An Inception of Piracy chapter 12

A vicious early nor’easter hit the two ships just as they dropped anchor in Boston harbor, delaying their departure ashore for several days. The short choppy seas and the odd motion of the ship in the storm made several of the pirates violently sick, adding to the stench below. They had not been allowed to leave the fo’c’sle for almost a week and were wallowing in their own filth. There was little talk among them, each uncertain about his fate, making what peace he could if he felt it certain. Several of the men who had been with Wolridge a while believed governor Dudley was a friend of his and rarely sent pirates to the gallows, he was profiting too much from the trade. As men will, most embraced this hope wholeheartedly, for it made their confinement a little easier to endure.

Finally, the hatch above opened, allowing in the first fresh air in a week. A uniformed officer came down, handkerchief over his nose.

“My God!” he exclaimed. Then he shouted up the hatch, “Bring some water and wash down these men and this place!” He exited without saying another word and soon a hose was snaked below, the pumps manned and the frigid harbor water began cleaning men and deck, the putrid runoff filling the scuppers. Several marines accompanied the armorer below and they were all put in chains. Once secured, they were brought on deck where Giovanni got his first glimpse of the New World. The harbor was teeming with activity on this crisp fall day, fishing boats sailing about in abundance, several merchant ships docked nearby, launches and jolly boats rowing around on official business. On deck the marines lined both rails as the prisoners were led to the side. Oakes caught his eye. He was sullen and disheveled and they had taken off his left arm at the elbow. Two other pirates with various injuries that had required medical treatment were with him. They were led into two boats under the watchful eye of the marines in their spotless red coats. It was a silent row to the quay where a group of townspeople had gathered to see the cutthroats arrive to have justice served. As he climbed out of the cutter, Giovanni put his feet on dry land for the first time in over two years. He sighed heavily. He wished it were the harbor in Genoa. He longed for the green hills, the white stone buildings, his father meeting him at the dock. Home. They were quickly formed up into a line, chains clanking, marines on either side. A short, old wisp of a man in a black hat and frock coat joined the procession as they left the dock and headed for what Giovanni guessed was the town jail.

“Repent men,” he began in a rumbling baritone voice. “Repent of thy despicable deeds before thou meet the hangman so God can have mercy on thy soul!”

Repent? For what, thought Giovanni. For being pressed, beaten, shipwrecked, beaten again and kidnapped by pirates?!

“God is merciful and desires no one descend into the fires of hell no matter how evil!” Several of the townspeople following the impromptu parade shouted “Amen!” The preacher continued, encouraged by the responses from his flock. “Look at the example of the tax collectors, the soldiers, even the thief on the cross who found mercy as he took his last breath. Thou too can find that mercy! Repent while there is still life in thee, before the hangman puts the noose around thy neck, before it is too late!”

“Shut your trap man!” yelled one of the pirates who was promptly knocked on the head by the marine at his side.

“Oh merciful but terrible God!” the preacher continued. “Shine thy light of truth into the souls of these men, thy children, soften their hard and callous hearts that Thy mercies may fill their lives and they may not burn in the hellfire Thou hast prepared for the devil and his angels! It was not destined for man to receive such a fate but we know that Thy will is perfect and that thieves and murderers will not inherit Thy kingdom. But in Thy wisdom Thou hast prepared a way for Thy sinful creatures to be restored to their glory and bask in Thy light again! Open the hearts and minds of these Thy children, though they be the worst of sinners and reprobates, may they experience Thy mercies. Open their eyes to Thy light that they no longer live in the darkness!”

The preacher and the people following were nearly hysterical, crying, swaying, and shouting as they followed the men in chains to the jail. Even after they arrived the crowd remained outside in the street, the preacher seeing an opportunity to address his flock and continuing his tirade against sin and wickedness. They were herded into two cells, nine in one and ten in another. The marines left and a clerk came in and looked them over, smiling.

“Spate of bad luck for you. Reliance was on patrol in these waters, Carolina to here, for two years, went back in the spring an’ we haven’t had a warship round here since...until Ruby showed up with you! Ha Ha Ha!”

“Damn you man!” one of them yelled, rushing the bars, the clerk quickly backing away, still smiling.

“Carpenter’s going to start working on the scaffold tomorrow, down by the wharf, haven’t had any pirates to hang in almost a year. Don’t even remember the last fella’s name. Anyway, Governor Dudley’s out of town right now but due back early next week. Trial is set for a week from Thursday, cap’n Halstead of the Ruby don’t want to wait any longer than that. He was quite encouraged, taking you before he even arrived on station, ha, ha. I suppose most of you will be hanged before the next Sabbath.” With that he left, chuckling to himself.

“Oakes, Dudley’s the man Wolridge knew right? He’s not going to hang us right?” It was a nervous Malbon who was whispering to Oakes. As is so often the case, the bully, when confronted with his own demise, becomes a scared child. Oakes didn’t answer. Malbon was insistent. “Oakes, is he the man, do you know him? Are we going to hang or not?”

“I don’t know!” screamed Oakes, holding the stump of his arm, face red. “I never met him, Wolridge always took care of business here. If I get to talk to him, we’ll see what happens. Now turn it up, cut your twaddle!”

