side 
 was an empty throne ready for the king she married. 
 But round her right hand there was a red snake, 
 and round her left hand there was a blue snake, and 
 the snakes hissed and twisted, and they showed 
 their teeth full of poison. So Jim looked at the 
 snakes, and he hit them a welt, right and left, and 
 he kissed the lady. 
 
 "And immediately all the bells and the birds of 
 the world burst out a-ringing and a-singing. The 
 
60 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 lady awoke from her sleep, and Jim's old clothes 
 were changed to cloth of gold. And there he was, a 
 king, on the throne beside the lady. 
 
 "But the red snake turned to a big red devil who 
 took a hold of Joe, and the blue snake turned to a 
 big blue devil, who took a hold of Jerry. And 
 'Come you here, you brawling pugs,' they said, 
 'come and shovel sand.' And Joe and Jerry took 
 the spades that were given to them. And 'Dig, 
 now,' said the devils. 'Heave round. Let's see 
 you dig. Dig, you scarecrows. And tell us when 
 you've dug to London.' " 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 61 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 
 
 Captain John Ward, our "most notorious pirate," 
 was born at Feversham, in Kent, about the year 
 1555. We first hear of him as a fisherman of that 
 town, the child of mean parents, of "estate lowe," 
 and of "hope," or expectations, still less. It has 
 been stated that, at one time, presumably in his 
 youth, he made one of a buccaneering party in the 
 West Indies. It is highly probable that he learned 
 the crafts of seamanship and navigation as a 
 mariner in one of the many raids against the 
 Spaniards, between the years 1570 and 1596. The 
 Spanish Main, no less than the English Channel at 
 that time, was a very pleasant place for a pirate; 
 and Ward, in later years, talked mournfully of the 
 good days he had had in his youth, "robbing at 
 will, and counting the world but a garden where 
 he walked for sport." After the death of Drake, in 
 1596, he seems to have been a seaman aboard one 
 of the Queen's ships on a voyage to Portugal. 
 
62 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 Pepwell, writing in 1608, tells us that he "rose 
 through all ranks of the (naval) service in our wars 
 with Spain." 
 
 His buccaneering and naval service, if he ever 
 indulged in any, failed to make his fortune; for he 
 was a fisherman at Feversham, owning a single 
 small fishing-boat, in the year 1602. In that year 
 his pride grew to such a height that he could brook 
 the fishery no longer. "Nothing would serve him 
 but the wide Ocean to walke in." He went aboard 
 his ketch one morning, and crept along the coast 
 to Plymouth, where he seems to have sold his ves- 
 sel for a fair sum. His wife he left behind him at 
 Feversham. 
 
 For the next few months he lived in the Plymouth 
 taverns, drinking the wondrous Plymouth ale, 
 which was "stronger than sack," and cheap, and 
 so full of alcohol that "an halfe bowle" would 
 make a sailor's wits like a merry-go-round. Ply- 
 mouth at that time was full of wastrels and rogues. 
 The chief clients of the ale-houses were runaway 
 sailors, who, after entering for a voyage, and 
 drawing an advance, or bounty, lay perdu till the 
 ship had sailed. The society of the long-shore was 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 63 
 
 highly undesirable. [What with pirates and de- 
 serters and smugglers, at every street corner, hon- 
 est John Ward had little incentive to be virtu- 
 ous. By 1603 he had become a ragged, moody 
 ruffian who got drunk every night "with drinking 
 of the King" among a company of "scatter-goods 
 and swaggerers." He went by the name of Jack 
 Ward, and had a reputation as a stout drinker and 
 swearer. He used to sit on the tavern benches 
 "cursing the time" with a vehemence which won 
 him the regard of all who heard. His biographer 
 suggests that he paid no rent. The little money he 
 possessed seems to have been spent in drink : 
 
 Ale was his eating and his drinking solely 
 
 so that "all the day you should hardly fail but 
 finde him in an ale-house : but bee sure to have him 
 drunke at home at night." 
 
 After a few months in Plymouth, his money (his 
 savings, or the proceeds of the ketch) was ex- 
 hausted. Plymouth ale became no longer feasible, 
 nor would the hosts give him credit, and at this 
 time he seems to have obtained some employment 
 in one of the King's ships. It was not then a 
 
64 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 difficult business to enter a King's ship, and no 
 doubt Ward had a wide acquaintance among the 
 warrant officers of the ships in harbour. A word 
 from one of them would have been sufficient to 
 obtain a post for him. We do not know the exact 
 nature of his employment, but it was probably that 
 of ship-keeper, or petty-officer. As such, he went 
 aboard the Lions Whelp, a small man-of-war, then 
 lying in the harbour. The work, whatever it was, 
 was probably not very arduous, nor does it appear 
 that the ship had her full complement "of 63 
 hands" aboard her. Ward helped to fit her for the 
 sea, and made one of the crew (probably a scratch 
 crew) which worked her round, shortly afterwards, 
 to Portsmouth, where she anchored. 
 
 The Navy, at that time, was by no means a 
 popular service. Sir Walter Raleigh, writing in 
 this very year, tells us that "They go with as 
 great grudging to serve in his Majesty's ships as 
 if it were to be slaves in the galleys." Five years 
 after this date, when matters had grown rather 
 worse, under a Stuart administration, the Navy 
 was "for the greatest part manned with aged, 
 impotent, vagrant, lewd and disorderly com- 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 65 
 
 panions"; it had "become a ragged regiment of 
 common rogues." Aboard the Lions Whelp they 
 were mostly old rovers who had sailed in the 
 piratical raids of the last reign. The work they 
 had to do while they lay in Portsmouth was 
 not enough to keep them employed; and "when 
 sailors are idle you have mutiny." Besides too 
 much spare time, they had too many causes for 
 complaint. The ship's beer was sour; the ship 
 had an unwholesome smell; the beef and fish were 
 putrid; the pay was both irregular and insufficient. 
 In the evenings, when work was at an end, the 
 ship-keepers would get together; and Ward would 
 hold forth to them upon the evils of their lot. He 
 told them of the happy days they had enjoyed to- 
 gether in the past, in the West Indies or else- 
 where, when the world had been an oyster to them, 
 which, with their jack-knives, they had opened. 
 The sailors listened to him, and held his words to 
 be sound doctrine; but, as they saw no remedy, 
 they contented themselves with listening. 
 
 It happened that Ward somehow came to hear 
 of a recusant, a Roman Catholic gentleman, who 
 was preparing to leave England for France, in 
 
66 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 order to enjoy "liberty of conscience." He had 
 sold his estate near Petersfield, and had chartered 
 a bark of twenty-five tons, to convey him to Havre. 
 The bark lay at Portsmouth, not far from the 
 Lions Whelp, and aboard her (so Ward was in- 
 formed) was the recusant's money. The religious 
 issue probably did not weigh with Ward; but the 
 thought of £2,000, "in ready chinkes," besides 
 plate and jewels, was too much for him. His 
 informant (no doubt one of the crew of the bark) 
 may have exaggerated matters; but even with a 
 considerable discount the bark must have seemed 
 a most noble "purchase." Ward hastened to tell 
 his brother warrants of the "comfortable little 
 dew of Heaven" lying so close beside them. They 
 agreed with him that such an opportunity ought 
 not to be allowed to pass. They had had enough of 
 the King's service to last them through their lives, 
 and there, in the little bark, was "present pay" 
 enough to keep them in affluence. They planned 
 to go ashore together till the evening, when they 
 would lay the bark aboard, make a prize of her, 
 and carry her away to sea, there to rove as pirates 
 "to seek their desperate fortunes," 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 67 
 
 The work they had to do aboard the Lions Whelp 
 was, as we have said, not enough to keep them 
 busy. They had no difficulty in obtaining leave to 
 go ashore, on the rather curious pretext that the 
 steward did not give them a full allowance, and 
 that they were hungry, and wished to buy them- 
 selves a square meal, at one of the inns by the 
 Point. They went ashore together in one of the 
 boats, and soon found a tavern to their taste. 
 Here they sat down to disport themselves "after 
 the manner of sailors," with the "humming ale" 
 and "virtuous sacke" of their hearts* desires. 
 Very presently, although it was early in the day, 
 they became drunk. They began to "swagger," 
 or bluster, and in their songs and oaths, and 
 drunken talk, they seem to have let fall a few dark 
 hints of their intentions towards the recusant. 
 The recusant happened to be ashore in Portsmouth 
 waiting for the tide, or buying necessaries. He 
 saw "a ragged regiment of common rogues" 
 rolling from inn to inn. He heard their oaths and 
 menaces (or heard of them from some one he could 
 trust), and became suspicious.. Portsmouth was 
 but a little town, and the presence of a drunken 
 
68 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 gang, at such a time, was disquieting. The recusant 
 resolved to run no risks. He went aboard the little 
 bark and conveyed ashore his "ready chinkes," with 
 all his plate and jewels. 
 
 When the light began to fail, Ward's company 
 took their boat and rowed to the bark. They laid 
 her aboard very quietly, and carried her without 
 opposition, for there were only "two poor sneaks" 
 in charge of her. They thrust this couple below, 
 while some of them hove up the anchor, and got 
 sail upon her. In a few minutes they were under 
 way. They ran out to sea with a shout to the 
 battery, and shaped a course to the westward. 
 
 It did not take the pirates many minutes to 
 discover that they had been duped, and that the 
 gold they had risked their necks for was not 
 aboard. It took them sadly aback, and caused 
 them "to be ranck mad," for there was no return- 
 ing to Portsmouth. It was one of those awkward 
 situations in which the great man gets an oppor- 
 tunity to explain himself. It was Ward's oppor- 
 tunity; and he rose to it at once. The recusant 
 had provisioned the ship for the voyage with a 
 profusion which did him honour. Although he had 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 69 
 
 taken his money-bags, his "nest of goldfinches," 
 he had not removed his "turkey-pies," his "veni- 
 son pasties," and his "sundry sorts of sacke"; so 
 that there was no question of the pirates running 
 short of food for some little time. Ward set a 
 watch, and placed a good man at the helm, and 
 called a council round his supper-table. They 
 made a very excellent supper, and washed it down 
 with what some one has called "the learned poet's 
 good." As they ate and drank, they debated that 
 if they ventured again into Portsmouth they would 
 very speedily be hanged, at low water mark, as a 
 warning to sailors. It was not very probable that 
 they would be pursued; so that there was no 
 immediate danger, and Ward proposed that they 
 should cruise for a day or two off the Land's End ; 
 and then, if they met with any luck, put into 
 Plymouth, to take off some of the men who had 
 been his boon-companions there, before he joined 
 the Navy. After that, he thought, they could 
 "commence pirates" on a more ambitious scale. 
 They could enter the Mediterranean, and join issue 
 with the pirates of Algiers. 
 
 This project won the hearts of all present; so 
 
;o A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 westward they sailed. In a day or two they had 
 reached their cruising ground, near the Scilly 
 Islands, and there they sighted a fine French 
 merchantman, bound for Ireland. Ward sent his 
 men below, so that the merchants should not 
 suspect him. He ran up to the Frenchman and 
 hailed him, in all friendship. The Frenchman sus- 
 pected nothing; and for some time the two ships 
 kept company. Presently, when Ward thought 
 that the Frenchmen would be quite off their guards, 
 he edged his bark alongside, and called his gang 
 to board her. The surprise was complete. The 
 Frenchmen were beaten down below, or flung 
 overboard, and Ward found himself in possession 
 of a ship of seventy tons, well-equipped, and 
 armed. After this, he sailed for Plymouth, where 
 he anchored in Cawsand Bay. Some of his com- 
 pany contrived to enter the town, where they 
 persuaded a number of ruffians to leave the taverns 
 and to come for a cruise. With these recruits, 
 Ward thought himself strong enough to put to 
 sea as a rover. He left Cawsand Bay and sailed 
 away down Channel to the Spanish coasts. 
 
 He seems to have cruised for several months off 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 71 
 
 the coast of Spain, with considerable success. He 
 took a ship of one hundred tons, and a smaller 
 vessel, a coaster, of the kind known as a sattee. 
 In both these vessels he found recruits, besides 
 gold and merchandise; so that, by the spring of 
 1604, he felt himself strong enough to proceed to 
 Algiers, to league himself, as many English pirates 
 had done before him, to the Algerine pirates, the 
 scourges of the Mediterranean. But it chanced 
 that, only a few weeks before he came to Algiers, 
 one Richard Gifford, a pirate of renown, in the 
 service of the Duke of Tuscany, had burnt some 
 Algerine galleys, and killed many of the pirates on 
 board them. The Algerines were retaliating by 
 barbarous reprisals upon English merchantmen, 
 and when Ward arrived off their city he found 
 them particularly bitter. They refused his proffered 
 alliance, and drove him from their ports. He 
 therefore proceeded to Tunis, where he became a 
 Turk (in order to satisfy the religious scruples of 
 the natives), and made some satisfactory arrange- 
 ment with the Bey, or Governor, a man named 
 Osmund, or "Crossyman." In consideration of 
 some large percentage of his profits this Bey, or 
 
72 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 "Crossyman," agreed to allow him to shelter and 
 recruit at Tunis, and to use that port as a base 
 from which he might sally out to rob at pleasure. 
 The name Crossyman seems to be a corruption of 
 Cara Osman, or Osman the Dark. Osman, it seems, 
 had started life as a tailor. 
 
 It is difficult for one accustomed to the law and 
 order of the present day to understand the dangers 
 which threatened the Jacobean traveller. The seas 
 swarmed with pirates; so that few merchantmen 
 dared put to sea without arms; while very few 
 came home without some tale of an encounter. 
 There were pirates in the Atlantic, to intercept the 
 ships coming home from the Newfoundland fish- 
 eries. There were pirates in the West Indies, roving 
 for Spanish treasure-ships. There were pirates in 
 the Orkneys, preying upon the Iceland trades. 
 There were pirates all over Ireland, especially in 
 the south and the west, ranging over the Channel, 
 and round these coasts. But there were, perhaps, 
 more pirates in the Mediterranean than in all the 
 other waters put together. In the Mediterranean 
 they had the most part of the trade of Europe for 
 their quarry; while the coasts of Africa, and the 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 73 
 
 islands of the Archipelago, provided obscure har- 
 bours (with compliant Governors) for the recruiting 
 of the companies after a cruise. The pirates, like 
 the buccaneers a century later, preferred to cruise in 
 small ships, in order that they might be less con- 
 spicuous and less likely to arouse the suspicion of 
 the merchantmen. It was their custom to cruise 
 in the swiftest ships they could find; and it must 
 be remembered that their vessels, being small, 
 could be propelled by sweeps when the wind failed 
 them. When they sighted a ship which seemed to 
 them to be a profitable quarry they contrived to 
 follow her, without arousing her suspicions, until 
 the evening, when they used to lay her aboard. If 
 the quarry were slower than the cruiser, as gener- 
 ally happened, the pirates did not shorten sail, lest 
 the merchants should suspect them. They carried 
 their canvas as before, but they took care to 
 slacken their progress by dragging a sea-anchor, 
 a cask or two of water, "or other such like," in 
 the sea astern of them. They kept the sea in the 
 very worst of weather "by reason of the handiness 
 of their ships and their skill as mariners." It was 
 their custom to take from their prizes not only the 
 
74 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 valuables such as gold and jewels, but the sea- 
 stores, such as ropes, spars, sweeps, sails, and 
 ship's provisions. With these "recruits," or "plen- 
 ishings," they were able to keep out of harbour for 
 many months at a time; and constant service made 
 them excellent sailors. Their profits were enor- 
 mous, and the risks they ran were really not very 
 serious. The English Government, with its decayed 
 Navy, could do very little against them. Spain 
 was at war with Holland, and could not in any 
 case spare ships from her West Indian convoys. 
 Venice alone could trouble them; but the Venetian 
 galleys, the only ships they dreaded, were expen- 
 sive to the Venetian state, and by no means perfect 
 as protectors of commerce. On the whole, the lot 
 of the pirate was particularly happy and free from 
 care. To such a lot did John Ward devote himself, 
 in the spring of 1604, after his relations with the 
 Bey of Tunis had been established on what is 
 known as "a sound financial basis." In a very few 
 years he had made himself famous beyond expecta- 
 tion. 
 
 It seems that Ward prospered as a pirate from 
 the time of his first establishment at Tunis. He 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 75 
 
 took a rich Venetian "argosy" in his first cruise 
 off the south of Spain, and a day or two later he 
 took a smaller ship, which he retained as his flag- 
 ship. He fitted her with four and twenty cannon, 
 and named her "the Little John" after the com- 
 rade of Robin Hood. Other pirates, among them 
 a man named Simon Dansekar, offered to form an 
 alliance with him; and with their forces, added to 
 his own, he was strong enough for "bold attempts." 
 He had at least four "well-appointed" ships under 
 his command, with "above two hundred English- 
 men, good soldiers, and expert mariners," besides 
 Turks, to man them. With this squadron he took 
 a huge Venetian carrack, after a fierce fight. The 
 carrack was the Soderina; a wealthy merchantman, 
 worth, it was said, some half a million crowns. 
 The credit of the capture was due to Ward. The 
 ship was gallantly defended, and would not have 
 been taken had not Ward driven his hands aboard 
 her at the point of his dagger. The wealth was 
 safely landed at Tunis, where it purchased Ward 
 an abundant popularity. 
 
 While dividing the spoils of this carrack, Ward 
 quarrelled with his partner, Simon Dansekar. 
 
76 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 Dansekar, or "Dansekar the Dutchman/' was a 
 Fleming of Flushing, who commenced pirate by 
 running away with a ship from Marseilles. He 
 seems to have been a more humane man than Ward ; 
 for he objected to Ward's habit of selling Christian 
 prisoners to the Turks. He was merciful to mer- 
 chants of his own nationality, while Ward, as 
 Professor Laughton tells us, robbed all nations 
 "with exemplary impartiality." When he quar- 
 relled with Ward, he abandoned Tunis, and re- 
 moved his ships and pirates to Algiers. This 
 breaking-up of the partnership so weakened Ward's 
 position with the Bey, that he seems to have been 
 anxious for his safety, and eager to make new 
 alliances. An English merchant, who saw him at 
 Tunis at this crisis, writes of him as being "in a 
 desperate plight," eager to give up some 40,000 
 crowns' worth of booty, if, for such a bribe, King 
 James would pardon him, and allow him to land 
 in England, with some three hundred of his gang. 
 However, the desperate plight was not so desperate 
 as the merchant thought. According to Sir Henry 
 Wotton, Ward was "beyond a doubt the greatest 
 scoundrel that ever sailed from England." At the 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 77 
 
 time of his application to King James he was pre- 
 paring the Soderina for a piratical cruise "with 
 forty bronze pieces on the lower, and twenty on 
 the upper deck." He was also planning to obtain a 
 "letter of marque" from any Italian prince who 
 would receive him, in the event of his failure to 
 appease King James. It would appear that the 
 application to King James was made through some 
 courtier for a consideration. It was refused, be- 
 cause the Venetian ambassador, Zorzi Giustinian, 
 demanded that no such pardon should be granted 
 until the State of Venice, and all Venetian subjects, 
 had been amply indemnified for their losses. 
 
