University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.
“WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE?”

“We are now within the atmosphere of your southern
Hotspur,” said our Gothamite. “Come, sir,” addressing our
cynical orator from Alabama, “come, sir, and let us have your
portrait of the South-Carolinian. You have dealt freely with Virginia
and North Carolina, showing us their more salient features,
which are rarely the most comely for boast; let us see if you
can not depict their southern brother with as free and dashing a
pencil.”

The Alabamian smiled, and looked to Miss Burroughs, as he
replied: —

“I dare not; in this instance there is a lady in the case.”

“Oh! most unlooked-for and most unseasonable gallantry!”
exclaimed the lady. “Do you forget, Sir Orator, those wicked
and scandalous ballads, to the grievous disparagement of the
sex, which you not only sang to us of your own motion, a volunteer
performance, but which you sang with such unction and
effect, as if the execution were a sort of labor of love, which you
would not escape, even if you might?”

“Ah! forgive the offence. It was in evil mood that I sang,
and not because of any love for the subject.”

“He's been kicked, I reckon, by some lady only t'other
day,” said the Texan, roughly, “and the shins of his affections
are still sore with the bruises.”

“The shins of his affections! That is surely new. What
admirable cropping, in the way of metaphor and figure, might
our young ballad-mongers find in the fields of Texas! Well,
I will submit to the imputation of the recent kicking, as an acknowledgment
of the merits of that phrase. `The shins of the
affections!' We shall next hear something touching, `the tenderness

of the corns on the big toe of the heart.' When shall
there be a Texan poet.”

“Lord save you, we've got a matters of more than fifty-five
already. We've got a Texan Hemans, and a Texan Tennyson
— nay, we've got three Tennysons, and more than thirteen Byrons.
Oh! we are not so badly off for poets as you think. In
Galveston there's a poet who weighs more than two hundred
and eighty pounds, and he has sighed out love poetry enough to
fill the sails of a California clipper. It's the opinion of some of
our people that we owe most of our worthies to his love poems.
Latterly, he's gone into the elegiac; and since Tennyson's `In
Memoriam,' he has done nothing but write `In Memoriams.' He
has mourned the loss of more dear friends since the date of that
publication, than he ever knew people. In fact, not to be irreverent,
speaking of poetry, there's hardly a person in all Texas
that would lend him a picayune, though it should save his soul
from the gallows.”

“Save his soul from the gallows! A new idea of the punishments
employed in Tophet. Fancy the soul of a poet weighing
two hundred and eighty pounds hung up to dry in the devil's
clothes garden!”

“But all this talk,” interrupted the son of Gotham, “must not
be suffered to deprive us of our portrait of the South-Carolinian.”

“You get no such portrait from me,” answered the Alabamian,
abruptly.

“And why not?” interrupted the North-Carolinian. “You
had no scruples in dealing with the Old Dominion and the old
North State.”

“Very true: but there are reasons why I should have scruples
when we come to South Carolina. I know the faults and
the foibles of that little state as well as any person in this crowd,
and I am as well able, I reckon, to describe them. But I will
not. In the first place, I look to that same state to set us right
yet in this confederacy. I feel that she will be the first to dare
and brave the struggle when it comes, and I will in no way,
however small, do or say anything to weaken her hands by disparaging
her features. Besides, Miss Burroughs — this to you —
I owe my mother to South Carolina, and the cradle which has

rocked a mother should be an ark of the covenant to a loving
son.”

Our Alabamian, by showing himself sentimental for a single
moment, had once more put himself within the pale of the vulgar
humanity. It was very clear that we should get nothing
further out of him on the one subject. Our North-Carolinian
endeavored to supply the desired portrait, but the limning was
contradictory — in fact, the moral portrait of South Carolina is
one of many difficulties, which it requires a rare and various
knowledge, and no small skill of the artist to manage and overcome:
and gradually, the embarrassments of the subject were
felt, as the discussion of her traits proceeded, and the subject
was finally abandoned as one totally unmanageable. Of course
much was said of her luxury, her pride and arrogance, her presumption
in leading, the vanity of her boasts, her short-comings
in a thousand respects; all of which provoked keen retort, particularly
from our secessionists — the Alabamian scarcely seeming
to heed the controversy, and taking no part in it till its close,
when he said briefly: —

“One word, gentlemen. South Carolina is the only state
in the Union which grants no divorce. If there were nothing
else, in the catalogue of her virtues to show the character of her
virtues, this would suffice. It says two things. It declares for
the steadiness and constancy of both sexes, and for the virtues
that render such a measure unnecessary. Her morals prevent,
instead of pampering, the caprices of the affections—”

“Yes, but there are some crimes! It would be monstrous to
keep parties fettered, one of whom is a criminal —”

“I understand you! They do not keep together. In Carolina,
in all such cases, the criminal dies — disappears, at all
events, and the social world never mentions again the name of
the offender.”

“Very Roman, certainly.”

The Alabamian did not heed the sneer, but proceeded —

“South Carolina is the only state in which there is anything
like loyalty to the past remaining. She preserves her veneration.
The state is protected from the people.”

“How is that? Is not the state the people.”

“No! very far from it. The state is a thing of thousands of

years, past and future, constituting a moral which is to be saved
from the caprices of the people. People change daily, and in
their daily change, filled with novel hopes and expectations, and
urged on by eager passions and desires, would easily forego a
thousand absolute possessions which no people at any one time
sufficiently values. In truth, it is only when we tremble at the
onward and reckless course of a majority, that we are awakened
to the fact that there are some things which they have no right
to sacrifice. It is then that we see that the possessions and accumulations
of the past are not an inheritance, but a trust; and
we who occupy only a moment of time, in the general progress
of the ages, are taught by this fact that we have no absolute
rights over possessions which belong to generations yet untold
in the future, and but partially recorded in the past. To guard
the state from the people, we resort to a thousand devices, such
as constitutions, bills of rights, &c., none of which is satisfactory
for the sufficient reason that the subject is one of singular subtilty
which escapes practical definition. It is, however, within our
instincts, and these work in a thousand ways, and in spite of us,
for its preservation. When these fail us, the state is gone, and
the people soon follow. They are then without God or country.
The French revolution was an instance of the sacrifice of the
state — that vague and vast idea, growing out of the gradual acquisitions
of thousands of years of a common fortune in the family,
or race — by a mere generation just passing off the stage.
Look at the summary in France to-day. Where is the liberty,
the equality, the republicanism, which were all their avowed
objects? What is left them of sacred tradition, of past loyalty
and acquisition, of moral security — which must precede if it
would maintain physical —of all that was deemed certain in the
characteristics of the race? The guardian securities and virtues
of a people lie in that social ideal which is embodied in the notion
of the state as a thing permanent, contradistinguished from
a mere generation or government — things which contemplate
only passing necessities, and continual fluctuations, and are required
to contribute in passing only a certain portion of capital
to that grand stock which has been already put away safely
within the securities of the ideal state. The state is a guardian
ideal, and the conservative check upon the caprices of time.
The state represents the eternity of a race — its whole duration
whether long or short. Cut the sinews of the state, in obedience
to the caprices of a generation, and they must perish. All this is
very obscure, I know, and it can not well be otherwise, with
such a subject, and in a mere casual conversation. It must necessarily
elude all common demonstrative analysis, particularly
as it lies based on great but mysterious secrets, in the general
plan of Providence, which it is scarcely permitted to us to explore.
The subject belongs to the spiritual nature in high degree and
is not to be measured by the common rules of argument. It
constitutes a study for the metaphysician who is at the same
time, a religious man. It is one of those problems which the
rulers of a people have need carefully to study, as it is upon the
due knowledge and appreciation of `the state,' that every people's
future must depend. Nations perish really because of their
simple failure to recognise this distinction between state and
people: and it is thus that a capricious generation, perpetually
bent on change, restless and impatient because of its atrocious
vanity, still wrecks all the ideal morals of their ancestors, and
all the hopes, born of those ideals, which would conduct their
posterity to power.”