Silence fell over the cells, uncertainty having entered the mind of each man once again.

_______________________

My dearest Father,

Oh how I have descended into the deepest kind of hell! Through me, your worthless worm of a son, your name has been sullied with the worst of epitaphs; pirate, murderer and mutineer. I can only assure you with what honor I yet posses that should you hear such things, know they are false, so very false. I have done nothing, I have lifted a hand against no man to find myself in league with such criminals! Oh how my heart breaks with the thought that you should hear such things of me. I know that I have failed you but I have done nothing to bring this dishonor upon our family and upon you. I only hope that the wheels of justice might finally turn in my favor and vindicate me and thereby restore our name. Though I love and miss you terribly and every thought is of you and mother and my return I must think of nothing but my defense and the restoration of our name. I shall fight valiantly as you have taught me though my mind is filled with doubts, not of my innocence but of the capacity of the English for justice.

It is my fondest hope that my next letter will be forwarding the news of my vindication and the restoration of our name as well as the unmitigated joy of our impending reunion. Though I find myself thus, I do hope all of you are well and blessed.

Your loving son,

Giovanni

__________________________

Giovanni was awakened from his slumber by the slamming of a door.

“Dinner men!” Yelled the guard, banging on the bars with a stick.

Giovanni sat up and rubbed his eyes. Two women entered the room, carrying baskets and a pot. One was a squat, older woman with mousy brown and gray hair peeking out from under a bonnet, dressed in simple gray and white. Giovanni’s eyes, and the eyes of all the other men, fell on her companion. She was young, Giovanni thought a few years younger than himself, and exceptionally beautiful. Perfect skin, not pale like most Englishwomen; a woman who worked outdoors, he thought. Of medium height, her supple figure accented by the apron tied about her thin waist, young bosoms evident beneath her dress. But it was her eyes that really caught Giovanni’s attention. Again, not like most Englishwomen. They were slightly almond shaped, dark, mysterious, beautiful.

“Hey men, it’s Banyan Day!”

“Some dinner!”

“An me leavin’ my poodle faking togs back on the ship!”

“Shut it men!” ordered the jailer, hitting one of the arms that had reached through the bars. The pirate howled in pain. “Stay back and get your cups.” The men grumbled, retreating from the bars, chains rattling, to get their tin cups. “Line up!” Each man stood at the front of the cell, extending his cup as the women went down the line and filled each one with a steaming liquid.

“What the hell is this!?” complained one. “We’ve ‘ad nothin’ but bread and Adam’s ale since we was taken. Where’s the rum?!” Several grunted in agreement.

“You wicked, ungrateful men!” stated the older woman forcefully. “The devil’s brew that is! Sober up and repent!”

“Not more preaching!” exclaimed another.

“Quiet!” screamed the jailer, banging his stick against the bars again. “These lovely women from the church came here out of a sense of Christian duty and compassion to give you something other than hard tack and salt pork. If that’s what you want for your last meal, so be it, I’ll send them away!”

“No, no,” stated several of the others meekly, holding out their cups and staring at the floor. Nothing more was said as they worked their way along the line. The young woman came to Giovanni and filled his cup.

“Thank you,” he whispered. She looked up in astonishment, expecting nothing but rude comments or forced civility. But she could tell his gratitude was genuine. Giovanni stared into those dark eyes, black with little flecks of deep blue flickering in the lamplight. There was compassion, certainly, a spark of pride and....sadness. She lowered her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she replied quietly and moved quickly to the next man.

Giovanni watched her for a moment and then backed away from the bars slightly, looking into the cup. It was some kind of thin soup.

“Here!” He looked up to see the jailer shoving a piece of bread at him. He took it and retreated to the corner of the cell. The bread was several days old but it was infinitely better than the hard tack they had been subsisting on. He dipped it in his soup and took a bite as Matthews sat down next to him.

“It’s certainly a treat, eh Giovanni?” His pleasant disposition had returned to some extent although he was more guarded in his optimism than before.

“Yes, it’s very good,” he replied, his mouth full.

“Generous of the church folks, Puritans I think they are, or Congregationalists. There was a small group back in our parish. Not really accepted there, but they never caused any trouble. Seemed like nice folk.”

Giovanni raised his eyebrow. As a Catholic from Genoa, he thought all Protestants were the same. He had no idea there were different groups who may dislike each other.

“Aren’t they Protestants?” he asked.

“Well..” Matthews paused. “I suppose so. They’re not papists, that’s fer sure. I’m not learned in these things, you know Giovanni. I just know the King’s church don’t take kindly to people that do things on their own and that many of them left and came ‘ere..and the other colonies to. I hear that south of ‘ere, there’s even a colony of papists!”

“Really, Catholics in an English colony?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Interesting.”

“Maybe you can go there if we don’t hang,” he whispered.

Giovanni shook his head. “I just want to get back to my family in Genoa.”

Matthews smiled at him. “I want to see mine too.”

Both ate the rest of their dinner in silence, wondering if it would really happen, or if they would be dead within the week.