 Zorzi Giustinian was able to trouble Ward in 
 another way. At Tunis, the pirates' harbour, there 
 was little market for merchandise. Ward had 
 taken a great spoil of silk and indigo in the 
 Soderina, but he could not dispose of it to his 
 satisfaction among the Turks and Moors. He in- 
 duced an English ship, which had put into Tunis 
 for water, to take a lading of these goods, to dis- 
 pose of them in Flanders. The Venetian Senate 
 was admirably served by its spies. Giustinian 
 received particulars of this ship, and induced the 
 
78 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 Lord High Admiral of England to watch for her. 
 At the end of 1605, she was taken in the Channel, 
 and carried into an English port. Her name was 
 the Husband, and she was owned by London mer- 
 chants. In her hold was some <£ 10,000 worth of 
 the Soderinas cargo. Before this booty had been 
 fully discharged, another ship, the Seraphim, 
 arrived from Tunis with a similar freight. She, 
 too, was arrested, and her cargo, or as much of it 
 as could be proved to be Venetian, was handed 
 back to Giustinian. Ward made one or two more 
 attempts to open up a market in Europe, but the 
 ships were taken, one after another, at Bristol and 
 elsewhere, so that at last he abandoned the scheme. 
 He waited at Tunis for several months for King 
 James's answer to his request for pardon. When 
 the royal refusal reached him, he put to sea again, 
 partly to make more money to offer in bribes and 
 partly to make the merchants more eager for him 
 to be pardoned. At about this time, March 1606, a 
 Royal Proclamation was issued for his suppression. 
 The cruise of 1608 was an eventful cruise for 
 Ward. He had fitted out the Soderina for a flag- 
 ship, and had mounted her with sixty or seventy 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 79 
 
 brass guns. He had, besides, two smaller ships of 
 war, both "heavily manned and armed." Alto- 
 gether he seems to have commanded about four 
 hundred men, three-fourths of whom were Turks 
 or Moors, the others being Flemings, French, and 
 Englishmen. One of the three ships foundered off 
 Carthage early in the cruise. The other two roved 
 up and down, and took two valuable Marseilles 
 carracks. 
 
 While at sea, in his flag-ship, Ward lived in 
 great state, with a double cabin guard of twelve 
 Turks armed with scimitars. He had his "music" 
 (an English trumpeter) to play to him; and no 
 doubt his cabin was sweet with many perfumes, 
 and nobly furnished. In different parts of his ship 
 were refreshment bars or canteens for the sale of 
 wines and spirits. All his sailors received a daily 
 allowance of strong drink; but if they wanted more 
 they had to purchase it at one of these canteens. 
 Sailors generally want more; and we read with 
 small surprise that the discipline of the Soderina 
 was not particularly good. The only law which 
 has come down to us from her code is one forbid- 
 ding, or at least discouraging, murder. 
 
80 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 The piratical squadron turned eastward at the 
 end of February 1608 bound to plunder "the 
 shipping of Syria." Early in March, it came on to 
 blow and the squadron was scattered. The great 
 Soderina, with her frame much weakened by her 
 numerous new gun-ports, and her upper works 
 much strained by the weight of her new brass 
 guns, began to labour and leak. "About one 
 hundred miles off Cerigo," when the weather was 
 at its worst, she started a plank, and went to the 
 bottom. More than three hundred Turks sank with 
 her. The sole survivors were "four men and a 
 boy" who were found afloat on some wreckage by 
 a passing ship, going for Marseilles. Ward 
 escaped with his life, owing to his skill as a boat- 
 man; for while the storm was at its worst he left 
 the Soderina in a boat, in which he managed to get 
 aboard the Little John. The news of the disaster 
 reached Tunis before him through the five sur- 
 vivors who had been taken to Marseilles. When 
 Ward returned there, after his cruise, he "was 
 nearly torn in pieces by the Janissaries," who were 
 furious with him for his desertion of the flag-ship, 
 and for the loss of so many true believers. It cost 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 81 
 
 Ward a large portion of his treasure to regain the 
 confidence of his allies. 
 
 Shortly after the loss of the Soderina, an English- 
 man of the name of Pepwell, in the service of the 
 English Lord Admiral, went to Tunis to convert 
 Ward to a better habit of life. He failed to move 
 that stony heart, as he failed, directly afterwards, 
 in a plot to poison him. While he reasoned with, 
 or tried to poison, Ward, that worthy's seamen 
 were not idle. "They so won his (Pepwell's) 
 sailors that they became pirates," leaving Pepwell 
 to come home as best he might. There were 
 several pirates lying at Tunis, all of them sub- 
 ordinate to Ward, and Pepwell at last won one of 
 them, a Captain Bishop, to give him a passage to 
 Venice. At Venice he gave Sir Henry Wotton, the 
 English Ambassador, a minute account of Ward. 
 He describes him as being "about fifty-five years 
 of age. Very short, with little hair, and that 
 quite white; bald in front; swarthy face and 
 beard. Speaks little, and almost always swear- 
 ing. Drunk from morn till night. Most prodi- 
 gal and plucky. Sleeps a great deal, and often 
 on board when in port. The habits of a 
 
82 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 thorough 'salt.' A fool and an idiot out of his 
 trade." 
 
 During the next few years, in spite of various 
 losses, Ward seems to have prospered. It is said 
 that he made a cruise to Ireland, with seven hun- 
 dred men, and that he offered King James £40,000 
 for a pardon, which was refused. When he heard 
 that his offer had been unavailing, he determined 
 to settle down at Tunis. His, old friend "Crossy- 
 man," gave him the remains of a castle, which he 
 repaired with marble and alabaster, till it was "a 
 very stately house far more fit for a prince than a 
 pirate." He lived there, when not at sea, "in a 
 most princely and magnificent state. His apparel 
 both curious and costly, his diet sumptuous." He 
 had two cooks to dress and prepare his diet for 
 him, "and his taster before he eats." "I do not 
 knowe any peere in England," says his biographer, 
 "that bears up his post in more dignity." 
 
 It is not known how and when he died. Dan- 
 sekar, his old ally, obtained a pardon from 
 Henri IV of France, and entered the service of the 
 Duke of Guise. Ward, as far as we can learn, was 
 never pardoned. "He lived there, in Tunis," in 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN WARD 83 
 
 his marble palace, where William Lithgow, the 
 traveller, had supper with him, in the year 16 15. 
 Some say that Ward was drowned off Crete, and 
 others that the Turks poisoned him. Both accounts 
 are highly probable. It may be that, in his old age, 
 he bought a pardon from a needy statesman, and 
 settled down to die in Plymouth, where the ale was 
 so good, and the company so congenial. He shares 
 with Bartholomew Roberts the throne of English 
 piracy. Those two alone, of the many who were 
 called to the profession, practised it ever with a 
 certain style, with some pretensions to the grand 
 manner. 
 
 There is much literature concerning Ward. 
 There are several ballads, of varying merit, de- 
 scribing an imaginary fight between his cruiser 
 and a ship called the Rainbow, a King's ship sent 
 to capture him. As Professor Laughton has pointed 
 out, the real Rainbow never fought with Ward. 
 Perhaps the name Rainbow is a corruption or 
 popular version of Tramontana, the name of a small 
 cruiser, which may once have chased him in the 
 Irish Channel. In addition to the ballads, there is 
 a play called "A Christian turn'd Turk," by a 
 
84 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 poet named Robert Daborne. The play treats of 
 Ward and his associates. It is based upon two 
 chapbooks concerning him; the one called "Newes 
 from Sea" (dated 1609), the other (far superior) 
 by Andrew Barker, called "A True and Certaine 
 Report," first published in the same year. There 
 are numerous contemporary references to him. 
 The best known is that in Ben Jonson's "Al- 
 chemist," act v, scene 2. There are others in 
 Howell's Letters; in a play by Dekker ("If it be 
 not a good Play"), in Donne's 15th Elegy, and in 
 the "Observations of Captain John Smith." More 
 trustworthy authorities concerning him are in the 
 Venetian Series of State Papers, 1603- 16 10; and 
 in the Irish Series of State Papers, 1606- 1608. It 
 may be added that the Sieur de Breves, a French 
 Ambassador, gives Ward, or "Wer," the credit 
 of having taught the Moorish pirates to cruise in 
 sailing-ships. Until his coming they relied on 
 their galleys, which were excellent, but severely 
 limited in their application to the art of piracy. 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 85 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 1 
 
 It is not known where John Jennings was born; 
 but it was almost certainly near the sea; and per- 
 haps we should not be far wrong in saying that 
 his parents were fisher folk, living on the South 
 Coast. He was born, certainly, of poor parents; 
 for his nameless biographer tells us that "his edu- 
 cation was so meane and low, he could neither 
 write nor read." The date of his birth does not 
 appear, but possibly 1570, or a few years earlier, 
 would be near the truth. He grew up "wholly 
 addicted to martial courses, and especially in the 
 
 1 The authorities for the life of Captain John Jennings 
 are : ( 1 ) A chapbook of "The Lives, Apprehensions, Ar- 
 raignments and Executions of the 19 late Pyrates, 
 namely, Capt. Harris, Jennings, Longcastle, Downes, 
 Haulsey, and their companions, as they were severally 
 indited on St. Margret's Hill, in Southwark, on the 22 
 of December last and executed on the Friday following. 
 London. Printed for John Busby the Elder ( 1609) ; 
 4to; black letter; 30 pp." This document is very 
 brightly and freshly written and generally accurate in 
 that part of it which relates to our hero. (2) The 
 documents in the Record Office (Cal. S. P. Dom. 1603- 
 
86 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 manly resolution of sea-faring men." When he 
 was a boy he shipped himself to sea, to scrub the 
 cans in the galley, to say his compass to the 
 boatswain, and to be whipped at the capstan every 
 Monday morning, so that his ship might have a 
 fair wind. When he grew older, he took his share 
 in the work aloft, and learned how to point and 
 parcel, how to hold his own in a forecastle, and 
 how to load and fire a great gun. "I grew," he 
 says, "to beare the name of a skilful marriner. . . . 
 I grew ambitious straight, to have a whole com- 
 
 10 ; S. P. Venetian, 1607-10, and (especially) Irish 
 Series, 1608-10). 
 
 An entry in the Stationers' register mentions a poem 
 by Jennings. The entry runs : 
 
 ipno Marcij [1610-1] 
 Richard Jones Entred for his Copyes, 
 
 Captayne Jenninges his songe, whiche 
 he made in the Marshalsey and songe a 
 little before his death. Item the second 
 parte of the "George Aloo" and the 
 " Swiftestake " (Sweepstake) beinge both 
 ballades. 
 Both poems appear to have perished. The first part 
 of the second ballad, " The George Aloe (of Looe) and 
 the Sweepstake, too" (quoted in "Two Noble Kins- 
 men"), may be seen in Professor Child's "English and 
 Scottish Popular Ballads," vol. v, p. 133, 4, 5. 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 87 
 
 mand, and held it baseness to live under checke." 
 He "likt well," he says, "to see a captain give 
 an order, and he obeyed on the instant." He also 
 "likt well" to riot ashore, with good Plymouth 
 ale, and other carnal matters, not obtainable by the 
 foremost hand, when at sea. 
 
 As he saw no chance of rising to a command in 
 the navy or in the merchant service, he resolved 
 to command independently. In some seaport he 
 gathered a "retchless crue" of rioters together; 
 led them to the cutting out of a ship in the harbour, 
 and ran away with her to sea. This was in the 
 last years of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, at a 
 time when the King of Spain was at war with 
 Holland. Jennings* first move was to make for 
 himself "a safe refuge and retirement" in Dun- 
 kirk; probably by a money payment to the 
 governor; and then having obtained a base, where 
 he could revictual and careen, he began to play 
 the pirate and to scour the Channel. He did not 
 attack the English ; but like John Ward, his great 
 contemporary, he found his account in 
 The jovial Dutchman 
 As he met on the main. 
 
88 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 It is possible that at this time he was a Roman 
 Catholic, and that he omitted to attack the French 
 and Spanish ships on religious grounds. How- 
 ever, there could have been few Spanish ships 
 either safe to attack or worth attacking so far to 
 the north; and no doubt the "Dutch fly-boats, 
 pinks, and passengers" brought his gang enough 
 good spoils; both of "ready chinkes" and prov- 
 ender. He soon became notorious. The Dutch 
 complained to the English government; and ships 
 were sent to cruise for him. His own ship, like 
 most pirate ships, was chosen from many prizes 
 for her speed. By his ship's speed and his own 
 vigilance he escaped the cruisers for a long time; 
 but at last, through too much aqua-vitae, or an 
 unlucky shot, he was caught, and carried to 
 England, where he was lodged in the Marshalsea 
 in irons, to wait for the next gaol delivery. His 
 ship was either restored to her owners or sold to 
 cover expenses. The terror of the Channel was 
 now a plucked crow in a cage, with nothing to 
 expect but a hempen cord, and present death at 
 Wapping Stairs. 
 
 His sister heard of his arrest, and at once 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 89 
 
 began to petition the merchants he had robbed, 
 that they should not press their suits. Her brother, 
 she told them, was a man who might be of die 
 greatest service to them; he was a reformed 
 character, who had pledged his honour to live 
 virtuously in the future; he was a man of whom 
 any country might be proud; and much more to 
 the same tune. Was this a man to send to the 
 gallows, with your common Jesuit and your pick- 
 purse? Why? It was "proudly spoken" of 
 Captain Jennings, "that not a man in Christendom 
 could stop a leak under water better than he"; if 
 "without boasting" (as he himself says), "so wel" 
 as he. It was true that he had been a little fresh 
 or so; but then the sea air, and youth, were great 
 provocatives; and it was, after all, by men like 
 Jennings that our imperial destiny was maintained. 
 By blarney of this kind, and by suggesting that 
 the courage and energy of their prisoner might 
 really do them good service, the girl persuaded 
 the merchants to petition the Queen for the life of 
 him who had robbed them. Jennings was pardoned 
 for his two worst offences; his prison charges 
 were paid; and one of the Holland merchants 
 
po A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 (who perhaps feared a relapse) gave him the com- 
 mand of a fine fly-boat, and sent him to sea to 
 carry wool and wine. 
 
 He did not succeed as a sea-captain. Aboard 
 that Holland fly-boat there was "barratry of the 
 master and mate," if nothing worse, so that she 
 did not pay for her tar and tallow. The pay of a 
 sea-captain was small, and the proud heart of 
 Jennings did not like the reproofs of his employers. 
 The fly-boat was strongly built, and no doubt 
 carried half-a-dozen quick-firing guns. Jennings 
 waited for a good opportunity, corrupted the 
 hearts of his sailors, and then ran away with ship, 
 crew, and furniture, to try the fortune of the sea 
 once more, "on the bonny coasts of Barbary." As 
 he steered south, he sighted a Spanish caravel. 
 He fired his little guns into her, laid her aboard, 
 and made her his prize. Then he sailed on again, 
 till he reached the Barbary coast. 
 
 As soon as he arrived at Safi he was seized by 
 the Dey and flung into prison; where he found 
 other English pirates, waiting for the bowstring 
 or the galleys, to tell him the reason for this harsh 
 reception. The pirates had agreed with the Dey, 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 91 
 
 it seems, on the half-share system. The Dey sup- 
 plied hands, stores, a fortified base, and good 
 careenage; the pirates gave in return one-half of 
 all their spoils, either slaves or goods, at the end 
 of each cruise. The pirates had broken their con- 
 tracts, and the Dey had therefore imprisoned 
 them; sending Jennings with the rest to deter 
 him from a similar lapse in time to come. He 
 stayed in prison till he had paid to the Dey a 
 large share of his Spanish prize. Then he was 
 released, with permission to fit his fly-boat for the 
 sea. 
 
 We cannot date his coming to San*; but it 
 must have been a few years after the accession of 
 James I. England was then at peace with the 
 world. There was no "flourishing employment" 
 for seamen. Those "haughty hearts" who had 
 been with Drake at Cartagena, with Newport at 
 Truxillo, or with Essex at Fayal, picking up "a 
 few crowns, a few reasonable booties" had now 
 "to picke up crums at a low ebb"; and to vail 
 their sea-bonnets to "such as pearkt up their 
 heads to authority in this time of quiet." There 
 was nothing stirring against Spain. The ships 
 
92 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 which had humbled Sidonia lay rotting at their 
 moorings, with grass growing on their decks. 
 Such men-of-war as were commissioned were 
 manned by vagrants and thieves, who deserted 
 when they could. In these circumstances, any 
 sailor who had seen the "daies of bickering," and 
 had a passion for glory in him, was strongly 
 tempted to turn pirate. A very great number of 
 them did so. During the first years of the reign 
 of James I the seamen who had made Elizabeth's 
 navy what it was brought their skill and craft to 
 the making of a pirate navy, which can only be 
 compared to the buccaneer fleets of Morgan, 
 Mansvelt, Sawkins, and Edward Davis, some 
 seventy years later. In the Mediterranean, they 
 made themselves bases among the Turks and 
 Moors. They settled in hordes at Algiers, at 
 Safi, and at Tunis. They taught the Moors the 
 use of square sails, and filled the gaps in their 
 crews with Mussulmans and renegades to whom 
 piracy was a second nature and an honour- 
 able calling. From the crook of the Algerine 
 mole, and from the sharp gut of the Goletta, these 
 English seamen sailed out against the merchants 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 93 
 
 of Spain and Italy. They were a ruinous hindrance 
 to all Mediterranean traders. Their spoils were 
 enormous; and they were able to live in luxury 
 and riot, "more like princes than pirates," after 
 paying the Dey his share. 
 