“I confess this transcendentalism is quite too much for me. I
do not see the meaning yet of your distinction. It appears to
me only a dreamy sophism.”

“Precisely, and if you will show me the man to whom a metaphysical
subtilty is for the first time presented, who is prepared
on the instant not only to argue it but to judge it, I shall be
willing to attach some importance to your present cavalier dismissal
of the topic. Your process seems to be that of one of our
western members of Congress, who, some years ago, began his
speech with, `I don't know nothing, Mr. Speaker, of the subject
hyar before us, but I intend to go on argyfying it ontil I
gits all the necessary knowledge.' But even he, bold and
brave and candid as he was, never ventured to decide. He only
proposed to use `argyment' as a means of getting his `edication.'”

“Why, you are perfectly savage.”

“No; searching only.— To resume our subject for a moment
longer. There is a passage from one of our southern poets, who

has endeavored to express something of this idea of `the state'
as it appears to my own mind. Like all others, who have spoken
and written on the point, the subtilty still eludes him; but
enough is said to give the clues into the hands of the metaphysician;
and no other person, by the way, has any right to pass
upon it.”

“Let's have the passage.”

The Alabamian delivered it, from memory, to the following
effect:—

“THE STATE.

The orator paused.

“Is that all? Why, we are no nigher to the solution of the
problem than before.”

“I suppose not. Poetry, the profoundest of all human studies,
itself requires the abstract mind and the contemplative
mood; and the necessity for these is the greater when it deals
in metaphysics and politics. Perhaps, if you weigh well this
passage, you will gradually see the light through the cloud and
curtain. Precious things rarely lie upon the surface. In proportion
to the glory is the necessity of obscuration. God showed
himself to the Jews only through clouds and fire. They could
see him only through some material medium. It was the poet
prophet only who could discover his awful features through less
terrible agencies.”

“You are getting more and more obscure. Now, pray tell us,
what have all your metaphysics to do with South Carolina?”

“Nothing, that I can show you, unless you can take the first
step with me — which, as yet, you can not. It may be enough
to say of South Carolina, that it is a sufficient merit of hers, in
my eyes, that her revolutionary spirit (so called) has been the
result of her loyalty; that it was to check revolution that she
interposed the state veto, and threw down her gauntlet to federal
usurpation. You all feel and see, now, that she was right.

You are all in possession of free trade and a prosperous progress,
the result of her course, which leaves the condition of the country
unexampled in history for its growth and prosperity. Her
conservatism, not her resolution, prompted her action; and she
still adheres to her conservative tendencies, while all other states
are rocking with the conflict of revolutionary ideas. She still
preserves her veneration. There are still many classes within
her limits, who maintain the morals of her dawn — who seek to
preserve sacred that capital of ideal in the state which, kept
always in view as a guiding light, renders progress a safe and
natural development, and not an inane and insane coursing in a
circle where we for ever come in conflict with one another.
Here you find, still of force, the manners and customs, the sentiments
and traditions, that she held to be great and glorious
eighty years ago; and which have enabled her, though one of
the smallest states in the confederacy, to contribute a large proportion
of its greatest warriors, its noblest and wisest sages, its
purest and most venerated men. You can not bully her out of
her propriety, for she has unshaken courage; you can not buy
her with any bribe, for she has always shown herself scornful
of cupidity. She maintains still the haughty sentiments of a
race of gentlemen who never descended to meanness. She has
a thousand foibles, faults — nay, follies — perhaps, but she has
some virtues which power can not crush out of her, or money
buy: and she will be the state, let me tell you, who will save
all that is worth saving in this confederacy, even when the confederacy
itself perishes.”

“Why, old Blast,” interposed the Texan, “you must be
thinking that you're on the stump. You do put your horns
into the bowels of the argument, just as if you knew where you
was a-going all the time. Lord, how Sam Houston would laugh
if you was to tell him of such prophecies as that.”

“Sam Houston! Sir, don't speak to me of Sam Houston.
He's beyond the reach of prophecy, which is never addressed
to any but living souls!”

“Well, I must say that's a settler for Sam. But he'll take
the change out of you, I reckon, when he comes to be president.
You'll never get a foreign appointment from him, I'm a-thinking;
and I reckon Sam's chance for the presidency is about as
good as that of any man going.”

We put in here, several of us, to arrest the partisan tendency
of the discussion, which evidently began to “rile” some of the
parties; and our excellent captain came to our assistance, with
his jest and smile, his quip and crank, which have always proved
so effective in curing the maladie du mer among his passengers.

“I'm president here, gentlemen,” said he, “and I hold it to
be good law to declare that it is high treason to discuss the succession.
As there is some talk of appointments, I beg to say,
that if any of you wish office, the governorship of Bull's is
vacant.”

And he pointed us to the island of that name which made the
rim of the horizon for us on the north.

“There is an island, gentlemen, upon which a man might be
a sovereign. Solitude in perfection, game in abundance, fine
fish of all sorts, oysters to beguile even an alderman to fleshly
and fishy inclination — such a realm as would satisfy Alexander
Selkirk, and make Robinson Crusoe dance with delight. I have
often thought of Bull's as an island upon which a man might
be at peace with all the world, and with fortune and himself in
particular.”

“A sort of heaven on earth.”

“And sea. It has fine harborage, too. The coast survey
has made it a harbor of refuge, and we are soon to have a lighthouse
upon it.”