______________________

The women returned once more before the Sabbath when they were treated to another sermon by the preacher. It must have lasted over two hours. Unlike a battle at sea where one could live or die at any moment, the waiting for what seemed like a certain fate affected them all differently. Thus there were a variety of reactions to the efforts of the preacher. To Giovanni, who was used to the simple ritual of the Mass, the words that continually tumbled out of the preacher’s mouth were shocking. He simply remained in his own thoughts. Harte and Martin were attentive, getting encouragement from the words. One of the pirates, Robert Smith, a big muscular man with a tattoo of a sea monster running up his right arm and around his neck, sat weeping at the bars, moved by the exhortation. Matthews listened, interested more in the comparison with his Anglican upbringing than anything. Malbon, Oakes and Hacker jeered and snickered as much as they could without arousing the ire of the jailer. The rest of them just ignored him. The women brought tea and cakes after it was over. It was the tastiest treat Giovanni had had in a long time. He thanked the young woman again, their eyes meeting, sharing some pain or loss at some level, he thought. There were no words exchanged, there was no time, but he felt some connection. But then again, what did it matter? He could be dead before the week was over.

_________________________

Several days later the usual discussion of their fate was interrupted by a group of soldiers noisily entering the jail.

“Right this way sir,” said the jailer nervously. He entered leading a very well dressed middle aged man. He was of average height with a huge black wig surrounding a long face with a nose to match. His dark eyes quickly looked over the men in the cell.

“Oakes, David Oakes,” he stated, reading from a paper and looking up at the men.

“I’m Oakes,” he stated suspiciously, elbowing his way to the front. The man stepped back among the soldiers as the jailer opened the door.

“Come on man,” the jailer ordered, yanking on the chain connecting his one wrist to his waist as a way of checking it and leading him at the same time. The door clanged shut and they led him to the front room. One of the soldiers remained, mute, opposite the pirates who had gathered along the bars. The place was silent as they strained to hear what was going on in the other room. Chairs were moved, Oakes’ chain rattled.

“You were captain when the Claire was taken?”

“I was,” Oakes replied, the suspicion still evident in his voice. He was sure there was no use denying it at this point.

“What happened to Wolridge?”

“He was killed taking the ship.”

“How unfortunate. Leave us.” This order was followed by the thumping of feet and the slamming of a door. There was silence for a moment.

“Oakes, you’re a damn fool. Wolridge and I had an understanding that obviously did not make it’s way to you. You killed the whole damn crew!”

“They resisted!”

“Shut it!” There was a thud and a groan.

“Now you listen to me. That ship was owned by a very prominent family in this town and crewed by men from this town. They are screaming for your head and the head of every man with you. I may have been able to look the other way before, with Wolridge, he knew his place, showed restraint. But not this time, not with you. The council has been raising their voices as it is and I need to show them something, make an example. You and your men will be that example.” There was the creak of a chair. “Too bad. Had things been different, had you not run into the Claire, we might have been able to work out some arrangement, like I had with Wolridge, but we’ll never know that now, will we? Men!” They heard the door opening, the loud thumping of boots and soon a sullen Oakes was led back to his cell and they were all left alone.

Suddenly Martin rushed the bars.

“I’m not a pirate, I’m not with them, I was forced! They cut off my bloody ear! Do you hear me?! I don’t want to die! I’m not a pirate!” He sank to the floor, sobbing. No one else said a word.

_______________________

On the morning of the trial they were led out of the jail in chains to the Town House, the people of Boston lining the streets as they went. They were assembled in the front, facing the table where the judges would sit. Soldiers took their places directly behind them. The people crowded into the hall, as many as would fit. They were all abuzz with the proceedings, it had been the talk of the town since their arrival. Giovanni felt angry that their fate was entertainment to these people. A man banged a gavel on the table and a door opened to admit those who would be deciding their destiny. A Lieutenant from the Ruby, followed by Captain Halstead. Governor Dudley, the man from the jail, was next, followed by two more distinguished looking men.

“All rise!” came the order and everyone who was not already on their feet stood up and faced the front of the room. The chains of the prisoners rattled as they stood nervously before the bench.

“The honorable Joseph Dudley presiding, his honors John Usher and Samuel Caine, Paul Dudley, Captain Edward Halstead and Lieutenant John Persing.” The men sat down followed by the rest of the crowd. “The charges are as follows: On day 23 of September, the year of our Lord 1713, the merchant vessel Claire, 130 tons, owned by Usher and Company under the command of Percival Edwards was attacked by a pirate vessel under the command of David Oakes and manned by the following who also stand before you; George Malbon, William Cuttle, Samuel Harte.....” The names went on and on, Giovanni cringing at the reading of his. “......John Fuller and Hugh Hacker. After a brief resistance by the Claire the aforementioned crew boarded the Claire and murdered the entire crew. On day 27 of September, the year of our Lord 1713, the aforementioned merchant vessel, now under command of the accused, engaged HMS Ruby and was taken by the honorable Captain Halstead. The men before you are all accused of piracy, murder and theft. The penalty is death by hanging. How do you plead? George Malbon?”

