behind Kidd’s shoulder: “Fill a bucket!” He whirled on it but his cutlass slashed only empty air, and he wiped a fleck of foam from his lips. Then he hanged some Armenians. When Kidd attacked the Lark he slept stretched out on his bunk after the division of the loot. Waking in a heavy sweat he called for water to bathe himself. A sailor brought it in a pewter basin. Staring at that common receptacle Kidd exclaimed: “Is that what you bring a gentleman of fortune... a bucket of blood?” The sailor fled; later Kidd drove him from the ship, marooning him on a remote rock with a rifle, a powder horn and a flask of water. When Captain Kidd buried his famous treasures in so many lonely places he had no other reason but the persuasion that his murdered gunner came every night with his bloody bucket to dig up the gold and hurl it into the sea.
Captured at last in New York, Kidd was sent by Lord Bellamont to London where he was tried and hanged on Execution Dock in his red cloak and his gloves. When the hangman placed the black Milan cap over his eyes, Kidd cried out: “Great God! he’s putting his bucket over my head!” The blackened corpse hung in chains for more than twenty years.
WALTER KENNEDY
Unlettered Pirate
Captain Kennedy was an Irishman. He could neither read nor write. Under the great Roberts he rose to the lieutenant grade by merit of his talent for torture. He was perfection itself at the art of tightening a cord around a prisoner’s brow until his eyes popped out, or of tickling his face with a flaming palm leaf. When Darby Mullin was tried for treason aboard the Corsaire , Captain Kennedy’s reputation became assured. Seated in a semi-circle behind the wheel house, the judges assembled with their long tobacco pipes around a bowl of punch.
Then the process began. They were about to vote the verdict when someone suggested another pipe before concluding the business. Kennedy rose, drew his clay from his pocket, spat and delivered himself of the following sentiments:
“Great God, sirs, devil take me if we don’t hang me old comrade Darby Mullin. Darby’s a good lad and bugger the man who says he ain’t. And we’re gentlemen o’ fortune. Hell, Darby and me has bunked together: I love him with all me heart, I do. But Great God, sirs, I know him, the bastard. He’ll never repent, devil take me if he will, eh, ain’t that so, Darby me lad? Good God, go ahead and hang him! Hang him by all means. And now, sirs, with the leave o’ the honorable company I’ll just step up and take a good swig to his health.”
This discourse was considered admirable – as great as any of those noble military orations reported by the ancients. Roberts was enchanted, and from that day Kennedy became ambitious. Near Barbados Roberts embarked in a sloop to pursue a Portuguese vessel. During his absence Kennedy forced his shipmates to elect him captain of the Corsaire , then sailed away on an enterprise of his own making. He looted and scuttled numerous brigantines and galleys carrying cargoes of sugar or tobacco from Brazil, not to speak of the gold dust and sacks of doubloons and pieces of eight. His black silk flag displayed a death’s head, two cross bones, an hour glass and a heart pierced by an arrow from which fell three drops of blood. With that insignia flying, he one day encountered a peaceable ship from Virginia, under the command of a Quaker named Knot. The pious man had neither rum, pistol, cutlass nor sabre aboard. He was dressed in a long black coat topped by a broad-brimmed hat of the same colour.
“Great God!” exclaimed Kennedy. “Here’s a cheery fellow! Now that’s what I like to see. No harm to my friend Captain Knot who wears such a joyful uniform.”
“Amen,” responded Knot, “so be it.”
Then the pirates threw gifts to the Quaker: thirty moidors, ten rolls of Brazilian tobacco and several packets of emeralds. Brother Knot picked up the moidors, the gems and the
Captured at last in New York, Kidd was sent by Lord Bellamont to London where he was tried and hanged on Execution Dock in his red cloak and his gloves. When the hangman placed the black Milan cap over his eyes, Kidd cried out: “Great God! he’s putting his bucket over my head!” The blackened corpse hung in chains for more than twenty years.
WALTER KENNEDY
Unlettered Pirate
Captain Kennedy was an Irishman. He could neither read nor write. Under the great Roberts he rose to the lieutenant grade by merit of his talent for torture. He was perfection itself at the art of tightening a cord around a prisoner’s brow until his eyes popped out, or of tickling his face with a flaming palm leaf. When Darby Mullin was tried for treason aboard the Corsaire , Captain Kennedy’s reputation became assured. Seated in a semi-circle behind the wheel house, the judges assembled with their long tobacco pipes around a bowl of punch.
Then the process began. They were about to vote the verdict when someone suggested another pipe before concluding the business. Kennedy rose, drew his clay from his pocket, spat and delivered himself of the following sentiments:
“Great God, sirs, devil take me if we don’t hang me old comrade Darby Mullin. Darby’s a good lad and bugger the man who says he ain’t. And we’re gentlemen o’ fortune. Hell, Darby and me has bunked together: I love him with all me heart, I do. But Great God, sirs, I know him, the bastard. He’ll never repent, devil take me if he will, eh, ain’t that so, Darby me lad? Good God, go ahead and hang him! Hang him by all means. And now, sirs, with the leave o’ the honorable company I’ll just step up and take a good swig to his health.”
This discourse was considered admirable – as great as any of those noble military orations reported by the ancients. Roberts was enchanted, and from that day Kennedy became ambitious. Near Barbados Roberts embarked in a sloop to pursue a Portuguese vessel. During his absence Kennedy forced his shipmates to elect him captain of the Corsaire , then sailed away on an enterprise of his own making. He looted and scuttled numerous brigantines and galleys carrying cargoes of sugar or tobacco from Brazil, not to speak of the gold dust and sacks of doubloons and pieces of eight. His black silk flag displayed a death’s head, two cross bones, an hour glass and a heart pierced by an arrow from which fell three drops of blood. With that insignia flying, he one day encountered a peaceable ship from Virginia, under the command of a Quaker named Knot. The pious man had neither rum, pistol, cutlass nor sabre aboard. He was dressed in a long black coat topped by a broad-brimmed hat of the same colour.
“Great God!” exclaimed Kennedy. “Here’s a cheery fellow! Now that’s what I like to see. No harm to my friend Captain Knot who wears such a joyful uniform.”
“Amen,” responded Knot, “so be it.”
Then the pirates threw gifts to the Quaker: thirty moidors, ten rolls of Brazilian tobacco and several packets of emeralds. Brother Knot picked up the moidors, the gems and the
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