 In the Channel, they made their bases among 
 the creeks and bays of South-Western Ireland, 
 notably in Dingle Bay and Bantry Bay, where 
 there are sheltering islands, to hide them from any 
 wandering cruiser. They had little to fear from the 
 King's ships; for almost the only cruiser on the 
 coast was a small, ill-manned ship of 200 tons, 
 which could only keep the seas during the summer 
 months. The pirate ships were generally better 
 found than the King's ships; and, as they were 
 kept clean by frequent careening, they had the 
 heels of them if it came to a chase. "The English 
 are good sailors," said one who knew, "but they 
 are better pirates." Before Jennings fell, an 
 organized fleet of pirates kept the south coast of 
 Ireland in a state of siege, for weeks at a time. 
 They were disciplined like a fleet of King's ships, 
 and so powerful that they could land 300 men 
 at any point, at short notice. The business which 
 
94 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 Jennings followed was at least carried on in some 
 style. 
 
 While he lay at Safi, some allies of John Ward, 
 two Tunisian pirates, named Bishop and Roope, 
 put in there for wood and water. Jennings made 
 a compact with them, and accompanied them on a 
 roving cruise, in which they took a huge booty, to 
 spend in riot ashore. Bishop quarrelled with his 
 partners during their stay ashore: so that Roope 
 and Jennings sailed without him, when they next 
 put to sea. Roope's ship sprang a leak during the 
 cruise, so he and his seamen came aboard Captain 
 Jennings*. They took a Spanish fly-boat, and sent 
 her north, in the care of some pirates, for sale in 
 Dunkirk, but she was captured by an English 
 man-of-war. 
 
 After this capture, the allies sailed into the 
 Channel, and snapped up some French wine ships 
 off the Isle of Wight. Off the Land's End, they 
 took a ship of Bristol, with a valuable general 
 cargo, which they trans-shipped. Off the Scilly 
 Islands they took a French ship "laden with 
 brasse, and other rich commodities"; and then 
 they ran short of provisions, and bore up for Balti- 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 95 
 
 more. At Baltimore they sent in the purser "to 
 deale with the Kernes for hogges to victuall withal." 
 They had a tender with them, a small Spanish 
 caravel, a lately taken prize, when they appeared 
 off the town, so that the Baltimore authorities, 
 seeing the ships in company, could have had no 
 doubt of what they were. Jennings realized that 
 the authorities might not care to sell their hogs to 
 people of his way of life. In the long-boat which 
 bore the purser, he sent "a token of familiaritie" 
 to the governor of the town; the said token being 
 "19 or 20 chests of sugers" and 4 chests of fine 
 scarlet coral. For this bountiful bribe they received 
 permission to wood, water and reprovision; and 
 also, it seems, to sell some of their spoils to the 
 citizens. While he lay at Baltimore, Jennings "fell 
 in liking with an Irish woman" whom he carried 
 with him to sea, in spite of the growlings of his 
 men, who swore that the compass would never 
 traverse right, nor a fair wind blow with a female 
 living aft. It was all through hsr, they said, that 
 they met the King's cruiser as they left Baltimore 
 Road; and it was all through her that they had to 
 cut and run for it, instead of making her a prize. 
 
96 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 A few days later, they had another stroke of bad 
 luck, undoubtedly due to the presence of a female 
 aboard. They attacked two Spanish ships who 
 fought them courageously and gave them a batter- 
 ing. Ten good men were killed and more than 
 twenty badly hit, Jennings himself being one of 
 the wounded. 
 
 At the end of a watch, of a watch so severe 
 There \ws ccarcely a man left was able for to steer, 
 There was scarcely a man left could fire off a gun, 
 And the blood down the deck like a river it did run. 
 
 Jennings had to sheer off in distress under such 
 sail as he could carry and be thankful that the 
 Spaniards did not give chase. The seamen made 
 some repairs, and then held a fo'c's'le council about 
 the Irish woman in the cabin. "See what comes," 
 they said, "of carrying women to sea." They 
 agreed in the end that their defeat was "a just 
 judgment of God against them"; not for any little 
 robberies or murders which they had done, but for 
 "suffering their captaine . . to wallow in his 
 luxuries." Why should he have his luxury any 
 more than the rest of the crew? Captain Roope 
 was insistent with this question till the crew swore 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 97 
 
 that they would put an end to these Babylonish 
 practices once for all. "In a giddy manner," they 
 broke into the captain's cabin, and "boldly began 
 to reprove his conduct." Wounded as he was, 
 John Jennings started from his cot, seized "a 
 trunchion," or handy belaying pin, and banged 
 about him till he had "beaten them all to a bay." 
 As he got his breath, they rushed in upon him a 
 second time, and drove him aft into the gun-room. 
 He bolted the door against them; but they fired on 
 him through the key-hole. Then Captain Roope 
 quieted the mutineers, set a guard at the gun-room 
 door, and took command of the ship. 
 
 He was "a man of more stern and obdurate na- 
 ture than Jennings was." He hazed his hands with 
 unnecessary work till they longed for the old or- 
 der, with good Babylonish Jennings in command. 
 They released their old captain ; and as soon as they 
 had taken another ship, they put Captain Roope 
 from command, and restored Jennings to his doxy 
 and his quarterdeck. 
 
 The taking of this new ship was a serious matter. 
 She was a richly-laden Amsterdam ship, of 180 
 tons, manned by French and Dutch sailors. She 
 
9 8 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 fought valiantly, for several hours, costing the 
 pirates a sore mauling and the loss of sixty men 
 killed and wounded. Jennings had been shaken by 
 his wound, and by the late mutiny. His ship was 
 battered and broken. He was short of men and 
 provisions; his decks were full of wounded; and 
 "he desired now in heart he might make his 
 peace . . . although with the tender of all he had." 
 His first step was to put in at Baltimore, where he 
 hoped to submit himself to the Lord Clanricarde, 
 and to obtain refreshments. When he came to 
 Baltimore, he sent in his boat with another present 
 to buy him a fair reception, but his boat's crew 
 deserted, without making any overtures, and 
 Jennings, fearing that his men had been arrested, 
 put to sea at once, intending to sail to the Shannon, 
 to try the Earl of Thomond. 
 
 On his way to the Shannon, he called at various 
 ports to get refreshments. His men rummaged 
 through most of the towns on the coast, "and 
 impeacht even their ordinary trade," though Lord 
 Danvers did his best to stop them by ordering all 
 provisions to be carried far inland. In the middle 
 of January 1609, the two ships anchored in the 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 99 
 
 Shannon, not far from Limerick, in the country of 
 the Earl of Thomond, to whom the pirates wrote 
 the following letter : 
 
 Right Honourable, we beseech your Lordship to 
 suffer us so far to imboulden ourselves upon your lord- 
 ship's favour, as to be our mediator unto our Lord 
 Deputy, for ye pardoning of our offences, assuring your 
 Lordship that we never offended any of the King's sub- 
 jects. If your L will undertake the obtaining of our 
 pardon, we will deliver over, unto my L deputy and 
 your L the ship that we have now, with such lading and 
 commodities as we have hereunder written; further 
 desiring your L in regard of the foulness of the weather, 
 besides the eating up of my vitles that we may hear from 
 the Lord deputy within this 14 dayes, for longer we may 
 not stay ; for ye country upon your L command will not 
 relieve us with any victuals. Theis are the parcels and 
 commodities. 
 
 20 peces of ordnance, saker and minion (5 pr and 
 4 pr M L guns). 
 
 7 murtherers (small B L guns of a mortar type, 
 firing dice shot). 
 40 chests of sugars. 
 
 4 bags of pepper. 
 12 ? and chists of sinamond. 
 
 4 bags of Spanish woll. 
 
 1 barrell of waxe & a boykett. 
 
 4 chists of soap. 
 
ioo A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 I canne of brasse, with cabells, anchers & all neces- 
 saries fitting a ship of her burthen, being 300 tons; all 
 wh shall be delivered if it please ye L deputie; I onlie 
 desire a general pardon my self, and these men, whose 
 names shall be written underneath; with a passe for all 
 my companie to travell where it please them, for the wh 
 we shall wish all increase of happiness to yr L from ye 
 River of Shannon this 23 of Jan. 1608. 
 
 Your L (word servants erased in another ink) to 
 commaunde 
 
 John Jeninges 
 
 kldwell als cadwallader trevor 
 
 GlLB ROOPE 
 
 Peter Jacobson. 
 The Earl of Thomond received this letter, and 
 weighed it carefully. By means of spies "he dis- 
 cerned a disposition" among some of the pirates 
 "even to enterprise upon their fellows." He wished 
 to enter into no composition with such a man as 
 Jennings if other means could be found to bring 
 him in. He therefore temporized; sent his sons 
 aboard to see the pirate ships, and allowed them 
 to take costly gifts from their captains. One of his 
 spies offered to take Jennings single handed; but 
 for this bold deed the spy demanded the whole of 
 Jennings' booty. The Earl gave him no encourage- 
 ment but told him he might try, if he wished. 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 101 
 
 Meanwhile he continued to sound Captain Roope 
 and others of the pirates, for signs of disaffection. 
 
 He did not feel himself strong enough to attack 
 the ships; but by March 1609, he had engaged 
 four of the pirates — Trevor, Roope, a man called 
 Drake, and Peter Jacobson, the sailing master — to 
 deliver ship and goods to his Majesty, when called 
 upon. On the night of the 20th March, he went 
 aboard her with a guard. The traitors handed 
 over the ship, as they had promised, and though 
 Jennings, or some faithful hand, destroyed the 
 Earl's right arm, the struggle was soon over, and 
 the sea-hawk was safely caged in one of the Earl's 
 gaols. 
 
 Jennings' ship was not worth very much. Most 
 of her men left her, and put to sea in the prize, 
 directly her captain had been taken. The Earl 
 overhauled her as soon as he could. He wrote how 
 "the Comodities aboard is butt ordinairie, and a 
 lytell sugers wh is so blacke as yt is worth but 
 lytell in this land." She is very chargeable, he 
 says, lying in the best road in the river. She could 
 not be careened, as she was "to weke," and she 
 was so much battered, she was really worthless. 
 
102 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 What became of her does not appear. Her guns, her 
 chists of sinamond, and her solitary boykett were 
 put ashore, and the rest of her was probably sold 
 to the highest bidder, for firewood and building 
 material. The Earl thought that her seamen car- 
 ried off the best of the spoil in their "great 
 breeches." His wound had kept him from watch- 
 ing them at the time of the capture; so the booty, 
 setting aside Jennings, "in his light doublet and 
 hose," was but paltry. As for Jennings, he was 
 sent over to Chester, in July 1609; and from 
 Chester, by easy stages, he came to London for trial, 
 and lodged once more in the Marshalsea prison. 
 
 In the Marshalsea, he behaved himself with be- 
 coming courage. "He lived a careless life," says 
 his biographer. "One being merry drinking with 
 him once, demanded of him" how he had lived 
 at sea? He replied that he had ever rejoiced 
 more to hear the cannon than the sound of the 
 church bell, and that he fought not "as chickens 
 fight," for meat; "but for store of gold, to main- 
 tain riot." At another time, in hot weather, as he 
 sat drinking with friends in the prison parlour, it 
 was observed that he sat with his face in the sun, 
 
CAPTAIN JOHN JENNINGS 103 
 
 in contempt of headache. "I shall hang in the sun, 
 shortly," he said, "and then my neck will ache. I 
 do but practise now." Later, in the autumn, there 
 was a fall of snow; so that he could cheer up his 
 heart with a game at snowballs. Then his old 
 friend Captain Harris, whom he had known in 
 Barbary, was committed to the Marshalsea; to 
 comfort him with fellowship and cups of sack. It 
 was reported that the two were "mad drunke" 
 together; but that was calumny. They were only 
 "orderly merry" together; and they had now but 
 little time either for merriment or for sorrow. At 
 the trial, Jennings did his best to save two of his 
 crew; who, as he told the Court, had been com- 
 pelled to turn pirates at the pistol muzzle. "Alas, 
 my Lord," he cried to the Judge, "what would 
 you have these poor men say . . if anything they 
 have done they were compelled unto it by me; 'tis 
 I must answer for it." 
 
 All three were condemned in spite of his pleading 
 (Dec. 3rd, 1609) ; but five days later they obtained 
 a respite; as the King hoped to obtain information 
 from them, to help him in the extirpation of other 
 pirates. It was not till the 22nd of December that 
 they were led out to suffer. John Buries, the curate 
 
104 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 of St. Bennet's, attended John Jennings. The 
 others had their own priests, and as their irons 
 were knocked off they raised their voices in the 
 penitential psalms. Buries was very grieved for Jen- 
 nings. "A marvellous proper man," he notes sadly. 
 He might have been a hero, under a better King. 
 
 They were rowed to Wapping in wherries, to 
 the sound of the rogue's march beaten on a drum. 
 They looked their last on ships and river, glad, it 
 would seem, to be at last free of them. It was a 
 fine sunny morning; and the sailors on the ships at 
 anchor bade them cheer up, as they rowed past. 
 When they came to the Stairs, Jennings made a 
 speech (there was a great crowd), bidding his two 
 men to follow him as fearlessly as they had followed 
 him of old, when the shot was flying. Some pirates 
 on these occasions used to tear up their "crimson 
 taffety breeches," to give the rags as keepsakes to 
 those who stood by. No breeches were torn on 
 this occasion. The dying men spoke briefly to the 
 crowd, regretting their sins: then prayed for a 
 few moments with their priests, and died cheerfully, 
 singing psalms, one after the other, "like good 
 fellows." 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 105 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 
 
 In the year 1683-4 some eminent London mer- 
 chants, fired by the perusal of the buccaneer 
 accounts of South America (the journals of Sharp, 
 Ringrose, Cox, and others), conceived a scheme 
 for opening up a trade with Peru and Chili. They 
 subscribed among themselves a large sum for the 
 equipment and lading of a ship. The Duke of 
 York, then Lord Admiral, gave the project his 
 princely patronage. A ship, the Cygnet, was 
 chosen and fitted for the voyage, and a trusty 
 master mariner, one esteemed by Henry Morgan, 
 was appointed her captain. This was Charles 
 Swan, or Swann, a man whose surname eminently 
 fitted him for the command of a ship so christened. 
 Following the custom of the time, two merchants, 
 or supercargoes, took passage with Captain Swan 
 to dispose of the lading, and to open up the trade. 
 The Cygnet sailed from the Thames with a costly 
 general cargo, which was designed not only to 
 
106 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 establish just relations with the Spanish-Americans, 
 but to pay her owners from 50 to 75 per cent. As 
 the voyage was not without interest we propose to 
 consider some of its most striking events. 
 
 We are sorry to have to state that by October 
 1684, Captain Swan had become a buccaneer, and 
 his ship, the Cygnet, the flagship of a small squadron 
 cruising on the coast of Peru, against the subjects 
 of the King of Spain, with whom we were then at 
 peace. Swan had met with Captain Edward Davis, 
 a buccaneer of fame, and the meeting had been too 
 much for him. When the clay pot meets the iron 
 pot there is usually a final ruin; and the meeting 
 put an end to the dreams of a South American 
 trade. "There was much joy on all sides," says 
 the chronicler, writing of this meeting, but presum- 
 ably the greater joy was Davis's, who gave Swan 
 an immediate hint that the Cygnet was too deeply 
 fraught to make a cruiser. "Therefore (Captain 
 Swan) by the consent of the supercargoes, got up 
 all his goods on Deck, and sold to any that would 
 buy upon trust; the rest was thrown overboard into 
 the sea, except fine goods, as Silks, Muslins, 
 Stockings, &c, and except the Iron." The iron 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 107 
 
 was saved for ballast. The other goods made very 
 delicate wear for the fo'c's'le hands. 
 
 When all was ready, the allied forces sailed to 
 take Guayaquil, but met with no luck there, through 
 "one of Captain Davis's men, who showed himself 
 very forward to go to the town, and upbraided 
 others with faintheartedness: yet afterwards con- 
 fessed (that he) privately cut the string that the 
 Guide was made fast with (and) when he thought 
 the Guide was got far enough from us, he cried out 
 that the Pilot was gone, and that somebody had 
 cut the Cord that tied him . . . and our consterna- 
 tion was great, being in the dark and among 
 Woods"; so that "the design was wholly dashed." 
 After this they sailed to the Bay of Panama, where 
 they planned to lie at anchor to wait for the yearly 
 treasure fleet from Lima. While they waited, 
 Captain Swan sent a letter over the Isthmus, with 
 a message to his employers. 
 
 March 4, 1685. 
 
 Panama Road. 
 Charles Swann to Capt. John Wise. 
 
 My voyage is at an end. In the Straits of Magellan I 
 had nine men run from me in one night, after they saw 
 
108 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 that they could not prevail with me to play the rogue. 
 But God's justice overtook them, for after weathering 
 Cape Victory we met with an extreme storm of long 
 continuance, which drove me down to lat 55 ° 30' S and 
 in which the ship to which they deserted was lost. Then 
 I came to Valdivia, when I had two men killed under a 
 flag of truce, after three days' parley and all oaths 
 human and divine. An ambuscade of between one and 
 two hundred men came out, and fired upon a poor eight 
 of us in the yawl. But God punished them likewise, as 
 we hear, we killing three of their captains and some 
 others. It is too long to give you an account of all my 
 troubles, which were chiefly owing to the fact that the 
 ship was meant to be run away with. In Nicoya the 
 rest of my men left me, so that, having no one to sail 
 the ship, I was forced to join them. So that now I am 
 in hostility with the Spaniards, and have taken and 
 burnt some towns, and have forced the President of 
 Panama to send me two men he had taken from us. 
 The same day 270 new men came to me, and we are go- 
 ing to take in 200 more that they left behind. We shall 
 soon be 900 men in the South Seas. Assure my em- 
 ployers that I do all I can to preserve their interest, and 
 that what I do now I could in no wise prevent. So de- 
 sire them to do what they can with the King for me, for 
 as soon as I can I shall deliver myself to the King's jus- 
 tice and I had rather die than live skulking like a vaga- 
 bond for fear of death. The King might make this 
 whole Kingdom of Peru tributary to him in two years' 
 time. We now await the Spanish fleet that brings the 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 109 
 
 money to Panama. We were resolved to fight them be- 
 fore we had reached this strength, and had lain in wait 
 6 months for them, but now we hear that they are at 
 sea, and expect them every day. If we have success 
 against them we shall make a desperate alarm all Europe 
 over. I have some money which I wish were with you, 
 for my wife. I shall, with God's help, do things which 
 (were it with my Prince's leave) would make her a 
 lady; but now I cannot tell but it may bring me to a 
 halter. But if it doth my comfort is that I shall die for 
 that I cannot help. Pray present my faithful love to my 
 dear wife, and assure her she is never out of my mind. 
 