“No....Not guilty.” He stated meekly.

“William Cuttle?”

“Not guilty.”

And so it went down the list, all except Oakes pleading not guilty.

“Captain Halstead, would you please honor the court with your account of the events of the 27 of September of this year?” requested Dudley, looking down his long nose at Oakes who was fidgeting as he stood before the panel with the rest of them.

“Certainly governor,” he stated, rising from his seat. “It was the first watch aboard the Ruby and we were making about seven knots heading NNE to take our station here in Boston. The wind was fair, the visibility good when we first spotted the ship that turned out to be the Claire. When she was hull up, the first thing we noticed that was amiss was the absence of any flag. She also made no attempt to slow down or change course as we moved to intercept. We were several leagues off her quarter, just close enough to begin making out figures on the deck through my glass when I witnessed several individuals being lined up along the rail and one was shot without any provocation that I could ascertain. At that point we beat to quarters and loosed the topgallants for more speed, hoping to prevent any more murders. Unfortunately we did not as evidenced by at least one sailor who had been beaten and tortured. When we closed within range we fired several shots with our chasers. The Claire then fired on us, clear evidence of piracy. Their fire was for the most part ineffectual and while they made a feeble effort at outrunning us, we closed and after firing a broadside consisting primarily of grapeshot, which cleared the decks marvelously, we came alongside and boarded. Resistance was spirited by those who were not inebriated but quickly put down with minimal losses on our side. Among the pirates, we counted twenty-four dead and five more died of their injuries before we arrived in Boston.”

“Thank you for your account Captain Halstead,” remarked Paul Dudley, the governor's son. “Could you identify for the court, the men before us who you actually saw taking action against you and the Ruby?”

“Certainly, your honor.” He picked up a paper that was before him. “David Oakes, who is the self described captain and also the individual I saw murder the man against the rail. George Malbon, John Fuller, Hugh Hacker, William Cuttle, John Bonden, Robert Smith, Hans Svenson and Patrick O’Malley. These men were either actively working the ship, seen under arms or were found with arms when the ship was taken. The remaining men were either too inebriated to take up arms or were found below decks without arms.”

“Thank you Captain. Are there any other questions for the Captain?” No one spoke. “Mr. Persing, do you have anything to add to Captain Halstead’s testimony.”

“No sir,” replied the youthful lieutenant shyly.

“Then we will begin with Mr. Oakes. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Oakes jerked his head up, flexed his arm against the chains and cleared his throat.

“I served under men who abused me horribly and I damn you all to hell for standing in judgment of me instead of them!” He said defiantly, knowing that he was a dead man no matter what he said. But he had a score to settle. “These men who stand before you, they were all forced to sign the articles and took up arms only because me an’ my crew threatened them. All of them except those two!” He stepped forward and pointed an accusing finger in the direction of Matthews and Giovanni. Giovanni couldn’t believe it, his knees nearly buckled under him. “Matthews and Bartolli, they’ve been with me since the mutiny on the Pegasus. If it weren’t for a run of bad luck we’d all still be out there taking ships from the likes of you!” He spat in the direction of Dudley, who was horrified at the outburst and breach of decorum. One of the soldiers came over and hit Oakes with the butt of his musket, stunning him into silence. The room was in pandemonium, Matthews sobbing, Giovanni in stunned silence on the floor. He was rudely lifted up, Matthews was slapped to shut him up.

“Order, Order!” yelled Paul Dudley. “Order!” The room slowly quieted down. “I believe we can remove Mr. Oakes and proceed with the rest of the testimony.”

Oakes was led, dazed, from the meeting house. There was just a low murmur from the crowd now.

“Order!” demanded Dudley again. The room eventually quieted down. “Mr. Malbon, do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“Aye, I was forced after my ship, the Penelope, was taken by Wolridge. And I was too drunk to know what I was doing.”

“Mr. Malbon, Captain Halstead testified he saw you under arms during the confrontation.”

Malbon thought for a moment and bowed his head. “I’m sorry for all I’d done, I hope the preacher’s right, I.....repent, that’s it, I repent and ask for mercy....from God and from you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes sir,” Malbon whispered.

“Mr.....Fuller, do you have anything to say in your defense?”

The testimony of the pirates all followed similar lines. They were drunk, they were forced, they were sorry. One or two more professed to have found religion as Johnson and now Malbon had.

“Percival Stevens, do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“Aye, judge sir. I don’t know why I’m here. Las’ I ‘member I was drinkin’ with me mates and I woke up in a stinkin’ hold with these on,” he stated, holding out his chained hands. “I ain’t no pirate, never did notin’ like t’at.”

“John Martin, do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“Yes your honors,” stated Martin, wringing his hands. “I ain’t no pirate, I’m a cooper, late of the Sofie. When these pirates,” he looked down the line at Malbon, Hacker and the others, “took her, they killed the captain, the first mate and another officer and sank the ship. The pirates didn’t have a cooper and wanted me to sign. When I refused, they cut off my ear!” His voice was breaking and he paused for a moment to regain some of his composure. “They were going to kill me if I didn’t sign. I never hurt nobody, I’m not one of them, please believe me. I’m not a pirate.” the last statement was in barely a whisper.