“The pirates knew it as a place of refuge a hundred years
ago and more. Here Robert Kidd, `as he sailed,' and that more
monstrous ruffian Blackbeard, and a hundred other fierce outlaws
of the same practice, found their place of refuge and rollicking.
Nor here alone: all the range of islands which run
along the coast, between which and the main there are numerous
islets of great beauty and interest, are distinguished
by traditions of wild and sometimes terrible attraction. Many
of these have been marked as spots conspicuous in history,
and all of them possess their legends and chronicles, which
only need to be hunted up and put on record, to render all of
them classical and interesting, apart from their natural attractions.
The whole of this region was the favorite resort of
the pirates, and at periods long anterior to the Revolution,
— those periods when, as the phrase ran through the marine

of Great Britain, `there was no peace beyond the line!' In
these snug harbors and safe retreats the mousing robber found
his coverts. Here he lay close until he beheld, from afar, the
white sails of the fair trader. Then he darted forth like the
shark, a little black speck upon the waters, and tore his victim
with angry and remorseless jaws, and dyed the blue waters in
his blood. To these islets he hurried back to divide and to hide
his spoil; and dark and terrible are the thousand stories which,
could they speak, they might narrate of the wild orgies of the
cruel bands by which they were infested — of the bloody sacrifices
which they witnessed — and of the fate of the victims guilty
of the inexpiable offence of possessing treasures which their
neighbors coveted. Young eagles must be fed, and the eagles
of the sea are proverbially the most voracious of all the eagle
tribe. These were merciless. They hovered about the mouth
of Charleston for long periods, and it was in vain that Britain
kept watch with her frigates and guarda costas for the protection
of her trade. Her wealth, as a colony, was at that time
superior to most of the colonies, and demanded powerful protection.
But so swift of foot, so keen of sight, so fierce of appetite,
were these marauding wretches, that they too commonly evaded
pursuit, and not only succeeded in capturing the outward-bound
vessels continually, but sometimes laid the infant city, itself,
under contribution.

“Our friend from North Carolina has bestowed upon us a
very interesting narrative of the `Ship of Fire.' The tradition
is well known in portions of South Carolina; and to this day
certain families are pointed out as the descendants of those
cruel mariners who so mercilessly slaughtered that little colony
of German palatines. Our traditions point out the progeny of
these pirates as still under the avenging danger of the fates.
They are marked by continuous disasters. The favorite son
perishes, from some terrible accident, in the moment of his very
highest promise; the favorite daughter withers away in consumption
or some nameless disease, just as she nears that bloomy
period when the mother thinks to place within her hair the
bridal flower. The neighbors shake their heads and look knowingly
when the bolt descends suddenly upon those families, and
express no surprise. `It must be so,' they say. `The fates

must have their prey. The blood of that massacre must be
washed out in blood. All these families, the descendants of
the murderers, must die out, till not one man-child shall survive.'
Their ill-gotten wealth does them no good. Their fruits turn
to ashes on their lips. The sword, suspended by a single hair,
hangs for ever over their heads, and the bolt strikes them down
from the bosom of an unclouded sky. So well has tradition
retained these memories, that people will even give you the
names of the families, still living, over which this terribly unerring
destiny impends. I have had one or more domestic chronicles
of this sort put into my possession within five years. Of
course, the doomed victims have no sort of knowledge either of
the fates reserved for them, or of the familiarity of their neighbors
with the unwritten tradition. Old people point them out
to their children; they repeat the story to their sons, and their
fingers point always to the illustrative catastrophe. Every
stroke of Providence is keenly observed and dwelt upon which
touches them; and it may be safely affirmed that the tradition
will survive them all, and point to the grave of the last supposed
victim of a crime committed two hundred years ago or more.”

“How very terrible!”

“These several islands which we approach after Bull's, Dewee's,
Caper's, Long, and Sullivan, and the islets which lie within,
between them and the main, are all thus fruitful in ancient
pirate legends. One of these occurs to me at this moment; and,
as I believe I am the next person chronicled on your list for a
story, I may as well pursue the vein upon which we have struck,
as it were, by chance.”

“O, let us have it, by all means. I confess to a passion for
such stories, which even the reading of the Book of the Buccaneers
has not totally overcome.”

THE STORY OF BLACKBEARD.

1. I.

“The narrative,” said our raconteur, “which I am about to
give you, was related to me by one of our oldest inhabitants, a
planter who is still living at the advanced period of eighty years,

and who ranks not less venerably from worth than age. He
heard it from those who claimed to have known personally some
of the parties to the history, and who fully believed the truth
of the story which they told. The period of the narrative was,
perhaps, a quarter of a century before the Revolution.

“You are all aware that from 1670 to 1750, using round numbers,
the buccaneers, leagued of all nations, no longer confining
themselves to the Spanish galleons, which were always held to
be fair prey to the British cruisers, made the commerce of Britain
herself finally their prey, and literally haunted with daily terrors
the coasts of Virginia and the two Carolinas, as well as
the West Indies, making spoil of their rich and but little protected
productions. Their crews, composed of the scum of all
nations — British, French, Dutch, Portuguese, and Spaniards —
discriminated in behalf of none; and so loose were British and
American morals at that period — (have they very much improved
since?) — that the people of the provinces themselves — their
very governors — were greatly inclined to countenance the flibustiers
(French corruption of freebooters) in all those cases of
piracy where they themselves were not the immediate sufferers.
They drove a profitable trade with the marauders, who were
sometimes to be seen walking the streets of the Atlantic cities
with the most perfect impunity. Captain Kidd, for a long time,
was the great master-spirit of these wretches. His successor in
audacity, insolence, and crime, was the infamous Blackbeard,
the nom du guerre by which he preferred that the world should
read his character. His proper name, Edward Teach, was, in
itself, innocent enough.

“Blackbeard particularly affected the coasts of Carolina.
The waters over which we now go were the favorite fields of
his performance. Harbored among these islands — Bull's, Dewee's,
Caper's, Sullivan, Seewee, and others — he lay in close
watch for the white sails of commerce. He explored all these
bays and harbors, and knew their currents and bearings well,
from the cape of Hatteras to that of Florida reef. He had
command of a complete squadron, including vessels of nearly
all sizes. His flag was hoisted upon a forty-gun ship, the crew
of which consisted of more than a hundred men. His captains
were Vane, Bonnet, Warley, and others, inferior to himself only

in hardihood and skill. Somewhere about 1713, a proclamation
had been issued by the king in council, promising a pardon
to all the pirates who should surrender themselves in twelve
months. Blackbeard was one of those who, either through a
cunning policy, meant to delude the powers which he feared he
should not so readily escape, or under a sudden uneasiness of
conscience, presented himself before Governor Eden, of North
Carolina, pleaded the king's pardon, and received the governor's
certificate. Eden, by the way, was one of those governors of
whom history speaks, as having received the bribes of the
pirates, and kept up a criminal but profitable connection with
Blackbeard in particular.