 After failing in his attempt upon the treasure 
 fleet, Captain Davis, the Buccaneer Commodore, 
 took his squadron towards Rio Lejo, on the western 
 coast of Mexico, where, "about 8 leagues from 
 the shore," at eight in the forenoon, 520 buc- 
 caneers, mostly English, went down the sides of 
 their ships into their boats. There were thirty-one 
 canoas for their accommodation, some of them of 
 nearly forty feet in length, and five or six feet 
 broad. They were "dug-outs" of the most prim- 
 itive type, but the buccaneers were not particular 
 as to the build of their crafts. They settled upon 
 their thwarts; one of them piped a song, "and the 
 
no A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 rowers, sitting well in order," began to plough the 
 wine-dark sea. 
 
 At two in the afternoon, a squall beat down upon 
 them. The sea rose with tropical swiftness, so 
 that in half an hour "some of our Canoas were 
 half full of water, yet kept two men constantly 
 heaving it out." They could do nothing but put 
 right before the wind; yet with craft so crank as 
 the canoas this expedient was highly dangerous. 
 "The small Canoas," it is true, "being most light 
 and buoyant, mounted nimbly over the surges, but 
 the great heavy Canoas lay like Logs in the Sea, 
 ready to be swallowed by every foaming Billow." 
 However, the danger did not last very long. The 
 squall blew past, and, when the wind abated, the 
 sea went down; so that by "7 a clock in the 
 Evening, it was quite calm and the Sea as smooth 
 as a Mill-pond." They passed that night in the 
 canoas five leagues from the shore, huddled any- 
 how, with cramped limbs. In the morning they 
 stretched themselves, and lay by, till another 
 squall set them pulling for the land, like the sea- 
 men in the temperance hymn. In the night of 
 August 10 they entered Rio Lejo harbour, and 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET in 
 
 slept peacefully in the shelter of the great red 
 mangrove trees, which rose up "plentiful and 
 thick" from the very lip of the sea. 
 
 When day dawned they rowed up the Lejo river. 
 A Spanish breastwork stood upon the river bank 
 to guard the passage; but its garrison was com- 
 posed of Nicaraguan Indians, a race "very Melan- 
 choly and Thoughtful, and presently they ran away 
 to give notice of our Approach." The buccaneers 
 were a little vexed at this example of the effect of 
 melancholy, but did not allow it to depress them. 
 They landed from their canoas, selected a boat- 
 guard of fifty of their most intelligent hands and 
 drew up the remainder into battalia, according to 
 the Art of War. "Captain Townley, with eighty 
 of the briskest Men marched before, Captain Swan 
 with ioo Men marched next, Captain Davis with 
 170 Men marched next, and Captain Knight 
 brought up the Rear." Then, with many joyful 
 anticipations, they took to the road, across "a 
 Champion Country, of long grassy Savannah, and 
 spots of high Woods," meaning to surprise the City 
 of Leon. 
 
 The City of Leon had a great reputation among 
 
112 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 them; for, although it was of no great size, and 
 "of no great Trade, and therefore not rich in 
 Money," it had been praised in print, some thirty 
 years before, by "the English Mexican" Mr. 
 Thomas Gage. We read that it was "very curi- 
 ously built" on "a sandy Soil, which soon drinks 
 up all the Rain that falls." It had a famous rope- 
 walk, and a number of sugar-works, besides cattle 
 farms and tallow boileries. The houses were of 
 white stone roofed with a vivid red pantile, "for 
 the chief delight of the inhabitants consisteth in 
 their houses, and in the pleasure of the Country 
 adjoyning, and in the abundance of all things for 
 the life of man, more than in any extraordinary 
 riches, which there are not so much enjoyed as in 
 other parts of America. They are contented with 
 fine gardens, with variety of singing birds and 
 parrets, with plenty of fish and flesh, which is 
 cheap, and with gay houses, and so lead a delicious 
 lasie and idle life. . . . And especially from the 
 pleasure of this City is all that Province of Nicar- 
 agua, called by the Spaniards Mahomet's Paradise, 
 the Paradise of America/' 
 
 At about 3 o'clock that afternoon, Captain 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 113 
 
 Townley, "only with his eighty Men," marched 
 into the square to taste "the pleasure of this City." 
 There were 200 Spanish horse, and five companies 
 of infantry drawn up to oppose him; but, as nearly 
 always happened in these tussles, "two or three of 
 their Leaders being knock'd down, the rest fled." 
 Captain Townley marched in, and piled arms in 
 the Plaza. At decent intervals the other companies 
 joined him; "and Captain Knight with as many 
 Men as he could incourage to march, came in about 
 6, but he left many Men tired on the road; these, 
 as is usual, came dropping in one or two at a 
 time, as they were able." Among the tired men, 
 "was a stout old Grey-headed Man, aged about 
 eighty-four, who had served under Oliver in the 
 time of the Irish Rebellion . . . and had followed 
 Privateering ever since." He was "a very merry 
 hearty old Man, and always used to declare he 
 would never take quarter"; so that, when the 
 Spaniards surrounded him, as he sat resting by the 
 roadside, he gaily "discharged his Gun amongst 
 them" keeping "a Pistol still charged." The 
 Spaniards drew back and "shot him dead at a 
 distance." His name was Swan. 
 
ii4 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than 
 war. "Mr. Smith was tired also," and Mr. Smith 
 was neatly lazoed, and dragged before the Spanish 
 Governor before he was well awake. "He being ex- 
 amined how many Men we were, said iooo at the 
 City, and 500 at the Canoas, which made well for us 
 at the Canoas, who straggling about every day might 
 easily have been destroyed." Mr. Smith dipped 
 his pen in earthquake and eclipse till the Spanish 
 Governor "sent in a Flag of Truce," in the hope 
 of coming to a composition, and getting rid of such 
 an army. The buccaneers received the Flag with 
 all due ceremony, and demanded some £70,000 as 
 a ransom for the town, with a further douceur of 
 "as much Provision as would victual 1000 Men 
 four Months, and Mr. Smith to be ransomed." 
 However, a ransom of such proportions was not 
 readily forthcoming. The pirates waited patiently 
 for a few days pillaging "all they could rob," and 
 then set fire to the place: 
 
 And when the town burned all in flame 
 With tara tantara away we all came. 
 
 The Spaniards "sent in Mr. Smith," the next 
 morning, "and had a gentlewoman in exchange." 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 115 
 
 An impartial judge must admit that they had the 
 better of the bargain. 
 
 Having destroyed the town of Leon, the buc- 
 caneers marched upon Rio Lejo, "a pretty large 
 town with three Churches" some two leagues from 
 the harbour. It was a very sickly place, never 
 free from a noisome smell, and had therefore "an 
 Hospital" with "a fine Garden belonging to it." 
 The way thither was defended by a very strong 
 redoubt, yet their labour was but lost that built it, 
 for "we fired but two guns, and they all ran away." 
 Rio Lejo was rich in flour, "Pitch, Tar and Cord- 
 age; These things we wanted, and therefore we 
 sent them all aboard." The Pirates obtained also 
 a "purchase" of "150 Beefs," and "visited the 
 Beef-Farm every day, and the Sugar Works, and 
 brought away every Man his Load." In spite of 
 the noisome smell, they passed a pleasant week at 
 Rio Lejo, "and then some of our destructive Crew 
 set fire to the Houses," and "we marched away 
 and left them burning." The army then returned 
 to the ships. The next day the fleet divided, and 
 Davis and Swan parted company. William Dam- 
 pier, who tells us most of these things, left the 
 
n6 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 service of Davis here, and joined his fortunes with 
 Swan's. He had been Davis's navigator for some 
 time and he filled some similar post under Swan, 
 who had perhaps attracted him as a weak but 
 cultivated man will attract the cultivated strong 
 man who has no one else to talk with. Captain 
 Swan lingered for some days more at the anchor- 
 age, and then cruised slowly to the north, along 
 the surf-beaten Western Coast. Captain Townley, 
 the leader of the eighty brisk Men, remained as 
 his vice-admiral. 
 
 The history of their cruise is a history of bold 
 incompetence. They landed, and fought, and fell 
 ill, and sailed, and again landed ; but they got very 
 little save a knowledge of geography. When they 
 came as far to the north as Acapulco, it occurred 
 to them that they were in season to take the annual 
 galleon from Manila, a prize worth some half a 
 million of our money, and the constant dream of 
 every Pirate in the Pacific. Cavendish had taken 
 one such galleon a century before; and Rogers was 
 to take another some thirty years later. When the 
 Cygnet arrived near Acapulco the citizens were ex- 
 pecting her arrival. Had the buccaneers but filled 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 117 
 
 their provision casks at once, and proceeded to a 
 cruising station off Cape Corrientes, they could not 
 have failed of meeting with her. Had they met 
 her, they would probably have taken her. Had 
 they taken her, they would have shared some 
 £2000 apiece, in addition to the merchandise. It 
 was not to be. The brisk Captain Townley wasted 
 some precious time trying to cut out a ship from 
 Acapulco. Then some more precious time was 
 wasted in collecting provisions at places where 
 there was little to collect. By the time the Cygnet 
 was ready to cruise for the galleon, that golden 
 ark was safe in harbour, under the guns of a fort. 
 After a few more profitless adventures, Captain 
 Townley parted company. Swan then proposed 
 that the Cygnet should proceed to the East Indies 
 to cruise "off the Manila's." He had no intention 
 of "cruising" there; but without a lure of the 
 kind his men would never have consented; for 
 "some thought, such was their ignorance, that he 
 would carry them out of the World; for about 
 2 thirds of our Men did not think there was any 
 such Way to be found," as the Way across the 
 Pacific to Guahan and the Philippines, and even if 
 
u8 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 there were a way, they did not know how long a 
 passage they might have. Cavendish had made it 
 in forty-four, and Drake in sixty-eight days, but 
 the English books reckoned the distance to be but 
 6,000 miles, whereas all the Spanish "waggoners" 
 made it 7,000, or more. Even if it were but 6,000 
 miles they had scarcely enough food to carry them 
 so far. "We had not 60 days' provision, at a little 
 more than half a pint of Maiz a day for each Man, 
 and no other Provision, except three meals of salted 
 Jew- fish; and we had a great many Rats aboard, 
 which we could not hinder from eating part of our 
 Maiz." However, "the hope of gain" worked 
 "its Way through all Difficulties." The men 
 tightened their belts and promised themselves a 
 good dinner when they got ashore. The maize was 
 divided between the Cygnet and a little bark, which 
 was still cruising with her. At the end of March 
 1686, they took their departure from Cape Cor- 
 rientes, and stood out into the unknown, towards 
 dinnerless days, and what might come. 
 
 "In all this Voyage," says Dampier, "we did 
 not see one Fish." 
 
 Following Dampier's example, we shall not 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET no 
 
 trouble the reader "with an account of each day's 
 run," but hasten "to the less known parts of the 
 world." The hungry buccaneers made Guahan on 
 the 20th May. "It was well for Captain Swan that 
 we got sight of it before our Provisions was spent, 
 of which we had but enough for three days more, 
 for, as I was afterwards informed, the Men had 
 contrived, first to kill Captain Swan and eat him 
 when the Victuals was gone, and after him all of 
 us who were accessary in promoting the undertak- 
 ing this Voyage." Captain Swan made a season- 
 able jape on the occasion of his hearing this. "Ah, 
 Dampier," he said, "you would have made them 
 but a poor Meal," for "I" (explains Dampier) 
 "was as lean as the Captain was lusty and fleshy." 
 
 At Guahan the pirates received a present of six 
 Hogs, "most excellent Meat," the best that Dam- 
 pier "ever eat." Having eaten them, they salted 
 some fifty more, and "steered away" for Min- 
 danao, where they anchored on 18th July 1686. 
 
 When they arrived at Mindanao, most of the 
 seamen had had enough of roving. They "were 
 almost tired, and began to desire a quietus est" for 
 they had had a long cruise, and Captain Swan by 
 
120 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 one means or another (possibly through Dampier), 
 had given them a severe disciplining on the way. 
 "Indeed Captain Swan had his Men as much 
 under Command as if he had been in a King's 
 Ship." It was now open to him to retrieve his 
 credit by establishing a trade at Mindanao. He 
 could easily have obtained cloves and nutmegs 
 there in any quantity; for the Mindanayans were 
 eager to make an alliance with the English, and 
 would have given him "good Pennyworths" for 
 the £5,000 in gold which he had brought with him. 
 He seems to have had some intention of establish- 
 ing such a spice trade; but it came to nothing. 
 His men made merry ashore "with their Comrades 
 and Pagallies," and Captain Swan made bargains 
 with the Raja, who fooled him to the top of his 
 bent, and sponged upon him. By-and-by the crew 
 became mutinous, "all for want of action." They 
 took to selling the iron ballast for honey and arrack 
 "to make punch"; so that the ship was soon "by 
 the ears," with all hands "drunk and quarrelsome." 
 Then a young man came upon the Captain's pri- 
 vate journal "in which Captain Swan had inveighed 
 bitterly against most of his Men." This was 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 121 
 
 enough to draw the mutiny to a head. The sailors 
 were ready for anything. "Most of them despaired 
 of ever getting home and therefore did not care 
 what they did, or whither they went/' It struck 
 them that they would have less worry if they sailed 
 elsewhere, leaving Captain Swan with his Raja. 
 They got some of their drunken mates aboard, and 
 so set sail, leaving Captain Swan, with thirty-six 
 others, ashore at Mindanao. The Raja kept Cap- 
 tain Swan for a little while, and then caused him 
 to be upset from a canoe into the river, and stabbed 
 as he strove to swim ashore. That was the end of 
 Captain Charles Swan. 
 
 As for the Cygnet, with the "mad Crew," she 
 sailed from island to island at the sweet will of the 
 thirsty souls aboard her. She made a prolonged 
 stay at one of the Batan group, "which we called 
 Bashee Island, from a Liquor which we drank there 
 plentifully every day." "Indeed," says Dampier, 
 "from the plenty of this Liquor, and their plentiful 
 use of it, our Men called all these Islands the 
 Bashee Islands." 
 
 But even of Bashee there came satiety. After 
 some weeks they determined that "Bashee drink" 
 
122 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 was vanity; so they "weigh'd from there," and 
 wandered as far as Australia, and then stood west 
 for Sumatra. Presently they reached the Nicobar 
 Islands, where Dampier and two others went 
 ashore, having had enough of such shipmates. The 
 Cygnet* s men made some demur at their landing; 
 but at last agreed to let them go; so that on "a 
 fine clear Moonlight Night," as the newly landed 
 men were walking on the sands, they "saw her 
 under Sail," going out upon some further madness. 
 They watched her go, and thanked their stars that 
 they were quit of her. 
 
 "This mad fickle Crew were upon new Projects 
 again." They were going to Persia, no less; but 
 they never got there. They had to put in to the 
 Coromandel coast for water, and here "the main 
 Body were for going into the Mogul's Service." 
 "It was what these men had long been thinking 
 and talking of as a fine Thing," so now they put it 
 into practice. They throve mightily in the Mogul's 
 service; but they could not remain in it for very 
 long. Most of them crept back to the coast, to 
 ship themselves elsewhere, and some "went up 
 and down Plundering the Villages," till the Mogul's 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE CYGNET 123 
 
 hair was gray. Those who stayed by the Cygnet 
 tried to take her to the Red Sea. On the way they 
 took a rich Portuguese ship, which they gutted. 
 Later on, some of the Cygnet's men went off with 
 a New York slaver ; and at last the whole crew left 
 her, in order to go to Achin, "having heard there 
 was plenty of Gold there." Some sailors of another 
 vessel "undertook to carry her for England"; but 
 she was old and rotten; and her days above sea 
 were numbered. "In St. Augustin's Bay in Mada- 
 gascar" her crew went ashore, having broken their 
 hearts at her pumps ever since they joined her. In 
 St. Augustin's Bay she slowly filled to her port- 
 sills, and at last sank gracefully, her little blue 
 vane still fluttering, to puzzle the mermaids with 
 her bales of silk stockings. 
 
124 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 CAPTAIN ROBERT KNOX 
 
 Between the years 1690 and 1714, at odd times 
 between voyages, two sea captains used to meet 
 each other in London, dine together, shift their 
 tide , and then go off again trading to the coast or 
 hunting the never-caught galleon, as their mar- 
 vellous fates led them. Both had endured more 
 than man is usually given to endure, both had 
 tasted to the full of life's unexpectedness; but per- 
 haps the strangest of all the strange things that 
 happened to them was this — that once or twice, 
 before they met each other, their wanderings 
 brought them close together and then swept them 
 apart, as though life had determined that their 
 two souls should never know each other in action, 
 only meet when the action was done, to complete 
 each other's sagas from complemental memories; 
 Dampier to hear from Knox what happened to 
 the Cygnet's crew, Knox to hear from Dampier 
 how that crew came into being. 
 
CAPTAIN ROBERT KNOX 125 
 
 We have no record of any of the conversations 
 between them; but it is plain that sometimes 
 (when they got away from yarns and marine shop) 
 they quarrelled about the respective merits of the 
 Cocornut tree and the Plantain. Dampier, as a 
 West Indian sailor, extolled the plantain, with (ap- 
 parently) "all the art of Rhetoricke and Logicke." 
 Knox, as an East Indian sailor, got extremely hot 
 and prickly whenever a plantain tree was men- 
 tioned. "It is," he says, "no more propper to call 
 them trees than it is to Call a Cabbage a tree . . . 
 whare as the Cocornut tree Contineweth flourish- 
 ing aboute 100 yeares." Knox had neither Rhet- 
 oricke nor Logicke, only a passion "to doe the 
 Cocornut tree justice" and a kind of native wild- 
 ness in his spelling. 
 
 They were remarkable-looking men, as remark- 
 able men invariably are. Dampier, probably the 
 taller of th~ two, was of a black, forbidding 
 beauty, with a clear skin, showing scarlet under 
 tan. Knox, a stumpier figure, had the battered, 
 triumphant look of one who, after a long struggle 
 for salvation, has found his calling and election 
 sure. His weather-beaten, manful old face is 
 
126 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 happy with the power of being fervent in season 
 and out of season. If we may hazard an opinion, 
 Dampier, who was not reared in the school of 
 piety nor much touched by religious feeling, may 
 have found his companion's pious ejaculations 
 trying. 
 