“Mr. Matthews,” continued Dudley mechanically, apparently unmoved by Martin’s testimony. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“Yes sir,” began Matthews, voice shaking, eyes red and puffy. “I’m just a farmer from Woolcomb, I’ve got a wife and young son and a child I’ve not yet seen. I was pressed in Catham where I had gone to visit my cousin...I was aboard the Vitol when it sank in a storm. I was then placed aboard the Penbroke where I served until I was part of a prize crew. The prize was sunk by a French ship and we were picked up by the Sofie and were on our way to Virginia when we were taken by the pirates in the St. John. I never signed on and Captain Wolridge didn’t make us. When ‘e was killed Oakes made us sign on pain of death. I had no choice but I never did anything, never shot at anyone, never killed anyone. When you...when the Ruby came on us we...I was below...they were going to kill us, those that didn’t want to sign, lined us up along the rail. I didn’t want to die, they were going to ‘ang us, I don’t want to be ‘anged, I just want to go back ‘ome. Please sir, I don’t want to die, I’m not a pirate, I was forced to sign, I just want to go ‘ome.” He was sobbing by now.

“Mr. Matthews.” It was one of the other men on the panel, Samuel Caine, a member of the town council. “Mr. Oakes said you have been with him since his first mutiny. Why should we believe your rather fantastic story? Why would Mr. Oakes identify you and....Mr. Bartolli as long standing members of his crew?”

“I...” Matthews swallowed hard. Oakes’ assertion had shaken him horribly. “I, some of the crew of the Sofie were talking about taking the ship....while they were drunk. That’s why they lined us up...killed Dickson.”

“Anything else Mr. Matthews?”

“Please, I’m telling you the truth, I’m not with them, I don’t know why Oakes pointed to us, please, I just want to go ‘ome.” He was sobbing again.

“That will be enough Mr. Matthews.” Matthews hung his head, body shaking. “Mr....Bartolli, Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Giovanni straightened up slightly and coughed. “Yes your honor. My testimony is almost the same as Mr. Matthews’. I was on a trading mission for my father from Genoa..”

“Genoa?” asked Dudley.

“Yes sir.”

“Is it not true that Genoa is allied with Spain, our enemy in this present conflict?”

Giovanni paused. “Yes sir.”

“And you were seeking trade with England?”

“Yes sir.”

“The stories get even more fantastic,” chuckled Dudley. “You may continue.”

“Sir, I was, as you say, ‘pressed’ from Catham at the same time as Mr. Matthews, even though I am not English, and was forced to serve aboard the Vitol and after that ship sank, the Penbroke.” He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, deciding that any detailing of the abuses he had suffered would fall on dear ears among these cruel English magistrates. But he had to say something, for the record. “Although raised aboard the merchantmen of my father, I will only say that I have never seen or experienced such an abuse of men in my life.”

“Mr. Bartolli, we are only concerned with the events of the Claire and your time among the pirates, no editorializing is necessary,” advised Dudley flatly.

“Following Mr. Matthews’ testimony, we were put aboard a prize that was sunk by a French frigate and after several days at sea, we were picked up by the Sofie.”

“Were there any other survivors of this shipwreck Mr. Bartolli?” asked Captain Halstead.

Giovanni’s mind raced back to see Quinn in the water, the stick coming down on his head, Will’s body drifting away from their raft.

“No sir, it was only Matthews and I that I know of.”

“Proceed Mr. Bartolli.”

“The Sofie was then taken by the pirates aboard the St. John. At that time Captain Wolridge did not force us to sign but after he was killed in the taking of the Claire, Mr. Oakes did force us. I also never took up arms against anyone, including the Ruby.”

“If this is true, then why did Mr. Oakes testify that you, as well as Mr. Matthews, had been with him so long?”

“I believe it is because Dickson of the Sofie, another man who was forced to sign, was preparing an attempt to take the ship while the pirates were drunk and he had approached me with his plan. It was overheard by the pirates who were going to murder us all when the Ruby fired on us.”

“How many of you were there, who were going to take the ship?” asked Captain Halstead.

“I believe there were five from the Sofie and a few other forced men.”

This response elicited a few more chuckles from the panel.

“We are to believe that a handful of men were going to take a ship from how many...” he looked at a paper in front of him. “two score or more pirates.”

Giovanni dropped his head. “Yes sir.”

“Is there any more to your testimony? Mermen or monsters perhaps?” Asked Dudley.

“No sir.”

“Mr. Samuel Harte, do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Harte’s testimony followed Matthews’ and Giovanni’s from the time of the Sofie but when asked, he knew nothing of the attempted mutiny. He was the last to testify.

“All testimony having been heard, we will adjourn until tomorrow when the judgment will be given.” With that they all rose and left the way they came and the prisoners were returned to the jail.

_______________________

That evening, most of the men were quiet as they contemplated their fate. The proceedings had gone rather mechanically with no indication whether any or all of them would be hanged. Oakes was returned later than the others, his face swollen from where the soldier had hit him during his outburst. When Matthews saw him being returned to the next cell he ran to the bars.

