A SEA-FIGHT WITH THE PORTUGALS – Corsairs & Captives

This week, we’re going to deal with something a little different.

Technically, Barbary corsairs were privateers, but essentially, they were pirates. Like all pirates, they practiced a violent profession, both on land and at sea.

This week’s post presents a first-hand account of a sea battle. The battle doesn’t involve Barbary corsairs (hence my beginning this by saying we’ll be dealing with something a little different), but it does provide a vivid sense of what a battle at sea was like in the early decades of the seventeenth century.

First, some background.

On February 3, 1615, six modest-sized ships left England for East India. The ships were named the Charles, the Unicorn, the James, the Globe, the Swan, and the Rose. This small Fleet sailed from England to the Canary Islands, then southwards along the west coast of Africa, around the Horn, and northwards up Africa’s east coast, arriving just north of Madagascar in August—a six-month journey.

There, in the waters off what are today known as the Comoro Islands (located midway between the northern top of Madagascar and the coast of Mozambique), they encountered a Portuguese carrack. Carracks were the early seventeenth century equivalent of today’s container ships—very large vessels crammed with merchandise—and the Portuguese carrack would have been much bigger than any of the English vessels (see the illustration at the top of this post for a depiction).

One of the captains of the English fleet was a man named Edward Terry, a graduate of Christchurch college at Oxford. Terry wrote an account of his voyage, which includes a description of the confrontation with the Portuguese carrack.

Here is Terry’s account of that confrontation. I have broken it into two parts: Part One this week, Part Two next week. (Also, as is typically the case here in this blog, I have slightly abridged and lightly edited the original seventeenth century text to make it more accessible.)

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On the twenty-second of July, we discovered the great land of Madagascar, commonly called Saint Laurence, we being then between it and the mainland [i.e., east Africa]. We did not land, and instead proceeded on our course. On the fifth of August, we came near to the little islands of Mohilia, Gazidia, and Saint John de Castro, called the islands of Comoro, lying about twelve degrees southward of the equator.

Early in the morning, the sixth, our men, looking out for land, spied a sail directly before us about three or four leagues off. About noon, the Globe, our smallest and nimblest ship, and a better sailer than her fellows, came up to this ship [the Portuguese carrack] on the broad side to windward, and, according to the custom of the sea, hailed her, asking from whence she came.

She answered indirectly: saying “Of the sea,” and then began calling our men rogues, thieves, heretics, and devils.

The conclusion of her rude complement was in loud canon language, discharging seven great pieces of artillery at our Globe, of which six pierced her through the hull, maiming some of her men, but killing none. Our Globe replied in the same voice, and after that, sailed off…

The Charles (our Admiral) then came up with her so that we were within pistol shot. Our Commander, Captain Joseph, at first proceeded religiously, offering a truce before he thought of revenge. So we saluted her with our trumpets, and she us with her wind instruments. Then we showed our men on both sides aloft. This being done, Captain Joseph called to them, demanding that their principal Commander might come aboard to give an account for the injury they had lately offered us, when the Commander of the carrack had offered violence to our ship, which had only sailed peaceably by him.

Captain Joseph willed the carrack’s Captain to come speedily, and give reason for that wrong or else, at his peril, suffer the consequences…

The Captain of the carrack (notwithstanding all this) was dismissive in his response. So Captain Joseph himself made the three first shots, which surely did them great harm, as we perceived by the loud outcry we heard from them.

This done, the Bullets began to fly on both sides.

Our Captain, cheering bis company, ascended the half deck, where he had not been the eighth part of an hour when a great shot from the carrack’s quarter deprived him of his life in the twinkling of an eye.

It hit him on the breast, beating out of his body his heart and other of his vitals, which lay round about him scattered in his diffused blood. After Captain Joseph was slain, the Master of our ship continued the fight for about half an hour. Then knowing that there was another to be admitted into that prime place of command, and with night approaching, for that time, he gave over.

Putting up a Flag of Council, he called the Captain of the Vice-Admiral (Captain Henry Pepwell) who was to succeed, and the other Masters aboard to consult about the prosecution of this encounter.

The night being come, we now proceeded no further. The carrack stood still on her course, putting forth a light at her poop for us to follow her, and about midnight came to an anchor near the Island of Mobilia. Seeing this, we too let fall our anchors.

The next day, the seventh, before dawn, we prepared for a new assault, first commending ourselves to God by prayer.

The morning come, we found the carrack so close to the shore, and the nearest of our ships at the least a league off, that we held our hands for that day, expecting that she would weigh her anchors and stand off to sea (a fitter place to deal with her).

A little before night, the carrack departed to sea.

We all loosed our anchors, unfurled our sails, and followed. The day now left us, and our proud enemy (disdaining, it would seem, to attempt escape) put forth a light as before, for us to follow him, which we did.

At length, the night nearly spent, we commended again ourselves and cause to God. This done, the day appeared in a red mantle, which proved bloody unto many that beheld it.

And now our four ships were resolved to take their turns, one after the other, so that they forced this proud Portugal either to bend or break.

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For the second part of A Sea-Fight with the Portugals, see the next post here in this blog.