“Blackbeard, the better to prove his resolve to demean himself
for the future with Christian propriety, married his thirteenth
wife, a young girl of Pamplico. But he could not long forbear
his riotous habits, or forego his passion for adventures upon the
sea. He was soon again on board a smart cruiser, and reaping
the fields of ocean with the sword. He sailed upon a cruise,
carrying his new wife with him, and shortly returned with a
valuable prize, a French ship laden with sugar and cocoa, which
he had no difficulty in persuading the court of admiralty he
had found at sea, abandoned by her crew. She was adjudged
as a lawful prize to her unlawful captors. Here our narrative
begins. Thus far, our facts are strictly historical — except, perhaps,
in regard to the fact stated, that his new wife, the girl of
Pamplico, accompanied him on this cruise. But the fact, omitted
by history, is supplied by tradition, which asserts that the
girl herself figured somewhat in the incidents connected with
the capture of the French prize.

“Blackbeard steered south when he left the river of Cape
Fear. The season was mild, late spring — the seas smooth —
the winds fresh and favorable. Soon they espied the French
brigantine laying her course, due east from the tropical islands.

“As he beheld his new prey, the savage chief — who, in
taking the oath and receiving the king's pardon from the royal
governor, had not denuded himself of a single hair of that
enormous forest of beard which literally covered his face, head,
and breast, and from which he took his name — chucked his new
wife under the chin, and swore a terrible oath that the girl should

see sights, should drink of the wine of the Indies, and enjoy
their fruits, and be clad in the beautiful silks of the Frenchman.

“All sail was clapped on for pursuit. The Frenchman knew
his danger, at a glance. Not more certainly does the flying-fish
know his enemy the dolphin, or the tunny the swordfish, or the
sailor the shark, than the simple trader the deadly danger of that
pirate foe, who combined all the terrible characteristics of these
several marauders of the sea. Fleet was the Frenchman in flight,
but, unhappily, fleeter far was the outlaw in pursuit. Very precious
was the Frenchman's cargo; one more precious still,
among his passengers, was the fair creole wife of the young
merchant, Louis Chastaign, now, for the first time, preparing to
visit the birthplace of her husband. They, too, were soon made
aware of the danger, and, while the wife watched, and prayed,
and trembled, the young husband got his cutlass and his carabine
in readiness, and prepared to do battle to the last in defence
of the precious treasure of his heart.

“But his resolution was not to be indulged. The captain of
the merchantman had no adequate force for resistance, and he
prepared for none. He shook his head when Louis Chastaign
spoke of it, and appeared on deck with his weapons.

“`It will not do, Monsieur Louis.'

“`And shall we yield tamely to these wretches? They are
pirates!'

“`I fear so. But they are two to one. We have no arms.
What can a dozen swords and pistols do against a hundred
men?'

“`Better die bravely fighting than basely to offer our throats
to the knife.'

“`Nay, our hope is that they will content themselves with
robbing us of our treasures.'

“The young merchant turned with a look of agony on his
beautiful creole. He knew what the appetites of the pirates
were. He feared for the one treasure, over all, and thought
nothing of the rest, though the better portion of the ship's cargo
was his own. The chase was nearing fast. The Frenchman
continued to try his heels, but in vain.

“`He gains rapidly, Monsieur Louis. Put away your weapons,

my friend; the very show of them may provoke him to
cruelty.'

“The poor young man was compelled to submit, yet, in putting
his weapons out of sight, he felt as if his treasure was
already gone.

“`Is there really so much danger, Louis?' asked the trembling
woman of her husband. He could only shake his head
mournfully in reply. Then she kissed the cross which she had
in her hand, and hid it away in her bosom, and followed her
young lord upon the deck of the vessel.

“At that moment, the cannon belched forth its fires from the
pursuing pirate; the iron missiles shot through the rigging of the
Frenchman, and with a groan he ordered sail to be taken in;
and prepared for submission to the enemy from whom there was
no escape.

2. II.

“Very soon the pirate vessel came alongside of the peaceful
trader. Her wild and savage crew were ranged along the bulwarks,
each armed with cutlass and half a score of pistols conspicuous
in belt and bosom. Very terrible was the exhibition
which they made of wild beard and brutal aspect. With a torrent
of oaths, Blackbeard himself hailed the Frenchman, who
put on all his politeness in responding to the insolent demands
of his assailant. The vessels were lashed together by grapplings,
the pirates streamed on board, and a general search was
begun. Meanwhile, the young creole bride of Louis Chastaign
kept at her prayers below. Here she was found, and dragged
up to the deck at the command of the pirate-chief. The passengers,
all, and crew, were made to gather on the deck, under
the pistols of a score of the marauders, while the rest ransacked
the hold and cabin.

“The examination lasted not long. Blackbeard soon discovered
that the cargo was one for which he should have to find a
market. Its treasures were not readily portable, nor easily converted
into money. The gold and silver, jewels, and precious
stones, found in the trunks of the young French merchant,
though of considerable value, bore no proportion to the value of
the cargo, the bulk of which rendered it necessary that the vessel

should be carried into port. This necessity implied another.
The crew and passengers must be disposed of. As the scheme
presented itself to the mind of Blackbeard to have the vessel
condemned by the court of admiralty as a lawful prize, it needed
that he should be prepared to report that she was found abandoned
by her proper owners. This resolve required that he
should suffer no witnesses to live who might expose the true nature
of the transaction. He had no remorseful scruples, and
the decree was soon pronounced. The unhappy captives were
doomed to walk the plank.

“That is to say, all were thus doomed who should refuse to
join the pirate party. There was this terrible alternative to be
allowed them. Accordingly, having seen what were the treasures
of the ship, and fully satisfied himself of what she contained,
he reascended to the deck, where the unfortunate crew
were held in durance, pale and trembling, in waiting for their
fate. Brief consultation had been needed among the pirate-chiefs.
Blackbeard had given his opinion, in which the lieutenants
all concurred: and there was no consultation necessary
when they reappeared on deck.

“The terrible chief, closely followed by his new wife, the girl
of Pamplico, confronted the group of captives in all his terrors
of aspect, costume, and furious speech. His wife was scarcely
less a terror in the eyes of our young French creole woman.
She was habited only in part like a woman. She wore a skirt,
it is true, but the pantaloons of a man appeared beneath, and
she wore a sort of undress uniform frock-coat covered with rows
of massive golden buttons. On her shoulders were heavy epaulets;
on her head a dashing cap of fur, with a feather. Her
belt contained pistols, and a middy's dirk with glittering handle.
She lacked nothing but a heavy mustache to make her as terrible
in the eyes of the young French husband as in those of his
wife. To make the portrait more revolting, we must add that
her face was reddened and bloated with free use of the wine cup,
and her eyes fiery, yet moist, from the same unnatural practice.
The rest of the pirates need not be described. It will suffice to
say, that in their costume and equipment nothing had been
omitted which might exaggerate to the mind of the captives, the
terrible character of the profession they pursued.