“What are you doing?! Why did you tell them we were with you?!” He reached through the bars but his wrist was hit hard by one of the jailers and he shrieked in pain. Giovanni looked at Oakes who was smiling sadistically. Matthews fell back against the bars, sobbing. Giovanni moved to join him.

“Matthews, do you really think the court is going to believe that murderer?” Giovanni said the words but he didn’t know if he believed them himself. “All they need is our records from the Vitol and Pembroke to see that he’s lying.”

“How could he say that? Why? I didn’t do anything.”

“He’s vindictive and doesn’t have anything to lose. He wants to save his loyal crew and condemn us for standing against him.”

“But they’ll believe him, we’re going to hang Giovanni!” Matthews buried his face in his hands.

“I don’t know...” was all Giovanni could offer. The last thing he expected from the English at this point was fairness and justice. He had been proven wrong so many times before and every time his hopes had risen, they had been cast down. He had nothing more to say so he focused on a pair of mice in the far corner looking for some scraps. An opening door in the room beyond brought him out of his daydream. The door to their part of the jail opened and the jailer led in the two women with food. Giovanni jumped up, straightening out the rags he was wearing.

“Men, you know what to do.”

Chains clanged as they all raced to get their tin cups from around the water barrel and came to the bars. There were no more leering comments after the fresh food was withheld once due to the indiscretions of Hacker and Smith. The young woman, under the watchful eye of every man in the room, including the jailer, started making her way along the bars, filling each cup with the hot soup in her jar. She was followed by the older woman who ripped off a piece of fresh bread for each man. The young woman stood before Giovanni who held her eyes for an instant.

“Thank you,” he stated with as much feeling as he could muster. She merely looked down but Giovanni thought he caught just a glimpse of a smile as she turned to the next man. He was taking his bread when there was a shriek and the sound of a jar shattering on the stone floor. Giovanni was horrified to see Cuttle with his huge arm extended through the bars around the young woman’s neck, the other with a fistful of her dress, pinning her to the bars.

“I’m not going to hang!” he screamed. “You let me out of here now or I’ll kill her!” He tightened his grip around her throat to prove his point. She gasped, the only sound that could now escape her throttled windpipe. The rest of the men in the cell backed away, the jailer screaming for help, unsure of what to do. Giovanni knew he had to do something but as he looked around he could see no weapon and he knew he would be no match for the huge man. Ahhh, his mind was racing as two soldiers came in and leveled muskets at Cuttle but didn’t have a clear shot around the woman, not one that would kill.

“Drop the muskets!” he ordered, “No, bring them here!” The soldiers looked at each other. “I said bring them here!” The woman let out a high pitched squeak as he tightened his grip again. Giovanni was backing around the cell when his foot hit the bucket they used to relieve themselves, it was almost full. Without thinking he grabbed the rope handle and running forward, he swung it with all his might. The soldier’s eyes went wide and Cuttle turned slightly to see what they were looking at but it was too late. The full bucket hit him square in the temple and shattered, covering him, the woman, the two soldiers and several other prisoners with the contents. Stunned, Cuttle relaxed his grip on the woman and stepped back to try to keep his balance, shaking his head. That move gave the soldiers the opening that they needed and the two muskets fired as one, exploding his face and adding the contents of his head to that of the bucket scattered around the cell. The woman fell forward into the arms of one of the soldiers who quickly escorted her out, followed by her hysterical companion. The other soldier was already reloading his musket.

“Back!” yelled the jailer. “All of you back away from the bars!” All of them quickly retreated as the soldier brought his musket up and swept it across the cell. Four more men with muskets entered the cell area. “Stay back!” ordered the jailer again, approaching the cell door. His hand was shaking as he turned the key. “One of you, give me some help,” he said to the soldiers. One of the men left his musket against the wall and followed the jailer into the cell where they grabbed Cuttle’s feet and drug him out. The door clanged shut again. Two of the men with muskets remained as the prisoners relaxed slightly. No one said a word although several of the pirates shot angry glances at Giovanni for killing one of their own and perhaps ruining a chance of escape. Cuttle’s fate had been decided, the rest of them still had to wait until tomorrow.

______________________________

“All rise for the Honorable Governor Dudley and the rest of the court.” The Town House was even more fully packed than the day before, if that was possible. Word of the altercation the previous night had spread and all were wondering if it would have any effect on the judgments about to be handed down. Dudley and the rest of the court sat down, followed by those in the crowd who had seats.

Paul Dudley cleared his throat. “The following judgment has been rendered regarding the act of piracy against the Claire on the 23rd of September and the subsequent confrontation with HMS Ruby on the 27th of September in the year of our Lord, 1713. David Oakes, John Fuller, Hugh Hacker, George Malbon, John Bonden, Robert Smith, Peter O’Malley, Hans Svenson. For the crimes of piracy, murder, theft and firing on HMS Ruby you are all sentenced to be carried back to the place from whence you came, from thence to the place of execution along the waterfront to be hanged by the neck until dead, dead, dead. Date of execution is a week from today. And may the Lord have mercy on your souls.” A murmur went through the crowd, such a sentence was expected. George Malbon fell to his knees in tears, Oakes spit at Dudley again.