 Knox was a captive among the natives in 
 Ceylon for the best twenty years of his life, and 
 his book is an account of his captivity, with some 
 description of Ceylon as it was. "Whether here- 
 after they are ever or never read by anyone it is 
 equially the same to me," he says. With a gush 
 of the improving talk which he lets fly on these 
 occasions, he tells us why it is the same. The 
 burden of his song is very much — "Man is dust. 
 Man, thou art a Worm. Man, a century hence 
 you will be equally the same, whether in six feet 
 or the moles of Adrianus." Probably he was not 
 a gloomy man when he first went to sea. But to 
 be ruined and kept in exile among an inferior race 
 throws a man in upon himself; and Knox for 
 many years led the life of the religious contempla- 
 tive without the contemplative's solaces and safe- 
 guards. It would not be fair to say that he came 
 
CAPTAIN ROBERT KNOX 127 
 
 home mad; but it is plain that he came home 
 with the crankiness of one who has lived an ab- 
 normal life during many years. His crankiness 
 showed itself in well-marked monkish ways, in a 
 hatred of women (which was, perhaps, partly fear), 
 and in an inability to mix on equal terms with his 
 fellow men. It is said that men who have been in 
 prison for a long term never really rejoin their 
 fellows. The spiritual experience to which the 
 outer world has no key, and that self-created 
 world which has served the soul for world for so 
 long a time, forbid a perfect reunion. Knox came 
 home from Ceylon with a world in his head, built 
 up out of constant Bible-reading. Whenever he 
 found that the men of the real world failed to 
 understand him (and his constant quarrels and 
 wrangles show that they failed pretty often) he 
 turned to this imaginary world for justification 
 and for solace. He sometimes moralizes very 
 prettily on death, the futility of life, the vanity of 
 human ambition, and the queerness of Fate's deal- 
 ings. Bishops South and Atterbury did the like 
 by us at even greater length. On the whole, Knox 
 is better reading than the bishops, for at root he 
 
128 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 is a simple, hardy being who has had to fight to 
 live, and for a companion in this world we prefer 
 one who has had to depend first and last on what 
 is manly in himself. For this reason Knox's 
 moralizings are never quite tedious. One feels the 
 man behind the writing. There is someone robust 
 and sturdy at the back of it all. Life proved Knox 
 to the bone before he earned his leave to write. 
 A man so proved is genuine whether he be en- 
 lightened or not. 
 
 Knox was not enlightened. Like other unen- 
 lightened men, he finds it difficult to express him- 
 self. His book gives a reader the impression of 
 an entirely sincere man entirely confused. It is as 
 though a jumble of piety, avarice, suspicion, deli- 
 cate noble feeling, utter callousness, and rule of 
 thumb were hung upon a character essentially up- 
 right and simple. Now and then he is even heroic. 
 One of his simple acts of piety strikes us as inde- 
 scribably heroic. His father and he, with other mem- 
 bers of the crew, went ashore on Ceylon and were 
 captured by the Sinhalese. He was allowed to go 
 back to the ship with a message. Before he set out 
 with this message he promised his father that he 
 
CAPTAIN ROBERT KNOX 129 
 
 would return. He could have escaped in the ship 
 quite easily. Those on board the ship begged him to 
 escape while he had the chance. He was a young 
 man, why should he go back to captivity; why 
 not get away in the ship now Providence had 
 helped him to her? Knox delivered his message 
 and went back to his father, and was a captive 
 for the next twenty years. 
 
 Many of the sea captains of that age were men 
 of fine mental attainments and great political 
 sagacity. Their books are wise with the rough 
 and noble wisdom of men who have faced big 
 issues of life and death for months together. 
 Knox's mind was too confused for wisdom. His 
 piety, though great, provided him with no way of 
 life. Newton, Cowper's friend, was changed by 
 sudden religious illumination from a slaver to a 
 preacher. Knox, on the other hand, having been 
 brought, as he would put it, out of the Land of 
 Egypt, became not a preacher but a slaver. He 
 got a little ship full of powder and trade guns, 
 and went away to Madagascar to buy slaves. On 
 this voyage the man's character seems to have 
 gone to pieces. It often happens that when the 
 
130 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 devil gets well he forgets to pay his doctor's bill. 
 Knox as a slaver is not a pretty figure. 
 
 His trade lay with a certain King Ribassa, who 
 "was one of the younger Sonns of the famous old 
 King Lightfoot, who with his owne hand would 
 shoot those of his wives that offended him, and 
 after bid some cut open her body to take out the 
 Bullett." This man, as was to be expected from 
 his breeding, "soone dranke up the Bottle of 
 Brandy I sent him, and dispatched away my 
 Messenger to mee againe with 6 Slaves (3 men 
 and 3 Women) for the present to me . . . which I 
 looked one as a presage of successful trade like 
 to innsew." Indeed, in a little while comes the 
 entry: "We shooke hands and rubbed noses . . . 
 and began to drinke Brandy which was the King's 
 Chiefe delight." During the drinking the King 
 much admired Knox's big dog, "as the Dog did 
 the King to see him so full of Colours as his beads 
 made him — for the King arose to stroake the Dog, 
 which put the Doge into a fome with rage that I 
 was faint to catch him about the Necke else he 
 would have tasted what the fine King was made 
 
CAPTAIN ROBERT KNOX 131 
 
 It is said that Courts give a tone to society. 
 The following entry shows the fine flavour of 
 Court life under Ribassa and his brother. "The 
 King and I walked hand in hand . . . with one 
 hand he led me and in the other hand held a 
 bottle of Brandy, saying unto me as we walked 
 'See how all obey my word,' and when the work 
 was done Prince Chemaniena came and licked his 
 father's knees in testimony of his obedience, and 
 helped us to drinke our bottle of Brandy." The 
 brandy was shed unavailingly. Ribassa was a 
 knave, and his brother's charity was interrupted 
 by pirates (whether Mission's or Avery's men does 
 not appear). Knox had done a little piracy in his 
 time, as "this in all appearance seemed a ready 
 way to raise my decayed fortune"; but being a 
 pirate and being robbed by one do not leave the 
 same flavour on the palate. He wisely set sail for 
 far away Bencoulen, where "about 20 men all 
 looking like Ghoasts" lived in Dampier's old fort 
 on rotten rice and punch. 
 
 Knox lived to be about eighty years old. After 
 twenty years' captivity, a long battering at sea, 
 yellow fever, scurvy, malaria, Hurry Canes, and 
 
132 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 other tumults, such an age does him credit. There 
 can be no doubt that Defoe (who knew him) got 
 many hints for "Robinson Crusoe" from him. It 
 is sad that the comparatively colourless Selkirk 
 should have robbed him of much credit properly 
 his. 
 
 Latterly Mr. James Ryan has edited and printed 
 his collected writings, together with an Auto- 
 biography never before published, from which 
 some of these facts are quoted. 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 133 
 
 CAPTAIN COXON 
 
 Eight generations ago, the island of Carmen, in 
 the Lagoon of Tides, in the Bay of Campeachy, 
 was one of the loneliest places in the world. It 
 was a wilderness, half swamp, half jungle, where 
 the red mangrove trees, and the stunted white thorn, 
 shut away a few Indians from the roaring of the 
 Lagoon tides at flood and ebb. 
 
 To the north of it there lay the Bay, to the south 
 the Lagoon; to the west and east a number of 
 sandy islands about which the tides raced. On 
 some of the islands, and on all the marshy main- 
 land, there grew the valuable logwood-trees, which 
 made the neighboring waters to smell sweetly 
 when their profuse yellow blossoms were in season. 
 To these islands, at certain times of the year, there 
 came a Spaniard from Campeachy, with a gang of 
 cowboys, to hunt the wild cattle for their hides 
 and tallow. This Spaniard, whose name was Juan 
 
134 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 de Acosta, was the only white man who ever came 
 there. How the cattle got there will never be known ; 
 but it is to be supposed that they had strayed from 
 the Spanish settlements, and multiplied, and at 
 last swum across to the islands at low water. 
 
 During the first ten years of the reign of Charles 
 II a buccaneer ship, cruising far to "leeward," dis- 
 covered the Lagoon, and explored its shores. Her 
 seamen found several belts of logwood near the 
 salt creeks, and took some stacks of the timber to 
 Port Royal, where they sold it at a good price. 
 After that, several ships (both merchant ships and 
 buccaneer cruisers) went thither yearly to load 
 logwood for Jamaica. The wood, which was then 
 much used for dyeing, sold for from £15 to £70 a 
 ton in the English markets. It could be had for 
 the cutting all about the Lagoon of Tides, while 
 the great plenty of fruit and cattle thereabouts 
 made the business inexpensive. Perhaps no people 
 since the beginning of time have shown so evident 
 a fondness for free quarters and large profits as 
 the buccaneers displayed at this period of their 
 history. The business of logwood cutting suited 
 them very well, for it did not necessarily interfere 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 135 
 
 with their rightful calling; while the title "log- 
 wood cutter" looked rather better on a Charge 
 Sheet. Very soon the creeks of the Lagoon were 
 peopled by little settlements of buccaneers, who 
 built themselves huts of palm leaves, and laboured 
 very hard at their new craft. Many of them stayed 
 there all the year round, cutting timber and stack- 
 ing it, and selling it to the merchant ships which 
 came thither from Port Royal. They lived together 
 in little gangs, with their common casks of rum 
 and sugar, and such wives as they could buy in 
 Jamaica, or steal from the local Indians. They 
 called the present Carmen Island Beef Island, and 
 made some arrangement with Juan de Acosta for 
 the slaughtering of the beeves for their food. Five 
 days in each week they cut logwood. On the sixth 
 they took their guns and went hunting. The sev- 
 enth they observed as the Sabbath. When a ship 
 came to the Lagoon all work was laid aside. The 
 cutters went aboard her, and passed the rest of the 
 day in drinking her commander's rum and firing off 
 her guns. If the captain were sparing of his rum 
 and powder, they gave him a cargo of bad wood. 
 Thus did they encourage a generous spirit and a vir- 
 
136 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 tuous liberality among their patrons. All this is by 
 way of prelude, or prologue, to the history we pro- 
 pose to present. 
 
 In the years 1669 and 1670 two Englishmen, 
 brothers, named John and William Coxon, began 
 business as logwood merchants, trading between 
 Port Royal and the Lagoon of Tides. With 
 William Coxon we have no concern; but we may 
 take it for granted that at this time both he and 
 his brother were fairly virtuous. Had they been 
 otherwise, they would hardly have gone trading 
 at a time when Henry Morgan was about to march 
 on Panama. We surmise that John Coxon was 
 then a young man, and (very possibly) new to the 
 Indies. He was one of the first to enter into 
 friendly relations with Juan de Acosta. We may be 
 sure that he was very prodigal in rum and powder, 
 and that the "Old Standards," the senior lumber- 
 men, always laid by for him the choicest wood. 
 He passed his days between the Lagoon and Port 
 Royal, making perhaps two trips in each year. 
 But in the summer of 1672 the Spaniards began to 
 look with disfavour upon the growing trade in the 
 Bay. Juan de Acosta was accused of encouraging 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 137 
 
 the English, and cast into prison at Campeachy. 
 One or two trading ketches, laden with supplies of 
 logwood, were snapped up by Spanish "Arma- 
 dillies," while the Spanish guarda-costas, from 
 San Juan de Ulloa, received orders to destroy any 
 logwood cutter's settlement which they could find. 
 John Coxon was troubled by these gentry, and 
 lost a part of his business. The Jamaican Govern- 
 ment could not allow him to make reprisals; nor 
 was it strong enough to protect a station so far 
 away as the Lagoon. The Governor gave order 
 that in future all logwood ships were to sail in 
 fleets not less than four ships strong. This ar- 
 rangement worked fairly well, until the final de- 
 struction of the logwood industry a few years later. 
 After 1672 the Bay of Campeachy attracted large 
 numbers of buccaneers, who found the "wind- 
 ward" seas too hot to hold them. The camps in 
 the Lagoon of Tides became rather more riotous 
 than they had been. The lumbermen began to 
 make forays along the coasts, when business was 
 slack, with the result that their virtuous members 
 became "debauched" into "wickedness." We 
 fear that one of the first to be "debauched" was 
 
138 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 John Coxon. By 1675 he had left the logwood 
 business. He had gathered together a crew of 
 "Privateers," and had sailed to the island of 
 Tortuga, where, for a sum down, a compliant 
 French Governor gave him a commission to make 
 "war" upon the Spaniards, with the "right" of 
 landing "to hunt" on Spanish territory. With 
 this precious "protection" in his pocket, John 
 Coxon cut himself temporarily adrift from virtu- 
 ous living. He hoisted the red flag, and set sail. 
 
 We do not know how he began his privateering; 
 but we are forced to conclude that he wasted little 
 time. By August 1676, he had been declared a 
 pirate; and the Jamaican Government had offered 
 mercy to all his men if they would deliver up their 
 captain. To their credit, they refused this offer; 
 but Coxon seems to have taken it as a hint to keep 
 clear of Port Royal, and of the windward waters 
 generally, till some other pirate had put him out 
 of mind for the time being. Probably he went to 
 some quiet place like Boca del Toro, off Nicaragua, 
 where he could live upon turtle and manatee, and 
 dice with his officers for tots of rum. He lay low, 
 in this way, for nearly nine months. 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 139 
 
 His next appearance was in June or July 1677. 
 He was then in command of about 100 Englishmen, 
 who had taken as their allies some three or four 
 French captains, with commissions from Tortuga. 
 He induced these Frenchmen to come with him to 
 attack Santa Martha, a strong little city not far 
 from Cartagena, which had proved too strong for 
 the buccaneers, though it had surrendered, twenty 
 years before, to an English squadron. Drake had 
 been driven from Santa Martha, so that there was 
 a certain amount of glory to be won there. It could 
 not be approached easily from the landward, and 
 the defences to the sea-approach were powerful. 
 Coxon was not dismayed by the difficulties it pre- 
 sented. He rowed in boldly in the early morning, 
 a little before the dawn, and carried the main fort 
 with a rush, while the garrison were sleeping. The 
 town was taken after a little fighting in the streets. 
 All the credit of the capture was due to Coxon, 
 who "did all," with his Englishmen, before the 
 Frenchmen ventured to come ashore. At least, 
 this was what he told Sir Thomas Lynch on his 
 return to Port Royal. The plunder of Santa 
 Martha was "nothing to babble about." It came 
 
140 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 to £20 a man, in "money and broken plate"; 
 though Coxon's share came to rather more. He 
 brought away with him the Governor and the 
 Bishop of the city, both of whom he held to ransom. 
 There must have been something charming in him, 
 for when he came to Port Royal to surrender to 
 the Government (and to pay his tenths and 
 fifteenths), the "good old man" (the Bishop) ex- 
 pressed himself "exceedingly satisfied" with his 
 treatment. He expressed himself thus to Sir 
 Thomas Lynch, who had come aboard to inquire 
 after him, and to make him more comfortable, and 
 to treat for his release. When he spoke, the entire 
 buccaneer crew was lying on the deck blind drunk, 
 and perhaps few bishops would have shown such 
 charitable broadmindedness in such a situation, and 
 at such a time. 
 
 The ransoms of the Bishop and the Governor 
 were duly paid, and Coxon found himself rich 
 enough to take advantage of an Act of Oblivion. 
 For nearly two years he lived honestly in Jamaica; 
 but (as he confessed) he then "grew weary" of 
 being honest (probably he ran short of money), so 
 that he put to sea again in command of a small 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 141 
 
 cruiser. In the summer of 1679 he was on the 
 coasts of Honduras, where he made a great haul 
 of indigo, tortoiseshell, cacao and cochineal. He 
 would have preferred pieces of eight, but the 
 homely proverb, "it is not always May," was 
 doubtless a consolation to him. He smuggled 
 much of his booty into Jamaica, where he flooded 
 all the markets, and ruined half the dry-goods 
 merchants. Then he set sail again (December 
 1679) to Negril Bay, at the west end of Jamaica, 
 to fill provisions for a raid along the Spanish 
 coasts. With him were Captains Sawkins and 
 Sharp, both of whom have their niches in the sinks 
 and cellars of Fame's temple. While they lay at 
 Negril, a small trading ketch put in and anchored 
 by them. She was going to leeward, to trade 
 among the Moskito Indians. Aboard her was 
 William Dampier, a merchant and logwood cutter, 
 who was trying to make a little money, before he 
 returned to England. The crew of the ketch 
 promptly volunteered to join the buccaneers; so 
 that Dampier "was, in a manner, forced" to join 
 them also. About Christmas 1679, Coxon made 
 sail, and steered away to the Main, with designs 
 
142 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 upon the town of Porto Bello, where Drake had 
 died, some eighty-three years before. Coxon took 
 200 men ashore, and marched for three days 
 through swamps and woods, till on the dawn of 
 the fourth he came to the city, and rushed it, as he 
 had rushed Santa Martha. Porto Bello had been 
 squeezed by the velvet glove of Henry Morgan 
 in 1668, but Coxon's men secured booty which 
 "whacked up" to £30 or £40 a man. This was 
 "good gains," and with this they were content. 
 They rejoined their ships and sailed to Golden 
 Island, a noted haunt of the buccaneers, in the 
 "Samballoes," or Mulatas Islands, where they 
 planned to cross the Isthmus of Darien, to plunder 
 Santa Maria, a gold-mine near the South Seas. 
 When they mustered at Golden Island, Coxon was 
 in a ship of 80 tons, manned by 97 men. 
 