“The pirate-chief addressed the captain of the Frenchman
with words of blood and thunder. The latter answered with
words of weakness and submission. The former without scruple
declared the only alternative to death which he allowed.

“`Are you prepared to join us against the world? We are
free men of the seas. We are of no nation. We own no laws
except those of our own making. Swear to obey our laws, join
our crews, sail under the black flag and the bloody head, and
take your share with us, of the cargo of your ship!'

“A dead silence answered him.

“`Swear!' and the black flag was waved before their faces.

“`Will my lord pardon us?' answered the captain for the
rest. `Will my lord take what we have and suffer us to go in
peace? I only plead that our lives may be spared.'

“`Your lives are our deaths, unless you join with us. You
have five minutes for deliberation. Swear, by the black flag,—
kiss the bloody head, and, on your knees, take the oath, or you
walk the plank every mother's son of you.'

“A dead silence again followed. Meanwhile, the creole wife,
crouching in the rear of her husband, who stood immediately
behind the captain, involuntarily took from her bosom the cross
of black ebony, and, sinking silently upon her knees, pressed it
to her lips, while they parted, in unuttered prayers to Heaven.

“The movement did not escape the ruffian. He was now reminded
of the woman whom he had sent up from below. In the
dim light of the cabin, he had not distinguished her features. A
single glance now sufficed to show him their loveliness.

“`Ha!' he exclaimed — `who have we here?' and passing
rapidly through the group of captives he seized her where she
knelt. With a shriek she held up the cross. He tore it from
her hand, looked at it but an instant, then dashed it to the
deck, and crushed it under his feet — accompanying the profane
act with a horrid oath. The captain of the Frenchman groaned
aloud. The pirate-chief still held his grasp upon the lady. She
struggled to free herself, and cried out: —

“`Save me, husband!'

“The appeal was irresistible. Desperate as was the attempt,
the young French merchant, drawing forth a pistol concealed in
his bosom, levelled it at the head of the pirate and drew the

trigger. The bullet only ruffled the monstrous whisker of the
ruffian. It had been aimed well, but, in the moment when the
trigger was pulled, the arm of the young merchant had been
struck up by one of the nearest pirates. Baffled in the desperate
deed, the merchant dashed upon Blackbeard with the famishing
cry of the panther striving for her young; and strove, with more
certain dagger, to mend the failure of his first attempt. But he
might as well have cast his slight form against the bulk of a
mountain. His blow was thrown upward, the stroke parried,
and he himself stricken down with a blow from the butt of a
carbine, which covered his head and face instantly with blood.

“`My husband! oh! my husband!' cried the wretched
woman, now seeking again to break away from that iron grasp
which never once relaxed its hold upon her. In vain.

“`Fling the carrion overboard. Sharks are not made to go
hungry.'

“He was remorselessly obeyed; and, partly stunned, but conscious,
Louis Chastaign was lifted in half a dozen stalwart arms,
and thrust over into the yawning sea. Then the wife broke
away; — but, ere she reached the side of the vessel, she was
again in the grasp of the ruffian. She never saw her husband
more. His head appeared but a moment upon the surface — his
hands were thrown upward, then his shriek was heard — a single
piercing shriek of agony; and when the French captain looked
upon the sea, it was colored with blood, and he could perceive
the white sides of the glancing sharks, a dozen of them, as they
were tugging, below the surface, at their living victim!

3. III.

There are some scenes which art does not attempt to delineate
— some agonies which baffle the powers of imagination. Such
was the terrible, though momentary, horror and agony, of the
wretched wife of the young merchant. In such cases, Nature
herself seems to acknowledge the same necessities with art, —
acknowledges her own incapacity to endure, what art lacks the
power to delineate; and interposes a partial death, to spare to the
victim the tortures of a horrid dying. Pauline Chastaign swooned
and lay unconscious upon the deck.

Meanwhile, the miserable captives stood silent, incapable, paralyzed
with their own terrors at the dreadful tragedy which had
been so suddenly conceived, and so rapidly hurried to its catastrophe.
The French captain shrugged his shoulders and prepared
for his own fate.

“`You have seen!' said Blackbeard addressing him and the
rest. `Trample on these colors'— pointing to the flag of the
Lily; which had been torn down and thrown upon the deck;—
`spit upon that cross!'—that of poor Pauline Chastaign, which
lay half crushed before them; — `and swear on the bloody head
obedience to the laws of the `Brothers of the Coast!'— such was
the name which the pirate fraternity bore among themselves;—
`or you share the fate of that young fool, and find the sharks
their supper this very night. Speak! You!'— addressing the
captain of the Frenchman.

The days of Rousseau, Voltaire, and Robespierre, had not yet
dawned. The Frenchman had not yet prepared to spit on
Christ, and substitute himself for God! Our captain knew his
fate, and was prepared for it. He took the broken cross reverently,
and kissed it, then, with a faint smile, he politely bowed
to the pirate-chief — in these gestures according his only answer.

“`To the plank with him!' was the command of Blackbeard
in a voice of thunder. A dozen unscrupulous ruffians seized
upon the Frenchman to hurry him to his doom. Then, for the
first time, the rest of the crew seemed to awaken to a sense of
desperation, as by a common instinct. With a wild cry they
rushed upon the pirates, striking right and left with muscular
arms, and all the reckless violence of despairing nature! Unhappily,
the timid policy of their captain had denied them weapons.
They had nothing upon which to rely but their own
sinews; nevertheless, so sudden, so unlooked for was the assault,
that the pirates bearing the captain, were overborne; he
rescued; and, with a cheer, they all together darted again upon
the foe, picking up knife or cutlass where they might. Alas!
the brave effort but shortened the pang of dying. A new flood
of ruffians from the pirate vessel poured in upon them, and finished
the struggle in a few moments; but Blackbeard himself,
meanwhile, had been wounded with a knife, and his smart rendered
him less than ever disposed to mercy. Maimed, slain, or

only wounded, the captives were all hurried into the deep;— but
one male being suffered to survive — a poor cabin-boy who, in
the last moment, grappled the knees of Blackbeard, swore allegiance
to his authority, and was admitted to mercy!

