Captain William Kidd and Others of the Buccaneers. Abbott John Stevens Cabot

of Avery. – His wretched Career, and wretched End.

      Captain Kidd, with a piratic frown upon his brow, and piratic oaths upon his lips, turned to Mr. Le Roy and said:

      “Do you pretend that this is not a French ship, and that you are but a passenger on board?”

      “It is so,” Mr. Le Roy politely replied. “I am a stranger in these parts, and have merely taken passage on board this native ship, under Captain Mitchel, on my way to Bombay.”

      “It is a lie,” said the pirate, as he drew from his belt a pistol and cocked it. “This is a French ship, and you are its captain; and it is my lawful prize. If you deny this, you shall instantly die.”

      The features of Kidd, and his words blended with oaths, convinced Mr. Le Roy that he was in the hands of a desperate man, who would shrink from no crime. He was silent. Kidd then added:

      “I seize this ship as my legitimate prize. It belongs to a French subject, and is sailing under the French flag. I have a commission from his majesty the King of England to seize all such ships in his name.”

      It seems strange that Kidd, after the many lawless acts of which he had already been guilty, should have deemed it of any consequence to have recourse to so wretched a quibble. But the incident shows that the New-York merchant, formerly of good reputation, still recoiled from the thought of plunging headlong into a piratic career. By observing these forms he could, in this case, should he ever have occasion to do so, claim the protection of the royal commission authorizing him to capture French ships.

      Kidd took his prize, which he called the November, because it was captured in that month, into one of the East-Indian ports, and sold ship and cargo for what they would fetch. What the amount was, or how he divided it, is not known. Again he resumed his cruise. It was evident that he had become anxious to renounce the career of pirate, upon which he had barely entered, and resume that of privateersman. They soon came across a Dutch ship, unmistakably such, in build and flag and rigging. The crew clamored for its capture; Kidd resolutely opposed it. A mutiny arose. A minority of the ship’s company adhered to the captain. The majority declared that they would arm the boats and go and seize her.

      The captain, with drawn sabre in his hand, and pistols in his belt, and surrounded by those still faithful to him, stood upon her quarter-deck and said to the mutineers, firmly:

      “You may take the boats and go. But those who thus leave this ship will never ascend its sides again.”

      One of the men, a gunner by the name of William Moore, was particularly violent and abusive. With threatening gestures he approached the captain, assailing him in the most vituperative terms, saying:

      “You are ruining us all. You are keeping us in beggary and starvation. But for your whims we might all be prosperous and rich.”

      The captain was by no means a meek man. In his ungovernable passion he seized an iron-bound bucket, which chanced to be lying at his side, and gave the mutineer such a blow as fractured his skull and struck him senseless to the deck. Of the wound the gunner died the next day. Not many will feel disposed to censure Captain Kidd very severely for this act. It was not a premeditated murder. It was perhaps a necessary deed, in quelling a mutiny, in which the mutineers were demanding that the black flag of the pirate should be raised, and which demand the captain was resisting. And yet it is probable that this blow sent Kidd to the gallows. Upon his subsequent trial, but little evidence of piracy could be adduced, and the death of Moore was the prominent charge brought against him.

      Kidd ever averred that it was a virtuous act, and that it did not trouble his conscience. It was done to prevent piracy and mutiny. He also averred that he had no intention to kill the man. Had he so intended he would have used pistol or sabre. In the ballad which, half a century ago, was sung in hundreds of farm-houses in New England, the lullaby of infancy, the event is alluded to in the following words:

      “I murdered William Moore, as I sailed, as I sailed,

      I murdered William Moore as I sailed;

      I murdered William Moore, and left him in his gore,

      Not many leagues from shore, as I sailed.”

      We will give a few more verses to show the general character of this ballad of twenty-five stanzas, once so popular, now forgotten:

      “My name was William Kidd, when I sailed, when I sailed,

      My name was William Kidd when I sailed,

      My name was William Kidd, God’s laws I did forbid,

      And so wickedly I did when I sailed.

      “Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die, I must die,

      Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die;

      Thus being o’ertaken at last, and into prison cast,

      And sentence being pass’d, I must die.

      “To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die, and must die,

      To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die,

      To Newgate now I’m cast, with sad and heavy heart,

      To receive my just desert, I must die.

      “To Execution Dock I must go, I must go,

      To Execution Dock I must go;

      To Execution Dock will many thousands flock,

      But I must bear my shock, and must die.

      “Come all ye young and old, see me die, see me die,

      Come all ye young and old, see me die;

      Come all ye young and old, you’re welcome to my gold,

      For by it I’ve lost my soul, and must die.”

      The Dutchman had no consciousness of the peril to which he had been exposed. The two ships kept company for several days, and then separated. Is it possible that all this time Kidd was hesitating whether to raise the black flag and seize the prize? It looks like it; for a few days after the Dutch ship had disappeared, quite a fleet of Malabar boats were met with, laden with provisions and other articles which Kidd needed. Unscrupulously he plundered them all. Probably he had no fears that tidings of the outrage would ever reach England. And even if a rumor of the deed were ever to reach those distant shores, he had no apprehension that England would trouble herself to punish him for a little harsh treatment of semi-savages on the coast of Malabar.

      A few days after this robbery a Portuguese ship hove in sight. Kidd’s moral nature was every hour growing weaker. He could no longer resist the temptation to seize the prize. He robbed the vessel of articles to the estimated value of two thousand dollars, and let her go, inflicting no injury upon the ship’s company.

      For three weeks they continued to cruise over a sailless sea, when one morning, about the middle of December, an immense mass of canvas was seen rising over the distant horizon. It proved to be a native ship of four hundred tons burden. The ship was called the Quedagh Merchant, was very richly laden, and was commanded by an Englishman, Captain Wright. The wealthy merchants of the East were fully aware of the superior nautical skill of the English seaman, and were eager to intrust their important ventures to European commanders.

      Kidd unfurled the French flag, chased the ship, and soon overtook it. A cannon-ball whistling over the heads of the crew was the very significant hint with which the ship was commanded to heave to. Kidd ordered the captain to lower his boat and come on board the Adventure. The captain obeyed and informed the pirate that all the crew were East Indians, excepting two Dutchmen and one Frenchman, and that the ship belonged exclusively to East-Indian merchants.

      Kidd took piratic possession of the ship. He had not the shadow of a claim to it on the ground of his commission as a privateersman. He landed the officers and the crew, in boatload after boatload, upon the shore, and left them to shift for themselves. One or two of the merchants who owned the ship and cargo were on board. They offered the pirate twenty thousand rupees, which was equivalent to about fifteen thousand dollars, to ransom the property. Kidd declined the offer.

      His