 The story of that crossing of the Isthmus has 
 been told by many writers, four of whom were in 
 the ranks at the time. At the landing, Captain 
 John Coxon commanded the fifth and sixth com- 
 panies, both of which marched under red colours. 
 The colours were probably petticoats, which could 
 afterwards be traded to the natives. Coxon landed 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 143 
 
 in a bad mood, because he was not the chief com- 
 mander of the expedition; that post having fallen 
 to Richard Sawkins, a valorous imp of fame who 
 was more popular than he. Two days after land- 
 ing he had "some Words" with another company 
 commander, one Peter Harris, a Kentish gentle- 
 man. On this occasion he so far forgot himself as 
 
 to say D n, and to whip up a gun and to fire at 
 
 Peter Harris, who was by no means backward in 
 retaliating. However, another company captain 
 "brought him to be quiet," and so the voyage 
 continued. Santa Maria was duly captured, "but 
 when they got there, the cupboard was bare," for 
 the month's take of gold had just been sent to 
 Panama. This disappointment caused the bucca- 
 neers much annoyance. Some were for returning 
 to their ships at Golden Island. Others, more 
 venturous, were for attacking Panama. Coxon, 
 who had taken Santa Martha and Porto Bello, 
 was for returning to the ships, because, he argued, 
 the honour of any further exploit, in this galere, 
 will fall, not to me, but to Richard Sawkins. 
 However, Sawkins was not so covetous of honour 
 as Coxon thought. He caused the buccaneers to 
 
144 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 make Coxon their Admiral in his stead; which 
 was promptly done, "Coxon seeming to be well 
 satisfied." Then they embarked in "canoas and 
 periagoes" and rowed away west for Panama. 
 On St. George's Day (1680) the canoas of Sawkins 
 and Coxon fought and defeated a Spanish squadron 
 near the island of Perico. The battle was well- 
 contested and abominably bloody; and the laurels 
 were won by Richard Sawkins, who captured the 
 Spanish admiral. This was a sore blow to Coxon, 
 who now determined to return to his ship. Some 
 of Sawkins's men "stickled not to defame or 
 brand him with the note of cowardice," crying out 
 that he had been backward in the battle, and that 
 he wasn't half the Admiral he gave out. At this, 
 Coxon took leave of the fleet, with some seventy 
 hands. He took with him a ship and a periagua, 
 which, as Sharp, his shipmate, says, "will not 
 much Redound to his Honour." He recrossed the 
 Isthmus without trouble; rejoined his ship at 
 Golden Island; and again went cruising along the 
 Main. 
 
 Shortly after his return to the North Sea, he 
 decided to row far up the Gulf of Darien to get 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 145 
 
 gold from the Indians of those parts. He caused 
 his seamen to cut up a useful suit of sails and to 
 make a number of strong canvas bags (a bag 
 apiece) for the ready conveyance of the gold, 
 when it had been "purchased," or "conveyed." 
 But though he rowed with creditable perseverance, 
 "with an astonishing Degree of Enthusiasm," 
 under a sun that was hot and through an atmos- 
 phere that was nearly liquid, he got no gold 
 whatsoever. He could not even get any Indians 
 to sell in Port Royal; for the Indians were not 
 only "Shy," but "Treacherous"; and had a way 
 of potting your pirate, through a blowpipe, from 
 behind a tree. Plainly, such Indians were best 
 left alone by a force which, however civilized, 
 lacked machine-guns. They wished these Indians 
 might some day come into the hands of the 
 Spaniards. Then, they argued, they wouldn't be 
 so perky with their blowpipes, nor yet so suspicious 
 of those who were really their best friends. Thus 
 growling, they rowed out of the Gulf, and set sail 
 for Jamaica. On the way, an English frigate 
 chased them for a day or more, to give them a 
 relish of the sweets of liberty. 
 
146 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 We do not know what John Coxon did for the 
 next few months. He probably cruised along the 
 Main, taking what he could, and lying up, among 
 the Mulatas Islands, when weary of the sea. He 
 was at anchor at one of the Mulatas Islands in 
 May 1 68 1, when Dampier arrived there, after his 
 tramp across the Isthmus. He was then in very 
 good fettle, and did not want hands. With him 
 were several other buccaneers, French, Dutch, 
 and English, who were planning a "concerted 
 piece," or buccaneer orchestral effect, which 
 should startle the Spaniards extremely. However, 
 it came on to blow; the ships were separated; 
 the great scheme came to nothing; and Coxon 
 disappears again, under storm-staysails, for the 
 best part of a year. In June or July 1682, he 
 turned up at the Bahama Group, at the office of 
 the Governor of New Providence. He explained 
 that he wanted a commission to enable him "to 
 make war on the Spaniards of Cuba, St. Augus- 
 tine, and others"; which commission (to his great 
 surprise) was promptly granted. He recruited at 
 New Providence, by the simple method of invit- 
 ing defaulting debtors to come aboard. Then he 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 147 
 
 sailed to Jamaica, apparently to show Sir Thomas 
 Lynch what a beautiful commission he had gotten 
 from Bahama. Sir Thomas reproved the too 
 trusting official, and diverted honest Coxon's 
 fervour into another channel, by bidding him 
 go to Honduras to escort home some logwood 
 merchants. Coxon gave up his intention of making 
 war on the Spaniard, and sailed to Honduras to 
 do this, but, unfortunately, his men had little 
 heart for convoy duty. Being Government men, 
 at £1 a month and their victuals, was less 
 pleasant, and infinitely less glorious, than being 
 "on the account" for "whatever they could rob." 
 They plotted to heave John Coxon into the gulf, 
 and to run away with the ship, "and go privateer- 
 ing." So they came aft in a body to put their 
 bloody resolutions into effect. "But he valiantly 
 resisted, killed one or two with his own hand, 
 forced eleven overboard, and brought three to 
 Port Royal," where they were condemned and 
 hanged. This action so delighted Lynch that he 
 made Coxon his trusted henchman. Early in 1683, 
 Lynch sent him out again, this time to his old 
 ally, Captain Yanky-Dutch, with an offer of 
 
148 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 "£200 in Gold, besides Victuals," if, between them, 
 they could capture the French privateer La Trom- 
 peuse, commanded by their whilom friend, Captain 
 Peter Paine. 
 
 Virtue so fervent as that of John Coxon soon 
 burns itself out. The pure flame which forced 
 eleven mutineers into the sea in November 1682, 
 was but a smoke and a memory a year later. In 
 a letter dated November 1683, we find the curt 
 entry, "Coxon is again in rebellion"; while 
 another, of March, 1684, describes him as cruising 
 off the Terra Firme. Then a vagrant impulse to 
 virtue drove him back to Jamaica, where he found 
 a surety, and some honest employment, which 
 kept him ashore, but only for a little while. In 
 January 1686, he returned to Jamaica from another 
 piratical raid, the details of which are missing. 
 He claimed on this occasion to be weary of piracy; 
 but the authorities were more weary than he, so 
 he was laid by the heels, and sent for trial at St. 
 Jago de la Vega, "where there will be few sym- 
 pathizers among the jury." Those who are to be 
 tried in a place where there will be few sympa- 
 thizers among the jury have every incentive to 
 
CAPTAIN COXON 149 
 
 find sympathizers in the gaol. Coxon discovered 
 the practical virtues of this statement. He got 
 away from the prison before the jury was called; 
 and he was next heard of in Campeachy, cutting 
 logwood, and raiding the coasts. A ship was sent 
 after him; but this ship, though she captured 
 some of his men, failed to take him. In 1687 ne 
 was still cruising, and making a good deal of 
 money "by snapping up Indians to sell." In 1688, 
 for some reason, he again surrendered at Jamaica 
 to the Duke of Albemarle, who "sent him to 
 Lynch" in despair. 
 
 We do not know how he escaped hanging; but 
 the stars in their courses fought for him, and he 
 got off somehow. He had still ten years of life 
 before him; and these he passed quietly, as a 
 trader to the Moskito shore. At times the old 
 Adam rose up strongly in him; and then he would 
 gather the Indians together, and take them to the 
 Spanish settlements, "surprizing them in the 
 night," as he had once surprised Santa Martha. 
 "This Coxon encouraged the Indians to such 
 practices." He died among them, surrounded by 
 "wild Indian slaves and harlots," in the year 
 
150 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 1698. The Indians sorrowed for him "after their 
 manner"; and three old English pirates, who lived 
 in that strange place, helped dig his grave; and 
 then drank a cup of rum to his memory, and fired a 
 French volley to his wandering shadow. 
 
IN A CASTLE RUIN 151 
 
 IN A CASTLE RUIN 
 
 "Very long ago," said the old man, "the castle 
 was owned by a Scotchman named Carr, whose 
 daughter was the most beautiful woman in the 
 world. The name of this daughter was Clelia. 
 She married Andy MacDonnell, who came over at 
 the time of the Settlement; and after her marriage 
 she lived on at the castle with her husband, help- 
 ing Carr with the land. When Andy had been 
 married about half a year, he was called away to 
 Scotland on business; for he was a great man in 
 Scotland, and at that time there was to be marry- 
 ing between the royal families of Scotland and 
 England, and he was wanted to carry a banner at 
 the wedding. So he went to Scotland. And when 
 they heard he was coming back they made all 
 ready for a feast, and they had fires lighted, and 
 all the fiddlers and the pipers came; and the poets 
 came from the back hills making up new songs. 
 
152 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 "Now at last, the ship which brought Andy Mac- 
 Donnell came round the Point yonder, and Andy 
 got ashore, and then the ship rowed away. Then 
 Carr went up to him and asked why he was turn- 
 ing the ship away again. 'Isn't that the ship you 
 sailed in?' he said. 'Isn't that your own ship?' 
 'It is not/ says Andy. 'My own ship's in Scot- 
 land. The King took a fancy to her.' So then 
 Carr asked him what had become of all the men 
 who had gone with him abroad. And he answered 
 that the King had taken a fancy to them, and that 
 they were all with the King in Scotland, every 
 man jack of them down to Johnny O'Hara, the 
 piper's boy. So Carr wondered a little at that, 
 but said nothing; and they all went up to the castle 
 to the feast. 
 
 "But there was a queer thing that was noticed. 
 There was a little lad of the MacLearnon's running 
 about bare foot among the horses. He was a 
 little wee lad, the nicest little lad you would be 
 seeing. So when Andy MacDonnell was coming 
 to the castle from the shore, this little MacLearnon 
 looks at him; and he was near him; and he said 
 to his mother, 'His Honour's ears is pointed.' 
 
IN A CASTLE RUIN 153 
 
 They were pointed just the same as the ears on a 
 terrier. Wasn't it wonderful that no one had ever 
 noticed that before; that he should have pointed 
 ears, and no one see it? I'm thinking that was 
 a great wonder. 
 
 "Now after that, things settled down as before. 
 Andy MacDonnell lived on with Carr at the Castle, 
 and there was nothing much happened, except a 
 little child was born to Clelia; and that was a 
 queer thing, the child was. It was a little wee 
 man of a child, and he was born with teeth in him, 
 and the first thing his mother saw of him was that 
 his ears were pointed ; and the nurses said that that 
 was a great shame, and she so beautiful a mother. 
 There were other things, besides that, which 
 seemed queer. Andy MacDonnell was another 
 sort of a man than he had been. He used to go up 
 beyond, in the back hills, at the time of a new 
 moon. He got a bad name on to him for doing 
 that; but that was nothing to what they caught 
 him doing another time on the back hills, beyond 
 the wood there. There's a flat place there, where 
 they used to hold cock fights in the old times. It 
 was a religious place before that, where they did 
 
154 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 the old religion, and there's wraiths in it, besides 
 Themselves; and it was there they caught Andy. 
 It was one twilight they caught him. He was 
 standing on the grass, bowing to a great black 
 goat; and every time he bowed the goat spoke to 
 him in ancient Irish. Wasn't that a wonderful 
 thing now? There was a strong magic in that; 
 indeed there was. The shepherds didn't say any- 
 thing, for Andy was a great gentleman, but they 
 thought it a queer thing, for all that. And Carr 
 kept wondering all the time what had become of 
 the ship, and all the men left behind in Scotland. 
 
 "Now just about a year after Andy MacDonnell 
 had come home, he and Carr, and Clelia and the 
 child were sitting on the grass (on a carpet) look- 
 ing out over the bay, and it was one evening, get- 
 ting towards sunset; and as they were sitting 
 talking, they saw a small boat pulling in to the 
 bay, and Carr said, 'It's a tired man in that 
 boat,' for he was pulling like a crazy man. And 
 Clelia said, 'It'll be some poor man who has 
 maybe lost his ship.' And Andy MacDonnell 
 looked hard at the boat, and says he, Til be go- 
 ing in/ he said, 'the evening strikes cold,' he 
 
IN A CASTLE RUIN 155 
 
 says. So he turned, and went into the house. 
 There was no one ever saw him again. 
 
 "Now the boat ran ashore on the beach, and the 
 tired man got out of her, just by those rocks; and 
 he was tired indeed. He could scarce climb up 
 that bank of shingle. So Carr looks hard at him. 
 'Why,' he says, 'it's Johnny O'Hara, the piper's 
 boy, that was left behind in Scotland. What 
 news, Johnny!' he says. So Johnny comes near 
 up to him, and, 'Bad news,' he says. 'It's bad 
 news I'm bringing you this day. Your man is 
 killed,' he says. 'Andy MacDonnell is killed,' he 
 says. 'He was killed by the Scotch the day he 
 was to have come home. And I've been a prisoner 
 ever since.' So Carr got up on his feet, and he 
 calls out 'Andy'; but no one ever came. And 
 Clelia called out 'Andy' ; but no one ever answered. 
 And they went into the castle, but no Andy was 
 there, and then they knew that they'd been living 
 with a dragon-man, and that the real Andy had 
 been dead a year. When Clelia knew that she'd 
 been living with a dragon-man, she went up- 
 stairs to her room, and took out a kind of dirk 
 she had, with a sharp point on it, and she said a 
 
156 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 prayer first, and then stuck herself, so that she 
 fell dead. That was in one of the top chambers. 
 It's all fallen in now, this long time; but that was 
 where she killed herself. And when Carr knew 
 that there had been a dragon-man, he looked at 
 the child, and he knew it for a dragon-child, be- 
 cause its ears was pointed, so he took it up and 
 swung it against the tower wall, against these 
 corner stones, until he had it killed. Then he 
 went down the strand yonder, to that point of 
 rocks below my cabin, and there he drowned him- 
 self. That's why the point is called Carr's Point, 
 to this day. He was the last man to live in the 
 castle here. No one would ever live in it after 
 that, and the floors fell in, and the wood-work was 
 taken ; and now there's the ivy on it." 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 157 
 
 A DEAL OF CARDS 
 
 A company of seamen sat round a cabin table, 
 and pledged each other in a brew of punch. They 
 sat upon locker tops, on cushions of green velvet 
 gone rusty at the seams. The stern-ports were 
 open at their backs, for it was hot, and the room 
 between decks was foul with the reek of their 
 tobacco. You could tell that the ship was under 
 way by glancing astern at the dull track, like a 
 great snail's track, which she had drawn upon 
 the blue water as she dragged in the light wind. 
 She rolled slightly now and again, making a 
 creaking in her gear, and trembling the silver 
 lamp upon the cabin bulkhead. She was an old 
 ship, you could see by the rot upon the beams. 
 She was foul with a long passage, and the cabin 
 reeked of bilge. The blue arras on the cabin door 
 was wormy with age. The parquetting in her 
 deck was dirty with the marks of sea-boots. It 
 was heaped here and there with a sort of loot, 
 
158 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 such as clothes with lace upon them, and small 
 arms, cheap jewellery, buckles, and the like, for 
 the cruise had been lucky in a way. Two of the 
 seamen at the rum were dicing each other for 
 some uncut stones in a packet from the mines of 
 Esmeralda. 
 
 The drinkers were silent for the most part, puff- 
 ing out their tobacco like a gang of Spaniards, 
 only speaking to call a health, such as, "A fair 
 slant," or "Dollars," or to mark the throw of the 
 dice. They were a rough lot of fellows, some of 
 them branded in the cheeks. Most of them had 
 scars about their faces, and not one of them but 
 carried arms — pistols, or a dirk, or a seaman's 
 hanger — in a belt of coloured leather, plaited by 
 the wearer. One of the number had his head in a 
 rag, and swore thickly from time to time, as 
 though his wound were painful. He had been 
 hurt with a knife by a mate that morning, since 
 when he had been at the rum. His head was 
 singing like a kettle, what with the cut, the drink, 
 and the heat of the between decks. His name was 
 Joe; he was a runaway from a king's ship, once 
 a sailor trading out of Bristol. 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 159 
 
 Perhaps he was a little touched with fever, for 
 of a sudden he refilled his pannikin and drank 
 it dry. He rose unsteadily, clutching at the 
 table, and at the shirts of his companions. He 
 leaned his head through the window, flinging 
 his empty can far astern into the still, blue 
 sea. 
 
 "A rot on all salt water," he shouted. Then 
 he collapsed over a Newgate man, who had long 
 hoed tobacco in the Indies. Blood was trickling 
 from under his rag, for the wound was broken 
 out again. A little blood came from between his 
 lips: he seemed in a bad way. He had had some 
 sort of a stroke. 
 
 "Joe's got the shakes," said the Newgate man. 
 "Help us hold of him, Bill; lay him among them 
 prettiments." 
 
 He pointed to the loot on the deck. One of the 
 dicers took hold of Joe's boots, and dragged him 
 clear of the table. They dropped him roughly 
 among the clutter, with his head on some lace. 
 The Newgate man went through his pockets. 
 There were only two copper charms, some tobacco 
 plug, a steel for striking a light, and a ball of twine. 
 
160 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 "He diced it all," said Bill, "that time we stuck 
 him with the Greeks." 
 
 "I'll throw you for the plug," replied the New- 
 gate man. "He'll do now. He's only in some 
 sort of a fit." 
 
 Then they returned to the rum. 
 
 When Joe fell across the convict his eyes were 
 burning in a mist of blood, which seemed to shoot 
 and shake in front of him. His ears were drum- 
 ming, as though a bird were beating his head 
 with wings, and he felt that he was dropping from 
 a height into some deep, empty well. In a little 
 time the red mist cleared away; the drumming 
 hushed; the feeling of dropping changed. He 
 was in a little dark room, before a fire of embers, 
 which made a red glow upon the chimney bricks. 
 It was a lonely little room, darker than the night, 
 but for the coals, and so still it might have been 
 below the ground, below the graves even, beneath 
 the dead with their glazed eyes. So utterly silent 
 it was, he was glad to hear his heart beat. It 
 beat steadily, like a menace, like the continual 
 tapping of a drum. It was beating, not like a 
 heart, but like a clock. Like some clock in hell 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 161 
 
 ticking to the souls among the fire. It was ticking 
 like the march of time through the dim roads of 
 eternity. It was a thing horrible, inexorable, that 
 continual ticking. In the blackness, the utter 
 silence, that beating music became terrible. It 
 seemed to fill the room. It seemed to roar about 
 his body like a crowd of spirits about a corpse. 
 He tried to shake himself, but could not stir. He 
 tried to cry aloud, but could not speak. He tried 
 to arrest his heart, to stop that ticking. But it 
 beat on, rhythmical, steady, terrible. It seemed 
 that the darkness, the noise, the glowing coals, were 
 laughing at him. 
 