4. IV.

“But one captive remained living in the hands of the pirates.
This was the young wife of the unhappy merchant, poor Pauline
Chastaign. She had been taken to the cabin in her swoon, and
had been laid, with a certain degree of tenderness, which had
given no satisfaction to the girl of Pamplico, upon the couch of
that Amazon. It was with a curious interest, which still further
displeased that person, that Blackbeard hung over the unconscious
woman, and scanned the beauties of her face and figure.
His second officer and himself conferred upon her fate together,
in the hearing of the wife of the latter — the thirteenth wife, as
you will remember. The conversation was not of a sort to
gratify her. She had no small portion of the green infusion in
her system against the indulgence of which Iago counsels
Othello, and the eager appetite, speaking in the eyes of Blackbeard,
warned her of her own danger from a superior rival. The
lieutenant of the pirate had his passions also. He boldly preferred
his claim as custodian of the young widow.

“`You!' answered the chief. `You?'

“`And why not me?' was the reply in a tone approaching
defiance.

The pistol of Blackbeard was at his head in a moment and, with
a horrid oath, he ordered the other on deck and to his duties.
The lieutenant slowly, and with a growl, submitted. When he
had gone, the girl of Pamplico interposed with the same question
which had been uttered by the lieutenant.

“`And why not he? Why should he not have this thing?'

“`Because it does not please me that he should, my beauty!'

“`And why should it not please you?'

“`I prefer that the woman should keep my cabin for a while.'

“`Ha! and what of me?'

“`You! ah? You may go to his cabin for a while.'

“`What! You fling me off, do you, for this bloodless creature!

And such as she is to pass between us? That shall never
be. Don't think that I am a thing of milk and water, without
strength or courage. No! you shall see that I have blood, and
that I can take it too! I'm not afraid of your black looks and
thundering oaths. No! indeed! You are mine; and while I am
yours, I shall see that no living woman shall pass between us.
You would fling me off, and quarrel with your best officer for this
rag of a woman, would you. But you shall not!'

“With the words, quick as lightning, the unsexed creature
shot round the little table that stood between herself and the
seemingly insensible wife of the young Frenchman, her dirk
flourishing in her grasp directly before the eyes of Blackbeard.
She had rounded the table, and occupied a place between him and
the threatened victim, before he could possibly conceive her purpose,
and heave up his huge bulk from where he lay, to interpose
for the prevention of the mischief. He roared out a terrible
threat and horrid oath, but the Amazon never heeded a
syllable, and the poor captive would have sunk beneath her
dagger-stroke, but for the fact that, while the dispute was in
progress between Blackbeard, his lieutenant, and the girl from
Pamplico, the captive lady was slowly coming to her senses, and
understood it all. She saw the movement of her wild assailant,
and darting up from where she lay, gave one piercing scream,
and rushed up the cabin steps to the deck, closely followed by
the Amazon and the pirate-chief. They reached the deck only
to behold the white flash of a glancing form as it shot over the
side of the vessel, and to hear a single plunge into the gulfing
billows of the sea. When they looked over the bulwarks, there
was nothing to be seen. The wife of the young merchant had
joined him in the deep.

“`It is just as well!' growled Blackbeard, turning away. `It
prevents mischief! Ha! you young devil!' he continued, throwing
his arms about the neck of the she-demon who stood confronting
him, `you are a girl after my own heart; but if I served
you rightly, I should pitch you over after her. No more of this.
Do you hear! Another such piece of meddling, and I shall
slash this pretty throat with a sharp dagger. Do you hear!'

“She laughed impudently and returned his caresses, and the
deadly vessel went on her midnight course.

5. V.

“Such was the true history of the captured Frenchman, whom
our pirate-chief persuaded the court of admiralty to adjudge to
him as a vessel picked up at sea, abandoned by its proper owners.
Blackbeard was soon at sea again. He was even more
successful in the results of his next cruise; gathering Spanish
gold, ingots, and jewels of great value, and treasures equally of
east and west. But he carried in no more vessels for the jurisdiction
of the courts. He employed the shorter processes of
firing and scuttling. He seldom found any prisoners. He kept
none. The sea locked up his secrets — for a time at least; and
his cruise was a long one in proportion to its successes.

“But news reached him of a suspicious character. He heard
rumors of ships-of-war preparing to search for pirates. He was
advised from North Carolina, that his own virtues were not beyond
suspicion, and that, somehow, certain rumors had reached
Virginia affecting his securities. It became necessary to hide
away the treasures already procured, before again venturing
within the waters of Cape Fear and Ocracocke. He must
cleanse the aspect of his craft, so that she should be able to endure
examination as a fair trader, and secure the bloody spoils
of previous ventures, beyond the grasp of law and civilization.
We all know how common was the practice among the pirates
of establishing hoards in unfrequented places. All these islets,
according to tradition, from the capes of Virginia to that of Florida
conceals some buried treasure. On this occasion our pirates
put into Bull's bay, the avenues to which they well knew. In
this region, they selected a spot, either on Bull's island, or Long,
or some one of the islands immediately contiguous — all of which
were then uninhabited — in which to hide their treasures. Here,
at midnight, they assembled. The hole was dug in the earth.
The pirates all gathered around it. They bore the glittering
piles — in kegs, boxes, sacks, jars. They saw them all deposited.
Then they clasped hands, and each swore, severally repeating
the horrid oath which Blackbeard dictated.

“There was a pause. The rites were yet unfinished. The
hole remained opened. Something was yet to be done, according

to which alone, in the superstitions of the pirates, could the
treasure be securely kept. Meanwhile, there had been voices
crying to them from the woods. The devil had been adjured
by the terrible chief of the crew, and he had answered with awful
sounds from a neighboring thicket. They could, most of
them, believe in a devil, and tremble, where they tacitly renounced
all faith in a God. Of course, this mummery had been
devised by the cunning for the especial benefit of the ignorant.
They had imprecated a horrid destiny upon their souls, in the
event of their fraud or infidelity to their comrades, and the audible
answers of the fiend declared their oaths to be registered in
hell. Such was a part of the scheme by which the pirates
bound each other to forbearance, and for the common security
of their hidden treasures.

“But something more was necessary to the completion of these
horrid rites. There was a needed sacrifice which murder always
found it necessary to provide for superstition. But this portion
of the ceremony was, of course, a mystery to all those whom the
pirates had lately incorporated among their crews from among
the captives they had taken.

“`And now that we have all secure, brothers of the coast, it
still needs that one of us should remain to watch the treasure
till our present cruise is over. Food he shall have in abundance,
drink, and shelter. A boat shall be left for him with
which to fish, and weapons with which to procure game of the
woods and wild fowl along the shore. It must be a willing
mind that must undertake this watch. Who volunteers? Let
him speak boldly, like a man.'

“An eager voice answered —

“`I will remain and watch the treasure!'