“Samuel Harte, John Martin, John Toole, you have been found not guilty of the charges.” Martin fell to his knees, thanking the court as they were being released from their chains.

“Peter Graves, Percival Wolfe, Jeremiah Senwell, Thomas Matthews, George Porter, Giovanni Bartolli, and James Williams will be held until next Friday when their judgment will be pronounced.” What!? Giovanni wanted to scream. How could they do this, how could they not see! They were herded out and back to the jail. The preacher followed them with some of his flock.

“You men, whose earthly fate has been sealed by those whom Almighty God has placed in authority, now is the time to repent before thy breath is gone and the fires of damnation envelope thee for all eternity!” And so it went for the next hour. Malbon, Smith and James Williams were kneeling at the bars the whole time, soaking up every word. The rest of them sat quietly in the back, ignoring him, making their own peace, contemplating their non-existence. When he finally wound up his exhortation and left, it was quiet in the jail. Giovanni was grateful for it. Then he caught Oakes’ eye in the next cell. He was smiling that wicked smile of his.

“You and your friend are gonna hang jus’ the same as me,” he chuckled. Giovanni jumped up and rushed the bars, screaming, cursing in Italian. Oakes looked puzzled for a moment and then threw his head back and laughed.

“Giovanni, it’s not worth it,” consoled Matthews, coming up and putting his hand on his shoulder. Next week he’ll be dead and we....well we don’t know.”

Giovanni collapsed, his back against the wall. He was so tired of not knowing, never being in control, never having any choices. The English took him and hemmed him in on every side. First the navy, then the merchants and even the pirates. The labels were different but they were all the same. He wished he could kill every one of them, strangle them with his bare hands, see the life slowly leave them just as they had bled it from him. He just wanted to scream, tear through the cell and take that smile off of Oakes’ face, along with his head. He pressed his hands against his temples, trying unsuccessfully to suppress his rage. Eventually, he fell asleep.

_____________________________

Every day the preacher came in to talk to the men. Most of them ignored him and after the first time the preacher told Giovanni he needed to repent of his ‘popism’, he ignored him as well. Malbon and Smith spent a lot of time with him however.

“How do you find your heart now disposed?” asked the preacher.

“Oh, I am in a horrible condition!” he cried. “Lord Jesus, dear God, look upon me with mercy!”

“Amen, with mercy,” whispered Smith, kneeling next to him.

“Mr. Malbon, Mr. Smith, you are now sensible to the fact that you are the gravest of sinners?”

“Oh yes! I 'ave been such from my youth! Is it possible t'at such a man as me should ever find mercy wit' God? Will 'e pardon such a man?”

“Will 'e?” added Smith.

“My dear friends, this is what I have advised you of since the beginning, there is pardon to be had! You must mark every word I have for you. I perceive you are in great agony but the narrow road is traveled in such a state, the gate of heaven is breached by such a spirit.”

“Oh, oh, thank you parson,” said Smith.

“Of all your past sins, which are lying most heavily on your spirit?”

“My lack of duty to my parents, and my profanation of the Sabbath.”

Giovanni grunted as he listened. Since the preacher started coming the tough, hard Malbon and his bulky companion had learned a whole new language. They had learned to say exactly what the preacher wanted them to. He doubted they even knew what the Sabbath was before the preacher told them. Each of them had been told of sins they had committed they had not even been aware of. In his mind’s eye he saw Dickson’s murder and figured that was enough to send them to hell, they should just concentrate on that.

“Such sins are very severe. Your duty to your parents was addressed by the Savior Himself and your spurning of the Day of the Lord grieves Him horribly. You are right to count these so heavily.”

“Oh I do sir, I do.”

“Mr. Malbon?”

“My sins are so many! I 'ave killed, I 'ave stolen, I am a drunkard. Can there really be mercy on one such as me?”

“Even though your sins be as scarlet, the blood of Jesus can make them as white as snow!” His voice now rose in volume. “I wish that all those who were with you would be more sensible to the crimes for which you will soon be removed from among the living. You are all murderers and thieves and the blood of those who served on the Claire rises up to heaven against you!”

“Turn it up man!” growled Hacker.

“Cut the guff,” added another.

“We were forced men!” yelled Cooper. “We are innocent!”

“No man is innocent!” retorted the preacher. “All are sinners, every one of you is guilty, every one of you need repentance. No man can claim he was forced unto any act against a Holy God. If you were truly averse to joining these men, it would have been better for you to have died a martyr than to become as one of them. You are a shame to your parents whom you have wounded mortally with your sins. Do none of you have any light to bring them, any words which will lessen their suffering?”

“Oh, I am so very sorry for the life I have led,” cried Malbon. “I only wish God would find a little mercy for me!”

“Aye, I would rather die now than to return to the life I have led!” added Smith. Oakes was laughing heartily in the background.