 And then, with a great burst, the ticking ceased 
 and the room became quite light — as light, he 
 thought, as a summer day at noon. Where the 
 fire had burned a woman squatted, a black woman, 
 black as coal, in a plain gown of scarlet. Her 
 eyes burned in an intense and baleful brightness. 
 Her lips were apart, showing white teeth in a grin. 
 In her hand she held cards. 
 
 He looked at these cards. Indeed, she held 
 them towards him for him to see, turning them 
 over that he might see both sides of them. They 
 
1 62 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 were three in number, and each of them had a 
 black back, as black as a piece of ebony. The 
 faces were coloured in intense colours, one of 
 gold, which seemed to burn, one of crimson, which 
 glowed, one of black, which seemed angry like 
 the smoke of hell. The colours of them seemed to 
 be the tokens of a beauty, a fierceness and a horror, 
 beyond any words that he could fashion. 
 
 The black woman grinned at him as she thrust 
 the cards together. She crouched down upon the 
 hearth, purring like a cat, cackling, whining. Her 
 eyes gleamed as she began to shuffle the cards, 
 tossing them in the air, passing, re-passing, whirl- 
 ing them about, till they seemed like three arrows 
 of red and gold and black fire. At last she flung 
 them all into the air, caught them in one hand as 
 they fell, bowed very low, her lips grinning, her 
 eyes intensely bright, and held them out, face 
 downwards, for him to make his choice. All that 
 he could see were three black cards, spread out 
 before him like the sticks of a fan. Yet he knew 
 that upon his choice of a card depended his life, 
 his life hereafter, the life of his soul between the 
 lives. 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 163 
 
 "No," he tried to gasp. "No, I will not 
 choose." 
 
 The little black hag laughed. She whirled the 
 cards into the air, and watched them fly away, 
 like birds, crying strange words as they flew. The 
 room burst into a million fragments, flinging Joe 
 into the night. The light grew very violent of a 
 sudden, and there he was, feeling mortal sick, lying 
 in the sunlight, in the cabin, with an Indian splash- 
 ing water on him. 
 
 They made the three Points the next morning, 
 and were at anchor in the bay beyond them before 
 noon. It was broiling hot. The sea lay like a 
 mass of hot grease. The dark green feathers on 
 the palms seemed drooped for the lack of freshness. 
 One heard nothing save the roaring of the surf, 
 the birds screaming in the wood, and the perpetual 
 groaning of the ship. She rolled heavily, banging 
 her gear in a continual clatter. Her blocks were 
 whining like dogs. The noise of her was like a 
 hammer on the brain. 
 
 Joe volunteered for the boat, and went ashore 
 with the water-casks the moment the anchor held. 
 He had been fuddled ever since the day before, 
 
164 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 and the ship had such terrors for him, drunk as 
 he was, there was no staying aboard her. On the 
 beach he met Willy Crackers, an old English 
 sailor, who lived in the huts above the surf line. 
 He was a bronzed, ear-ringed man, was Willy, 
 with a bright eye to him and a tongue of silver. 
 He had been in that land many years now, and 
 owned several slaves. He used to get gold dust 
 and ivory from the inland, to trade with the ships 
 which touched the coast. He was a friend to the 
 pirates, and they used to water there before drop- 
 ping down to leeward. He returned to England 
 in time a rich man, and died in Salcombe the 
 keeper of a sailor's tavern. He greeted Joe kindly, 
 and the two stayed together all day, in the blazing 
 heat, watching the natives fill the water-casks and 
 stow them in the jolly boat. But at sunset, when 
 the jolly boat went off, when the beach struck 
 cold, and the mists rose whitely, Willy bade Joe 
 come up to the hut for a bite of supper and a 
 smoke. 
 
 The house was a ramshackle affair, built in one 
 storey alongside the huts. It swung some three 
 hammocks, all draped with netting. It had a 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 165 
 
 table much eaten by the ants, a bench or two, 
 some casks of ship's provisions (which might have 
 sailed with Hawkins), a pipe of rum, a few teeth, 
 most of them a little yellow, and some weapons, 
 beautifully bright, in a trophy rack upon the wall. 
 Towards midnight, Willy got up to fetch his mate 
 a curio. A 
 
 "Some heathen idol," he said, "them blacks give 
 it to me for a whittle." 
 
 It had been placed behind some barrels, and what 
 with the rum, what with a long spell of laziness, 
 Willy was unable to shift them. Joe came to his 
 assistance, canted the casks, and rolled them away 
 upon their chines. 
 
 "Thankee, mate," said Willy, "I'm not so lim- 
 ber as I was. I been ashore too long. Me joints 
 is gone in the slings." He paused awhile. Then 
 he piped out, "Mate, matey, supposin' you was to 
 stop ashore with me. There ain't no call for you 
 to go a-cruising. I'd be proud to have you. Hell," 
 he continued, "I can't rastle them blacks. I want 
 some one spryer'n myself. Some one as'll flay their 
 hides, by Davy." 
 
 There was a pause for a moment, while Joe's 
 
166 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 heart leaped with pleasure. He had been taken 
 with so great a horror of the ship, since the vision 
 of the hag, that his muddled brain had planned 
 suicide, or a life in the scrub among the blacks, 
 rather than another day between decks. The 
 words of Willy Crackers lit up his brain. They 
 showed him the ease, the grandeur of the life of 
 nigger driver. The joyful nights over the jorum; 
 the English ship; the thronged quays of Bristol. 
 He took the offer with a curse. 
 
 "Billy," he said, "it'll be meat and drink to 
 me. I ain't been feeling good these last days. 
 Going to sea ain't right for me. It's the air or 
 something. A spell ashore is what I want: just 
 what I want — that, and sleep. I'll get my chest 
 ashore when the cutter comes in for the casks to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Why, right then," said his friend, "you look 
 pretty green in the gills with it. And now let's 
 liquor on it." 
 
 He poured out two more noggins from the pan, 
 and the two drank to each other. 
 
 "There's a song I mind me," said Joe, "I'll sing 
 it to ye." 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 167 
 
 He began to sing in a voice a little muffled with 
 the rum. He dwelt upon each word, singing it 
 with gusto. 
 
 O, the bold Lollonais, so gall-ant and free, 
 
 He sailed from Saint James in the Jane chasse-marree, 
 
 Oh, there's rum and there's wine 
 
 And tobacco so fine 
 For all the bold sailors what sails on the sea. 
 
 He sang the refrain twice over, hammering on 
 the table with his can. He was reaching out for 
 another tot of rum when he fell forward gasping. 
 His pannikin fell from the table and rolled away 
 among the gear. Willy blinked at him for a 
 moment, beating out the chorus with his pipe. 
 He thought his mate was merely overcome with 
 the spirit. He made a childish attempt to reach 
 the jorum for another taste, and fell asleep in his 
 chair, his pipe's ash spilling sparks upon the table. 
 The lamp flared up a moment to show the couple 
 to the night, and then guttered out, leaving them 
 to their quiet. 
 
 It seemed to Joe that he was bound upon the 
 rim of a whirlpool of flame. He was being spun 
 about a vortex, helpless as a straw; gradually the 
 
1 68 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 spinning became swifter, as though he had been 
 whirled nearer to the centre. Then tiny hands 
 seemed to pluck him down into a pit of utter 
 silence, a light broke upon him, and there, in 
 front of him, was the malevolent woman of the 
 cards. She grinned at him with her brilliant teeth, 
 and held out two cards — one black, the other 
 crimson. Soon she began to shuffle with them, 
 tossing them from one hand to the other, throw- 
 ing them at her victim, then snatching them away. 
 At last she caught them, whirled them round her, 
 bowed very low, and held them forward, face 
 downwards, watching him intently with a malig- 
 nant smile. 
 
 "No," he gasped : "No, I will not choose." 
 Instantly she screamed in her high, mocking 
 laugh. She tossed the cards from her, and they 
 whirled away, crying like gulls. The whirlpool 
 spun him upward, flinging him upon a sea alive 
 with sharks. He leaped from them, screaming, 
 running violently upon the air; but they rose 
 after him, flapping their fins, gnashing their teeth. 
 They were barking at him like dogs, snapping at 
 his very feet. Then he fell, fell, fell, till he was as 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 169 
 
 a drop of water gaped at by all the damned among 
 the fire. 
 
 He awoke upon the hut floor, in plain day, the 
 blood beating on his brain, the surf roaring. A 
 boat was pulling in from the ship, the oars keep- 
 ing time to an old hauling tune. Willy Crackers 
 was snoring in his chair, and after trying to rouse 
 him, Joe helped himself to about a pint of rum 
 and staggered out upon the beach. The terror of 
 his sleep was strong upon him. The palm leaves, 
 dangling green and heavy, were a horror to him. 
 The surf terrified him. In every creeper of the 
 jungle he saw the eyes of the devil with the cards. 
 Not for a sack of minted gold would he have 
 stayed in that place. So when the boat made the 
 landing he tumbled into her, and fell asleep, in a 
 drunkard's doze, among the breakers in the stern 
 sheets. He did not rouse from where he lay until 
 rough hands beat him with stretchers, and fierce 
 voices bade him out of that. For the boat was 
 alongside the ship, dragging to a tackle, and the 
 ship was under a jib and topsail, forging slowly for- 
 ward, while the hands were singing at the bows, 
 heaving in the cable. They were under way. 
 
170 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 He scrambled aboard, and went below to his 
 hammock. He swung there all that day, hot with 
 a violent fever, and now and again an Indian 
 brought him drink. Just forward of where he lay, 
 two fiddlers made music between the guns, and 
 men sang and danced there till they were too drunk 
 to stir. The ship picked up her consort that after- 
 noon. They cruised together till the sunset, when 
 they made the Gabone River. They anchored at 
 about ten that night in the anchorage by Parrot 
 Island. 
 
 In the morning of the second day, Joe sat be- 
 tween two cannon on a lashed sea chest, which 
 had his initials, J. P., burnt deeply upon the lid. 
 He had a canvas sack in front of him, for he was 
 busy packing, and he had been dicing for the loot 
 due to him ever since his morning draught. He had 
 made up his mind to quit that way of life and get 
 ashore to the island. There were folk living on 
 the island — a sort of traders. He could stay with 
 them, he thought, till a home-bound ship hap- 
 pened into the river. He had money enough. 
 And, once in England, there was always work for 
 a live one. Ever since he had had these visions, a 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 171 
 
 terror of the sea and the ships had made his life a 
 burden. Drink, even, had no comforts for him; 
 for, from the hatchways, from the dark places 
 behind the guns, from the hold where the casks 
 lay, he would see peering that black hag of the 
 tarot. So he had gathered his gear together, and 
 was going ashore in ten minutes' time, to live 
 among the traders till a ship came. He would 
 live cleanly, too, without rum, except in the way 
 of friendship. His head wasn't what it was. It 
 was no use going on drinking when one saw 
 things. 
 
 "You give me that knife, Jake Dawes," he said, 
 "and I'll throw you in a quart of hard." 
 
 Jake tossed the knife to him, a long Spanish 
 dirk, with a handle of twisted silver, like those you 
 buy in Panama. There was a noise on deck, a con- 
 fused babble of cries and clanking. 
 
 "What in hell are they at, Jake?" he asked. 
 
 A man in a red shirt, a leather apron and sea 
 boots made of cow-hide came past them with a 
 bucketful of wads. 
 
 "There's a fat merchant on the coast," he 
 said, "we're going out for her. They're getting 
 
172 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 under way. The Fortune s men are giving us a 
 tow." 
 
 "I'm off ashore," said Joe. "To blazes with 
 this dicing. Give us a lift there, Billy, with these 
 duds." 
 
 "Oh, that be twisted, Joe," said Jake, as he 
 knocked off the neck of a bottle. "Stop and drink 
 fair." 
 
 The mulatto grinned at him and handed him the 
 spirits ; Joe took a large swig. 
 
 "That's better, Jake," he said; "have you got a 
 quid upon you?" 
 
 They spent the next twenty minutes drinking in 
 turn, and chewing meditatively upon the quid. 
 The ship was under way, with her topsails set, 
 dropping slowly down the stream. The Fortune's 
 men, very drunk, had cast the ropes off and gone 
 splashing back to moorings. Through an open gun- 
 port Joe caught a glimpse of moving palms. 
 
 "Hell!" he cried, "I'm off ashore. We're mov- 
 ing, Jakey." 
 
 "The boats are gone by this," said the mulatto* 
 "it's unchancy swimming. You'd better stay for 
 the play." 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 173 
 
 But Joe sprang to his feet, "I'll swim it," he 
 cried, as he made a rush for the hatchway. As he 
 passed the midship cannon, his foot caught in a 
 ring bolt. He stumbled on a pace, flung up his 
 hands and crashed heavily over the ranged port 
 cable. He had been "overtaken," as the saying is. 
 A man in a fine red coat, with laced cuffs, and 
 buttons of gold pieces, came along the gun deck 
 swearing. He was followed by another man bran- 
 dishing a pistol. 
 
 "Get to your guns there, you swine!" the two 
 were shouting. "Cast loose them lower deck 
 cannon ! What corpse is this ? What in hell corpse 
 is this? Hey there, you, get the guns run out. 
 We're going out for some yellow boys !" 
 
 They kicked at Joe's body in turn and passed 
 over him to the groups of drunkards further for- 
 ward. Away aft a gang of wits had cast loose a 
 gun and were busy firing at the sky. On deck a 
 seaman, bawling an obscene song, was running 
 up the banner of the trade — a black banner, stolen 
 from an undertaker, with two rude crimson figures 
 roughly sewn upon its face. The chase was under 
 all plain sail, some two miles distant, her decks 
 
174 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 full of men busy trimming her yards. The sailing 
 master, watching her through a telescope from the 
 fo'c's'le, declared her to be a French Guineaman, 
 swimming deep. Another swore that she was out 
 of Lisbon, a sugar ship bound home. The men 
 hauled the spritsail yard alongships, crying out 
 that they would have sweet punch for supper. The 
 wind freshened. The men aloft loosed the top- 
 gallant sails. The helmsman stood smoking at the 
 tiller. On deck was nothing but a babble of 
 cries, drowned every two or three minutes by the 
 cannon. 
 
 But Joe lay where he had fallen, heedless of 
 everything. When some men came to man the 
 cannon at his side, they picked him up by the heels 
 and lifted him below to the sail-locker. They flung 
 him down upon a mainsail, and went back to their 
 firing. They were all drunk and careless. And 
 though, when the chase ran her guns out and 
 hung out the King's colours, they made some sort 
 of a battle of it, they were too drunk to do much. 
 In a very few minutes their decks were being 
 swept, their guns knocked over, their ports beaten 
 from the side, and their men driven from their 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 175 
 
 posts. The powder barrels exploded almost at 
 each discharge, for the powder was in tubs about 
 the deck, littered anyhow, and she was on fire in 
 twenty places long before the crew surrendered. 
 
 It seemed to Joe that he was adrift in a torrent, 
 flying down stream. It was all black about him, a 
 blackness full of roaring; and water whirled in his 
 mouth and nostrils till he choked. The roaring 
 grew louder. He felt himself pitched downwards. 
 A vast weight of water beat upon him, and then 
 he was suddenly flung ashore in a cave, with 
 pebbles at his feet and a great dread shaking him. 
 It was dark enough, but not positively black, in 
 the cave, for the low roof glittered with a metal, 
 and the water was bright, in spangles, as it 
 hurried past into the darkness. As he arose to his 
 feet it grew lighter, and there was the little black 
 hag again, in her red dress, with the bitter smile 
 upon her lips. She burst into a harsh chattering 
 laugh, like the rapid whirring of a cog-wheel. She 
 spun around him once or twice, gibbering with her 
 lips. Then she stooped before him, plucked out a 
 card, and thrust it into his hand with a mocking 
 bow. He stared at it stupidly for a moment before 
 
176 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 he turned it over. It was a black card, black on 
 both sides, of a black like the black of swirling 
 smoke, and its blackness made him shudder. The 
 hag watched his face a moment, and broke into a 
 violent and mirthless merriment. Her face wrin- 
 kled in her laugh, and sharpened till she looked 
 like a vulture rocking with some uncanny joy. 
 Then she screamed in a long, shrill, wailing scream 
 like the scream of night birds flying in a company. 
 She tossed her hands upward, and it seemed to 
 her victim that the wicked figure vanished through 
 his eyes, and as though the skinny fingers clutched 
 at his heart from inside him. In another second 
 the cave had torn apart and flung him upward. He 
 gave a gasp and a cry and awoke in the darkness 
 of the sail-locker, in a silence only broken by 
 scurrying rats and the dull gurgling of the 
 bilge. 
 
 He picked himself up and went on deck, his 
 head throbbing like a drum. He saw that the deck 
 had been ripped with shot. Many bodies were 
 lying on the planks. There was a smell of blood, 
 of burning, of burnt linen, and powder smoke. 
 The ship was unusually still, for the lower deck 
 
A DEAL OF CARDS 177 
 
 was empty save for the killed. He pushed up the 
 hatchway in terror. 
 
 As he gained the upper deck he saw at once what 
 had happened, for a big blue banner was flapping 
 at the peak, and a few marines in red coats were 
 watching the last gang of his comrades into a jolly 
 boat alongside. They had been stripped already. 
 Their silks and laces were dangling from their 
 captors' pockets. A little lieutenant in a long red 
 coat was superintending the embarkation, tapping 
 his breeches with a cane to mark the number of 
 them. Joe drew his hanger from its sheath. 
 
 "Taken!" he screamed, "taken!" and he rushed 
 at the lieutenant to cut him down. 
 
 A burly mariner in an apron bounded upon him 
 from behind. Joe felt a blow upon the sconce, and 
 collapsed upon the deck like a sack of flour. 
 
 "One hundred and three," counted the lieuten- 
 ant; "that was a good crack you gave him. Shove 
 him down among the others." 
 
 Late in the afternoon Joe woke from his fever. 
 He was lying chained hand and foot in a dark 
 prison lit only by a battle lamp. One side of him 
 was pressed against the bulkhead of the prison; 
 
178 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 the other was riveted to a wounded man, a man in 
 high fever, who babbled in his pain. He could dis- 
 tinguish other bodies lying near him. 
 