“It was that of the poor cabin-boy, the sole survivor of the
French merchantman. The trembling creature had shuddered
with daily and nightly horrors since the hour of his captivity.
He eagerly seized the present opportunity of escape from an association
the terrors of which oppressed his soul. Blackbeard
looked at him grimly, and with a dreadful smile. He saw
through the wretched boy, and readily conjectured all his hopes.
They were those of all who had ever consented to watch the
treasure. But it did not matter to the pirate's object whether

the volunteer were honest or not. It was enough that he should
volunteer. According to their laws none could be compelled to
take this watch; and it was one of the secret tests, that of the
volunteer, by which to discover who, of the crew, were in secret
disloyal, and likely to prove treacherous.

“`You!' repeated Blackbeard. `You, then, willingly choose
to remain and keep watch over the treasure?'

“`I do!'

“`Then remain, and see that you watch well!'

“And, with the words, lifting the pistol which, all the while,
had been secretly prepared in his grasp, he shot the wretched
boy through the head. So sudden was the movement, that the
miserable victim was scarcely conscious of his danger a single
moment, before the bullet was crashing through his brains. He
fell into the hole above the treasure, and the earth was shoveled
in upon the victim and the spoils he had probably fancied he
should be able to bear away.

“`There — see that you keep good watch, good fellow!'

“A wild howl of demoniac joy from the adjacent covert startled
the superstitious of the crew. The sacrifice to the fiend in
waiting had been graciously accepted; and a tacit pledge was
thus given by the demon that, with his aid, the treasure should
be kept safely by the vigilant spectre of the victim.

6. VI.

“The horrid orgies which succeeded to this murder, among the
pirates, that night — their dance of maniac frenzy over the grave
of their victim, and upon the spot of earth which concealed their
buried deposite — exceeds the possibility of description, as it
would be greatly offensive to propriety were we to describe it.
They drank, they danced, they sang, they swore, they howled,
they fought; and it was long after dawn of the day following
before they proved able to return to their vessel, which lay at
easy anchorage a short distance from the shore. Before leaving
the island, they had obscured with trampling, then with turf
and leaves, all external signs of the burial which they had
made. The orgies of drunkenness which followed had served
still more effectually to obliterate from the memories of most of

them the impressions of the locality which they had gathered
from the scene. It was with this policy that their more cunning
chiefs had encouraged their bestial debauchery and excess.
They, however (the former), had taken the precaution to establish
certain guide-marks to the spot which nothing could obliterate.
The extended branch of one tree was a pointer to the
place; the blaze of another was made to bear a certain relation
also to the spot, and so many paces east from the one, and so
many paces west from the other, intersecting with a third line
drawn from the position of another bough, or tree, or blaze, and
the point of junction of the three was that under which the
treasures lay. We are not required here to be more precise in
its delineation.

“Their work done effectually, as usual, and our pirates all
pretty well sobered, they sailed away upon another cruise, the
fortunes of which we need not recount. But this time they
were not long at sea. After awhile they returned to the waters
of North Carolina, and gave themselves up to a week of riot in
Pamplico.

“But, along with the evil deed are born always three other
parties — the accuser, the witness, and the avenger! It is now
difficult to say by what means the later crimes of Blackbeard
became known. He had certainly obliterated all his own tracks
of blood, almost as soon as he had made them. Still, these
tracks had been found and followed, though covered up with
earth and sea: as if the accuser and the avenger were endowed
with a peculiar faculty, such as, in the case of the hound, enables
him to detect the odor of blood even through the mould.
Blackbeard, with the instinct of guilt, was soon aware that a
secret enemy was dogging at his heels.

“So it was.

“There had suddenly appeared a stranger at Pamplico, who
threw himself more than once in the way of Blackbeard's last
wife, the Amazon. He was a fine-looking young fellow, of
martial carriage, wearing the loose shirt of the Virginian hunter,
carrying a rifle, and followed by a dog. He was tall, erect, and
very powerfully built. There was a laughing mischief in his
eye, a sly, seductive humor upon his tongue, and a general
something in his free, dashing, and buoyant manner, which is

apt to be rather pleasing to the women. At all events, the
stranger found favor in the sight of the girl of Pamplico,
and she invited him to her cabin — but without Blackbeard's
knowledge.

“The stranger did not hesitate to accept the invitation; but he
took care to visit the woman only when he knew that the pirate-chief
was present. The girl was a little dashed when he suddenly
pushed open the door of the dwelling, and stood in his
forest-costume before the parties. With an oath, Blackbeard
demanded for what he came. The stranger had his answer
ready. He had peltry for sale — several packs — and he wished
to barter it for powder and ball. Regarding the pirate only in
his shore character, as a fair trader, there was nothing in the
visit to occasion surprise.

“Blackbeard regarded the stranger with eyes of curious
admiration. He observed with delight the magnificent proportions
of the hunter.

“`You are a big fellow,' said he — `strong as a horse, no
doubt, and as active as a wild cat.'

“`A match,' was the reply, `for any man of my inches.'

“`We'll see that!' exclaimed the pirate, suddenly rising and
grappling with the stranger in a friendly wrestle. The muscular
and bulky forms of the two rocked to and fro, breast to
breast for awhile, until, by an extra exertion of strength, the
hunter laid the outlaw on his back. The latter was nowise
ruffled.

“`You don't look the man to do it,' said he, `but it was well
done. You're a man, every inch of you. Have you ever been
upon the sea? That's the field for such a man as you. Come!
what say you to a v'yage with me? Good pay, good liquor,
and fine girls.'

“Here the pirate winked at his wife, and pointed her out to
the stranger. The latter seemed disposed to entertain the
project. Blackbeard became earnest. He was anxious to increase
the number of his marines, and he held out liberal promises
and prospects to our hunter — but without suffering him to
suppose that his vocation at sea was anything but honest. In
those days, the fair traders required something of a warlike
armament for defence, and usually had it to a certain extent.

“Our hunter offered only such objections as were easy to
overcome; and the result of the conference was an arrangement
between the parties to meet the next day on board of Blackbeard's
vessel, when they should come to a more definite understanding;
our hunter only insisting upon seeing the sort of
world to which he was to be introduced, and the accommodations
and the fare designed for him. This understood, they
separated for the night — the stranger refusing to drink or eat
with the pirate, much to the latter's annoyance. How much
more would this annoyance have been increased, had he known
how tender was the squeeze of the hand which, at parting, the
girl of Pamplico had bestowed upon their guest!

“`With such a chap as that to lead the boarders, and I shall
sweep every deck that ever showed it's teeth,' said Blackbeard
when the stranger had gone.

“`All's well so far!' quoth the latter, as he passed from hearing
of the cabin. `All's well. To-morrow! to-morrow.'

