THE PERILS OF THE SEA – PART 1

The early seventeenth century was dangerous time to be out at sea, particularly in the Mediterranean, which was infested with Barbary pirates.

Not every ship was attacked, of course, and a fair number of merchant ships completed their voyages safely. Some did not, though. Mostly, it was a matter of luck.

This week, we begin a series of posts about one of the unlucky ones: an English merchant ship named the Charitie. In the spring of 1609, the Charitie left Italy, where they had been trading, and set sail for England. They joined with another ship, the Pearl, to form a small convoy. Their voyage began well… but then their luck changed.

The captain of the Charitie wrote a long letter to his employers describing what happened. Here is the first installment of that letter.

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The 15^th of March last, we put out of the road of Ancona [in Italy] and, having a fair and prosperous wind, we quickly cleared the mouth of the Gulf and presently met Mister Lewes, of Limehouse, in the Pearl, with whom, for the safety of all (and rejoicing in each other’s company), we decided to convoy together. We had a flattering wind that never forsake us until we anchored safe at Cartagena [Spain]. We had run in 15 days almost 500 leagues with a Levant, which is what they name it when the wind is from the northeast (when it blows from the southeast, they call it a Ponant).

This prosperous and promising passage was by all of us accounted to be of great advantage. But it is a saying no less common the commonly proved true, that many things happen between the cup and the lip. Man purposes and God disposes. He who trusts himself to fortune is most vulnerable to falling into the tempest of ruin. For when good hope, health, and wealth are at the highest, and the glorious morning sun is up early to awaken us with the promise of a delightful day, yet even then, by the overcharging of the clouds, the day is overcast, and our expectation frustrated.

And so it was with us. For having got this fair wind all the way to Cartagena, after we left that city, we now found the wind began to be duller and then calmed entirely. Shortly after that, it chopped up westerly (which was against us). We struggle on as best we could and as the wind would give us leave.

That day was the third of April. At length we descried three ships. Within two hours, they were upon us (we made no attempt at evasion, for as yet we had no cause to mistrust them). They first approached our consort, the Pearl, and made them strike their sails. But we, being of better swiftness (and having seen what they offered), gave our vessel all the sail we could. But to a bootless purpose. For after a long chase, they came upon us also and called aloud to us, bidding us yield to the great Turk, their master. We answered that we were Englishmen and Christians, and that whilst we had either power or ability to resist, we would not yield up our freedom to any pagan breathing.

Of all things, that which we least expected (seeing that they who hailed us were Turks) was that Christians, and our countrymen, should be aboard those ships doing service amongst the Infidels. Yet it proved so, for  the sailors and seafaring men aboard those three ships—the Admiral, the Vice-Admiral, and the Rear-Admiral—were all of them Englishmen, and all or most of them known to our Master, Mister Daniel Banister, or to divers of our company.

Their Rear-Admiral most sternly told us that if we would not presently strike our topsail, thereby showing our yielding was immediate, they would board us directly and as readily sink us.

We were as resolute to repel as our enemies were ready to offend, and we boldly answered them that if they wished to attempt to board us, we willed them to come on, for we were fitted to bid them a warm welcome, and such a hot entertainment should they find as all the water that bare them should hardly bring them into a cool temper again. We were then indeed purposely minded (finding little comfort in resistance and no assurance of escape) to burn ourselves and them together.

Understanding our intent by the boldness of our answer, they surrounded on every side and made preparation to fight and at length to sink us with their ordinance [cannons], being so well enabled for such a deadly purpose, as are all such Turkish pirates.

We, seeing them so ready for the encounter, neglected nothing of the strength we had to fortify ourselves for defense. Some of us managing all things fitly beneath, whilst that others manned all things readily about. Every man of us made his soul fit for heaven and consigned his body to a watery grave. So we completed all preparation we could, though having in truth little but faithfulness and courage to withstand them. They, like a violent sea, made ready to beat against an unfortified shore, where the weakest must by force be overthrown.

But as they were ready to call upon us in fire, and we as ready to make answer in flame, there came voices crying out.

Aboard their ships were diverse Englishmen (whom they had taken before) imprisoned in chains like slaves and condemned to perpetual slavery. In pity for us, with tears in their eyes, which shewed they had sorrow in their hearts, they cried aloud to us (especially to our Master, Mister Banister, by name) that if we had a desire to see our country again, if we had parents to mourn for their sons, wives to lament for their husbands, or children to cry out for their fathers, not to shoot so much as the voice of one small shot against them. For if we did, our sentence would be such as theirs: perpetual thralldom.

For this was a decree amongst them (which they had established should stand irreducible): that whatever Christian so ever they met (be he of what Country so ever) if he submitted not upon the first summons, or durst be so hardy as to outdare them, if he were taken, he should die a slave, and if not taken, they would sink him in the sea.

“For our parts,” quoth they, “we have had our sentence. We do feel the affliction. We can hope for no release. But you are our countrymen. We admonish you as brothers. We have withstood them (as you may do), which hath brought us into slavery, as you shall be. Be advised then, before you fall, and seek to save yourselves before you perish.

“If you think it unnecessary to be advised by our admonition, or your resolution be such as to prefer an honorable death before a dishonorable peace, then fight it out bravely while you have any refuge of life or your ship hath any safety. But death is the surest task that you now have in hand.”

For the second installment of the Charitie’s woes, see The Perils of the Sea – Part 2 here in this blog.

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For those who may be interested…

The letter written by the Charitie’s captain can be found in a pamphlet titled News from Sea of two notorious Pyrates, Ward the Englishman, and Danseker the Dutchman, with a True Relation of all or the Most Piracies by them Committed unto the sixth of April, 1609,  published around 1609 and attributed to a pamphleteer named  Anthony Nixon (the pamphlet has no page numbers).  I have edited and lightly abridge the original text to make it more accessible.