 "Where am I?" he cried. 
 
 "Hold your jaw!" said a hoarse voice, through 
 the grating. "Hold your jaw. You're aboard the 
 frigate Swallow, if you want to know. And you'll 
 be hanged for a damned rogue to-morrow dawn." 
 
THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN 179 
 
 THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN 
 
 Up away north, in the old days, in Chester, there 
 was a man who never throve. Nothing he put his 
 hand to ever prospered, and as his state worsened, 
 his friends fell away, and he grew desperate. So 
 one night when he was alone in his room, thinking 
 of the rent due in two or three days and the money 
 he couldn't scrape together, he cried out, "I wish I 
 could sell my soul to the devil like that man the 
 old books tell about." 
 
 Now just as he spoke the clock struck twelve, 
 and, while it chimed, a sparkle began to burn 
 about the room, and the air, all at once, began to 
 smell of brimstone, and a voice said : 
 
 "Will these terms suit you?" 
 
 He then saw that some one had just placed a 
 parchment there. He picked it up and read it 
 through; and being in despair, and not knowing 
 what he was doing, he answered, "Yes," and 
 looked round for a pen. 
 
180 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 "Take and sign," said the voice again, "but first 
 consider what it is you do; do nothing rashly. 
 Consider." 
 
 So he thought awhile; then "Yes" he said, "I'll 
 sign," and with that he groped for the pen. 
 
 "Blood from your left thumb and sign," said the 
 voice. 
 
 So he pricked his left thumb and signed. 
 
 "Here is your earnest money," said the voice, 
 "nine and twenty silver pennies. This day twenty 
 years hence I shall see you again." 
 
 Now early next morning our friend came to him- 
 self and felt like one of the drowned. "What a 
 dream I've had," he said. Then he woke up and 
 saw the nine and twenty silver pennies and smelt a 
 faint smell of brimstone. 
 
 So he sat in his chair there, and remembered 
 that he had sold his soul to the devil for twenty 
 years of heart's-desire ; and whatever fears he may 
 have had as to what might come at the end of 
 those twenty years, he found comfort in the thought 
 that, after all, twenty years is a good stretch of 
 time, and that throughout them he could eat, 
 drink, merrymake, roll in gold, dress in silk, and 
 
THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN 181 
 
 be care-free, heart at ease and jib-sheet to wind- 
 ward. 
 
 So for nineteen years and nine months he lived 
 in great state, having his heart's desire in all 
 things; but, when his twenty years were nearly 
 run through, there was no wretcheder man in all 
 the world than that poor fellow. So he threw up 
 his house, his position, riches, everything, and 
 away he went to the port of Liverpool, where he 
 signed on as A.B., aboard a Black Ball packet, a 
 tea clipper, bound to the China seas. 
 
 They made a fine passage out, and when our 
 friend had only three days more, they were in the 
 Indian Ocean lying lazy, becalmed. 
 
 Now it was his wheel that forenoon, and it being 
 dead calm, all he had to do was just to think of 
 things ; the ship of course having no way on her. 
 
 So he stood there, hanging on to the spokes, 
 groaning and weeping till, just twenty minutes or 
 so before eight bells were made, up came the Cap- 
 tain for a turn on deck. 
 
 He went aft, of course, took a squint aloft, and 
 saw our friend crying at the wheel. "Hello, my 
 man," he says, "why, what's all this? Ain't you 
 
i8 2 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 well ? You'd best lay aft for a dose o' salts at four 
 bells to-night." 
 
 "No, cap'n," said the man, "there's no salts'll 
 ever cure my sickness." 
 
 "Why, what's all this?" says the old man. "You 
 must be sick if it's as bad as all that. But come 
 now; your cheek is all sunk, and you look as if you 
 ain't slept well. What is it ails you, anyway? 
 Have you anything on your mind?" 
 
 "Captain," he answers very solemn, "I have sold 
 my soul to the devil." 
 
 "Oh," said the old man, "why, that's bad. That's 
 powerful bad. I never thought them sort of things 
 ever happened outside a book." 
 
 "But," said our friend, "that's not the worst of 
 it, Captain. At this time three days hence the devil 
 will fetch me home." 
 
 "Good Lord!" groaned the old man. "Here's 
 a nice hurrah's nest to happen aboard my ship. But 
 come now," he went on, "did the devil give you no 
 chance — no saving-clause like? Just think quietly 
 for a moment." 
 
 "Yes, Captain," said our friend, "just when I 
 made the deal, there came a whisper in my ear. 
 
THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN 183 
 
 And," he said, speaking very quietly, so as not to 
 let the mate hear, "if I can give the devil three 
 jobs to do which he cannot do, why, then, Captain," 
 he says, "I'm saved, and that deed of mine is can- 
 celled." 
 
 Well, at this the old man grinned and said, 
 "You just leave things to me, my son. I'll fix the 
 devil for you. Aft there, one o' you, and relieve 
 the wheel. Now you run forrard, and have a good 
 watch below, and be quite easy in your mind, for 
 I'll deal with the devil for you. You rest and be 
 easy." 
 
 And so that day goes by, and the next, and the 
 one after that, and the one after that was the day 
 the Devil was due. 
 
 Soon as eight bells was made in the morning 
 watch, the old man called all hands aft. 
 
 "Men," he said, "I've got an all-hands job for 
 you this forenoon." 
 
 "Mr. Mate," he cried, "get all hands on to the 
 main-tops'l halliards and bowse the sail stiff up and 
 down." 
 
 So they passed along the halliards, and took the 
 turns off, and old John Chantyman piped up — 
 
184 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 There's a Black Ball clipper 
 Comin' down the river. 
 
 And away the yard went to the mast-head till the 
 bunt-robands jammed in the sheave. 
 
 "Very well that," said the old man. "Now get 
 my dinghy off o' the half-deck and let her drag 
 alongside." 
 
 So they did that, too. 
 
 "Very well that," said the old man. "Now 
 forrard with you, to the chain-locker, and rouse out 
 every inch of chain you find there." 
 
 So forrard they went, and the chain was lighted 
 up and flaked along the deck all clear for run- 
 ning. 
 
 "Now, Chips," says the old man to the car- 
 penter, "just bend the spare anchor to the end of 
 that chain, and clear away the fo'c's'le rails ready 
 for when we let go." 
 
 So they did this, too. 
 
 "Now," said the old man, "get them tubs of 
 slush from the galley. Pass that slush along there, 
 doctor. Very well that. Now turn to, all hands, 
 and slush away every link in that chain a good inch 
 thick in grease." 
 
THE ©EVIL AND THE OLD MAN 185 
 
 So they did that, too, and wondered what the old 
 man meant. 
 
 "Very well that," cries the old man. "Now 
 get below all hands ! Chips, on to the fo'c's'le head 
 with you and stand by! I'll keep the deck, Mr. 
 Mate ! Very well that." 
 
 So all hands tumbled down below; Chips took 
 a fill o' baccy to leeward of the capstan, and the 
 old man walked the weather-poop looking for a 
 sign of hell-fire. 
 
 It was still dead calm — but presently, towards 
 six bells, he raised a black cloud away to leeward, 
 and saw the glimmer of the lightning in it ; only the 
 flashes were too red, and came too quick. 
 
 "Now," says he to himself, "stand by." 
 
 Very soon that black cloud worked up to wind- 
 ward, right alongside, and there came a red flash, 
 and a strong sulphurous smell, and then a loud peal 
 of thunder as the devil steps aboard. 
 
 "Mornin', cap'n," says he. 
 
 "Mornin', Mr. Devil," says the old man, "and 
 what in blazes do you want aboard my ship ?" 
 
 "Why, Captain," said the devil, "I've come for 
 the soul of one of your hands as per signed agree- 
 
186 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 ment: and, as my time's pretty full up in these 
 wicked days, I hope you won't keep me waiting for 
 him longer than need be." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Devil," says the old man, "the man 
 you come for is down below, sleeping, just at 
 this moment. It's a fair pity to call him up 
 till it's right time. So supposin' I set you them 
 three tasks. How would that be? Have you any 
 objections?" 
 
 "Why, no," said the devil, "fire away as soon as 
 you like." 
 
 "Mr. Devil," said the old man, "you see that 
 main-tops'l yard? Suppose you lay out on that 
 main-tops'l yard and take in three reefs single- 
 handed." 
 
 "Ay, ay, sir," the devil said, and he ran up the 
 ratlines, into the top, up the topmast rigging and 
 along the yard. 
 
 Well, when he found the sail stiff up and down, 
 he hailed the deck: 
 
 "Below there! On deck there! Lower away ya 
 halliards!" 
 
 "I will not," said the old man, "nary a lower." 
 
 "Come up your sheets, then," cries the devil. 
 
THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN 187 
 
 "This main-topsail's stiff up-and-down. How'm I 
 to take in three reefs when the sail's stiff up-and- 
 down?" 
 
 "Why," said the old man, "you cant do it. 
 Come out o' that! Down from aloft, you hoof- 
 footed son. That's one to me." 
 
 "Yes," says the devil, when he got on deck again, 
 "I don't deny it, cap'n. That's one to you." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Devil," said the old man, going to- 
 wards the rail, "suppose you was to step into that 
 little boat alongside there. Will you please?" 
 
 "Ay, ay, sir," he said, and he slid down the 
 forrard fall, got into the stern sheets, and sat 
 down. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Devil," said the skipper, taking a 
 little salt spoon from his vest pocket, "supposin' 
 you bail all the water on that side the boat on to 
 this side the boat, using this spoon as your dipper." 
 
 Well! — the devil just looked at him. 
 
 "Say!" he said at length, "which of the New 
 England States d'ye hail from anyway?" 
 
 "Not Jersey, anyway," said the old man. "That's 
 two up, alright; ain't it, sonny?" 
 
 "Yes," growls the devil, as he climbs aboard. 
 
188 A MAINSAIL HAUL 
 
 "That's two up. Two to you and one to play. 
 Now, what's your next contraption?" 
 
 "Mr. Devil," said the old man, looking very 
 innocent, "you see, I've ranged my chain ready 
 for letting go anchor. Now Chips is forrard there, 
 and when I sing out, he'll let the anchor go. Sup- 
 posin' you stopper the chain with them big hands 
 o' yourn and keep it from running out clear. Will 
 you, please ?" 
 
 So the devil takes off his coat and rubs his hands 
 together, and gets away forrard by the bitts, and 
 stands by. 
 
 "All ready, cap'n," he says. 
 
 "All ready, Chips?" asked the old man. 
 
 "All ready, sir," replies Chips. 
 
 "Then, stand by — Let go the anchor," and clink, 
 clink, old Chips knocks out the pin, and away goes 
 the spare anchor and greased chain into a five mile 
 deep of God's sea. As I said, they were in the In- 
 dian Ocean. 
 
 Well — there was the devil, making a grab here 
 and a grab there, and the slushy chain just slipping 
 through his claws, and at whiles a bight of chain 
 would spring clear and rap him in the eye. 
 
THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN 189 
 
 So at last the cable was nearly clean gone, and 
 the devil ran to the last big link (which was seized 
 to the heel of the foremast), and he put both his 
 arms through it, and hung on to it like grim death. 
 
 But the chain gave such a Yank when it came- 
 to, that the big link carried away, and oh, roll and 
 go, out it went through the hawsehole, in a shower 
 of bright sparks, carrying the devil with it. There 
 is no devil now. The devil's dead. 
 
 As for the old man, he looked over the bows 
 watching the bubbles burst, but the devil never rose. 
 Then he went to the fo'c's'le scuttle and banged 
 thereon with a hand-spike. 
 
 "Rouse out, there, the Port Watch!" he called, 
 "an* get my dinghy inboard." 
 
NOTE 
 
 Nearly all these stories and one of the histori- 
 cal papers first appeared in the Manchester 
 Guardian; one tale is reprinted from the Na- 
 tion and one from the Pall Mall Magazine. 
 The four remaining historical papers are re- 
 printed from the Gentleman s Magazine. 
 
 I thank the Editors and Proprietors of all 
 these periodicals for permission to include the 
 papers in this volume. 
 
THE following pages contain advertisements of 
 books by the same author, and other poetry 
 
NEW BOOKS BY JOHN MASEFIELD 
 
 The Daffodil Fields 
 
 Cloth, i2mo, $1.25 net; postpaid, $1.36 
 
 "Neither in the design nor in the telling did, or could, 
 'Enoch Arden' come near the artistic truth of 'The Daffodil 
 Fields'." — Sir Quiller-Couch, Cambridge University. 
 
 Salt Water Ballads 
 
 Cloth, i2mo. Preparing 
 
 No living poet has caught the wild beauty of the sea, 
 and imDrisoned it in such haunting verse. John Masefield 
 has done in these poems what many consider his finest work. 
 
 The Tragedy of Pompey 
 
 Cloth, i2mo. Preparing 
 
 A play such as only the author of "Nan" could have 
 written. Tense in situation and impressive in its poetry 
 it conveys Masefield's genius in the handling of the dramatic 
 form. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 
 
JOHN MASEFIELD'S 
 
 The Everlasting Mercy, andThe 
 Widow in the Bye Street 
 
 Cloth, $1.35 net ; postpaid, $1.38 
 NEW AND REVISED EDITION 
 
 "The Everlasting Mercy" was awarded the Edward de 
 Polignac prize of $500 by the Royal Society of Literature for 
 the best imaginative work of the year. 
 
 "John Masefield is the man of the hour, and the man of 
 to-morrow too, in poetry and in the playwriting craft." — 
 John Galsworthy. 
 
 " — recreates a wholly new drama of existence." — William 
 Stanley Braithwaite, N. Y. Times. 
 
 "Mr. Masefield comes like a flash of light across contem- 
 porary English poetry, and he trails glory where his imagina- 
 tions reveals the substances of life. The improbable has been 
 accomplished by Mr. Masefield; he has made poetry out 
 of the very material that has refused to yield it for almost 
 a score of years. It has only yielded it with a passion of 
 Keats, and shaped it with the imagination of Coleridge." — 
 Boston Evening Transcript. 
 
 "Originality, force, distinction, and deep knowledge of the 
 human heart." — Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 "They are truly great pieces." — Kentucky Post. 
 
 "A vigor and sincerity rare in modern English literature." 
 — The Independent. 
 
 "If Mr. Masefield has occasionally appeared to touch a 
 reminiscent chord with George Meredith, it is merely an ex- 
 ample of ki9 good taste and the sameness of big themes." — 
 George Middleton in La Follette's Magazine. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 
 
JOHN MASEFIELD'S 
 
 The Story of a Round-House 
 
 and other Poems 
 
 Cloth, i2mo, S1.30 net; postpaid, $1.43 
 
 NEW AND REVISED EDITION 
 
 "John Masefield has produced the finest literature of the 
 year."— J. W. Barrie. 
 
 "John Masefield is the most interesting poetic personality 
 of the day." — The Continent. 
 
 "Ah! the story of that rounding the Horn! Never in 
 prose has the sea been so tremendously described." — Chicago 
 Evening Post. 
 
 "Masefield's new book attracts the widest attention from 
 those who in any degree are interested in the quality of 
 present-day literature." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 "A remarkable poem of the sea." — San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 "Vivid and thrillingly realistic." — Current Literature. 
 
 "A genuine sailor and a genuine poet are a rare combina- 
 tion; they have produced a rare poem of the sea, which has 
 made Mr. Masefield's position in literature secure beyond 
 the reach of caviling." — Everybody's Magazine. 
 
 "Masefield has prisoned in verse the spirit of life at sea." 
 — N. Y. Sun. 
 
 "There is strength about everything Masefield writes that 
 compels the feeling that he has an inward eye on which he 
 draws to shape new films of old pictures. In these pictures 
 is freshness combined with power, which form the keynotes 
 of his poetry."-— N. Y. Globe. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 
 
The Poems of Wilfrid Wilson 
 Gibson 
 
 DAILY BREAD New edition. Three volumes in one. 
 
 $1.25 net 
 
 Contains "The Shirt," a new poem of impressive poignancy 
 and power. 
 
 "A Millet in word-painting, who writes with a terrible 
 simplicity, is Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, born in Hexham, England, 
 in 1878, of whom Canon Cheyne wrote: 'A new poet of the 
 people has risen up among us.' The story of a soul is 
 written as plainly in 'Daily Bread' as in 'The Divine 
 Comedy' and in 'Paradise Lost.'" — The Outlook. 
 
 FIRES $1.25 net 
 
 "In 'Fires' as in 'Daily Bread,' the fundamental note is 
 human sympathy with the whole of life. Impressive as 
 these dramas are, it is in their cumulative effect that they 
 are chiefly powerful." — Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 WOMENKIND $1.25 net 
 
 "Mr. Gibson is a genuine singer of his own day and turns 
 into appealing harmony the world's harshly jarring notes 
 of poverty and pain." — The Outlook. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York 
 
Three Important New Volumes 
 of Poetry 
 
 By JOHN HELSTON 
 
 LONICERA AND OTHER POEMS Preparing 
 
 This book introduces another poet of promise to the verse- 
 lovers of this country. It is of interest to learn that Mr. 
 Helston, who for several years was an operative mechanic 
 in electrical works, has created a remarkable impression in 
 England where much is expected of him. This volume, 
 characterized by verse of rare beauty, presents his most 
 representative work, ranging from the long descriptive title- 
 poem to shorter lyrics. 
 
 By HERMANN HAGEDORN 
 
 POEMS AND BALLADS Preparing 
 
 "His is perhaps the most confident of the prophecies of 
 our new poets for he has seen most clearly the poetry in 
 the new life. His song is full of the spirit of youth and hope. 
 ... It is the song that the new century needs. His verse 
 is strong and flexible and has an ease, a naturalness, a rhythm 
 that is rare in young poets. In many of his shorter lyrics 
 he recalls Heine." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 By FANNIE STEARNS DAVIS 
 
 MYSELF AND I $1.00 net 
 
 "For some years the poems of Miss Davis have attracted 
 wide attention in the best periodicals. That note of wistful 
 mysticism which shimmers in almost every line gives her 
 art a distinction that is bound to make its appeal. In this 
 first book — where every verse is significant — Miss Davis has 
 achieved very beautiful and serious poetry." — Boston Tran- 
 script. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 64-66 Fifth Avenue , New York 
 
AUSTIN BOOK SHOP 
 BERNARD TITOWSKY 
 82-64 AUSTIN STREET