“With the morrow the parties again met, and Blackbeard's
welcome was singularly cordial. He took the hunter on board
his vessel, showed him her appointments, her strength, and dilated
upon the profit of the trade he carried on. The stranger
looked about him, noted well what he saw, took particular heed
of the pirate guns and sailors, — their number, their character;
yet pursued his watch so casually as to occasion no suspicion.
He was pleased with everything, and only forebore to drink, to
eat, or to make any positive engagement, as before. He left
all things in a fair way for arrangement; but it needed that he
should bring in his peltry and secure his various hunter effects,
in his distant foreign home.

“`We shall meet in seven days!'

“`Be sure of it,' answered the other, `for in ten I must prepare
to be at sea. But, by the way, you haven't in all this time told
me your name, or I've forgot it.'

“`Well, when I go to sea, I must get a name. To confess
to you a truth, the one I have borne, is rather in bad reputation.'

“`Ah! ha! I see then why you are here. You've been using
your rifle on meaner brutes than buck and bear. Well! I don't
think the worse of you for that. But give yourself a name that
we may swear by.'

“`Or at! well, as I am to be a sailor, I'll take my name from
the ship. Call me Mainyard, for lack of anything better.'

“So they parted.

“`Mainyard! Mainyard!' muttered Blackbeard to himself.
`Where have I heard a name like that only a day or two ago!
It was from that bloody booby, Coleman. There's something
about the name that — pshaw! what an ass I am! as if there
should be anything strange to a sailor's ear in such a name.
Yet, there is something!'

“And with a vague memory of — he knew not what, — running
in his mind, Blackbeard felt mystified and curious for a
good hour after the departure of the Hunter. Had he not been
half drunk and very furious when Coleman brought his story to
his ears, his doubts would have assumed a more definite form,
and might have led to other results than followed his oblivion.

“Meanwhile the hunter had disappeared. What follows, almost
literally drawn from history, may serve to put into your
hands the clue which was all tangled in those of the maudlin
pirate.

7. VII.

“Blackbeard, as the fair trader, Edward Teach, had provoked
the hostility of the planters in and about Pamplico. The stranger
hunter had been among them before he sought the pirate.
He had gathered all their evidence, had learned, like them, to
distrust the justice of the ruling authorities of North Carolina in
their dealings with the pirates, and had secretly sought the succor
of the government of Virginia. Governor Spotswood had
used his influence with the British commodore on the Virginia
station to employ an adequate force for the capture of Blackbeard.
For the command of this enterprise a volunteer had been found,
in the person of one Robert Maynard, a Virginian, but a lieutenant
in the royal navy. To catch Blackbeard was no easy
matter; and Maynard found it advisable to make himself personally
acquainted with the force of the pirates, his place of harborage,
and to plan, on the spot itself, his mode of operations.
We have seen the progress which he has made, thus far, in the
character of the Virginian hunter.

“While he thus employed himself two sloops were got in

readiness with equal secrecy and expedition. Blackbeard, as
we have seen, was not left unapprized of his danger. But, in his
debauch, he had made light of the intelligence, and moreover, it
was not thought by those who bore the tidings that the expedition
would have such early despatch. In those days enterprises
were undertaken as pilgrimages, with great deliberation,
the adventurer stopping to get himself well shod, to provide
himself with a select staff, and, only after protracted meditation
and perhaps devotions, to take the field. The enterprise of
young Maynard proved an exception to the common practice,
and his sloops were ready to go to sea, while he was discussing
with Blackbeard the preliminaries and the profit of future voyages
which they might take together.

“Beginning thus vigorously, Maynard did not relax in his exertions.
His sloops left James river on the 17th November, 1718.
When fairly at sea, he broke the enterprise to his followers, all
of whom were picked men. He read to them the proclamation
of Governor Spotswood, offering a reward of £100 for the apprehension
of Blackbeard, £15 for every officer, and £10 for
every common sailor made captive with him. The proclamation
was received with three hearty cheers, and all parties braced
themselves up for the conflict which, it was very well understood,
would be anything but child's play. On the 21st of November,
Maynard passed the bar of Ocracocke, and rapidly drew
near to the pirate. At this period, his force was small, consisting
of twenty-five men; the rest were at sea, with his other vessel,
under the command of Vaughan and other lieutenants.

“Blackbeard was taken by surprise. He certainly would
never have waited at his anchorage and with so small a force,
had he dreamed of his enemy's approach so soon. In truth, he
had been waiting for his hunter, Mainyard,— whom he looked to
supply the place of his captain of marines, one Hornsby, who
was very sick on shore, and not expected to recover. He did
recover, as we shall see hereafter, but not in season to take part
in the conflict.

“Though thus caught napping, Blackbeard was a man of resources,
and prepared himself for defence. Maynard standing
directly for the pirate, received his fire which was delivered with
terrible effect. Unfortunately, his own vessel run aground, in

the shallow water of the river, and this increased the odds against
him. Before he could extricate himself, he had lost twenty of
his men, and the pirate prepared to board him. Seeing this,
Maynard hurried his men below, with orders to keep ready for
the hand-to-hand conflict which was impending. Blackbeard
bore down upon him, threw in his granades, and, seeing the decks
bare of all but the slain and wounded, he boarded without hesitation.
Then Maynard rushed upon deck, followed by his crew,
and they fell together upon the assailants. Maynard's costume,
on this occasion, was that in which he had made the pirate's acquaintance.
Blackbeard knew him at a glance.

“`Ha! traitor! Ha! villain!' he cried as the young lieutenant
confronted him; and with the words both of them fired. Then
they closed with their dirks. Blackbeard was now reminded of
the wrestle they had had together, and the recollection made him
desperate. It was ominous of the result in the present contest.
He was overmatched, and slashed almost to pieces, but fighting
to the last, he fell at the feet of his conqueror, who immediately
smote off his head with his cutlass, and lifted it, all reeking and
streaming with blood, in the sight of the remaining pirates. As
the black and bloody mass, with its wilderness of beard was
raised on high, the horrid eyes glaring, and glazing even as
they glared, the spectacle overwhelmed the pirate-crew. They
threw down their weapons, such as still survived the combat, and
were ironed on the spot. The capture of the pirate-vessel followed,
but had nearly proved a fatal conquest; since a desperate
negro stood over the magazine, stationed there by Blackbeard's
orders, with a blazing match, prepared to apply it at a given
signal. It was only when the gory head of his master was
thrust before his eyes, that he consented to resign his torch and
leave his perilous duty unattempted. The victory of Maynard was
complete, and he sailed up to the town of Bath, and finally returned
to James river, with the head of the pirate, in terrorem,
hanging at the bowsprit of his vessel.”