“A time will come when laughter will no longer be found among you, when the gates of Hell will be opened and you will be admitted to everlasting punishment! Dear God in Heaven, whose mercies know no bounds, see these men Thy servants who have repented of their sinfulness and seek Thy grace! Show them Thy everlasting love. Those among them who have spurned the words of Thy servant, soften their hard hearts, open their eyes to Thy light that they may see their wickedness and repent before they are removed from the land of the living and have no other opportunity to avoid the fate Thou hast reserved for the devil and his followers.” He reached through the bars and placed a hand first on Malbon, then Smith. “May the peace of God descend on you.”

“Thank you parson.”

“Damn fools, every one of you,” mumbled Oakes.

___________________________

“Bartolli, to the front, the rest of you against the wall!” ordered the jailer, four soldiers with muskets beside him enforcing his orders. The other prisoners slowly got up and backed away as Giovanni hesitantly came forward. The jailer warily opened the door and motioned Giovanni to come closer. He grabbed Giovanni’s chains and yanked them, nearly pulling him to the floor.

“Come on,” he ordered, still pulling on the chain. One of the soldiers closed the door behind him and he was led out into the adjacent room. To his surprise the young woman who brought the food was sitting nervously at the table, accompanied by her companion, who had a scowl on her face.

“Stand here!” ordered the jailer, yanking on his chain again to enforce the point. Giovanni grunted and shot an angry look at the jailer. The two women rose from the other side of the table.

“Come on Sarah, out with it girl. I didn’t want to come back here as it was, with that band of cutthroats nearly killing you last week. Get it out of your system, we will find another avenue for our charity,” stated the older woman angrily, glaring at Giovanni.

The young woman stepped forward.

“That’s close enough Miss Sarah,” admonished the jailer, stepping next to Giovanni. She stopped short and stood there, looking at the floor for a moment. Then she looked up at Giovanni with those beautiful, dark eyes.

“I....I wanted to thank you.....personally, for what you did last week.” Her voice was soft, the words flowing like honey from her full lips.

“You are welcome,” Giovanni replied, bowing slightly, holding her gaze. “It was the least I could do given your...charity.” He nodded in the direction of the older woman who just scowled at him and grunted. He looked back to Sarah, reveling in her eyes. She held his gaze a moment more and then looked down.

“I don’t know what will happen on Friday but I know that your act of courage in my defense will not go unrewarded, if not on earth then in Heaven.” She looked up at him one more time, and he bowed again.

“That’s enough now, it’s time to go,” stated the older woman, taking her arm and steering her toward the door. Giovanni watched her intently, her lithe form graceful yet...purposeful and strong. The jailer yanked his chain again and pulled him toward his cell.

“Last you’ll see of her, doubt she’ll be there for your hangin’ on Friday,” he chuckled, slamming the door shut.

“What was that about?” asked Matthews, desperate for any news about their situation. “Are we being pardoned?”

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly.

“Did you see the Governor? One of the judges?”

“No Matthews, it was the girl....she said thank you.” One of the other pirates whistled and chuckled at that. Matthews plopped down next to him.

“So we’re going to hang, I guess that’s it.”

Giovanni just shrugged, her image still before him, somehow making it all bearable.

________________________

“Everybody up, it’s time!” ordered the jailer. It was Friday morning, the day some of them would meet their maker for sure, and the others....would find out soon enough. Giovanni felt sick. In the last few days Matthews had been given to prayer, pacing around the cell, mumbling to himself. Both had tried to ignore Oakes, who seemed to revel in their fear.

Several soldiers had crowded in with the jailer, red coats spotless, silver trim gleaming, in stark contrast to the drab and dirty conditions of the jail. The door was opened and the jailer began chaining them together in two groups for their walk to the wharf. They all stood mutely as the jailer yanked on each one’s chain to make sure it was secure.

“All right, let’s go.” Oakes led the procession in the first group, Matthews was at the head of Giovanni’s. They shuffled out into the street, chains clanging together, soldiers marching alongside. The sky was overcast and is was quite windy. The sea air blasted them as they turned to go down to the wharf. Despite the cold, dreary conditions, the townspeople lined the street to see the macabre parade. Children pointed, adults stared, a few threw rotten fruit, particularly at Oakes and the condemned men. The Claire was, after all, owned by men of the town and had been crewed by several seamen from Boston. So these weren’t just any pirates caught on the high seas but the murderers of their sons and husbands. There would probably be cheers around the scaffold today, thought Giovanni.

On they marched, a light drizzle now stinging their faces in the wind. A turn in the street and they could see the wharf and the huge scaffold, large enough for ten men at a time. The nooses swayed in the strong breeze from the crossbar. As they got closer they could see a platform next to it and several of the town dignitaries were already seated, struggling to keep their wigs on and their clothes looking good. The crowd along the streets had been following them and began joining those already gathered around the scaffold. They were marched into a position just before it and guards took up places all around them. At some unseen cue, Governor Dudley, the other judges, the preacher and a few others marched up and joined those already on the platform. The noise of the crowd escalated as they took their seats. There was much pointing and discussion as they speculated on the fate of the men in chains. Even a guilty verdict did not necessarily mean a hanging, a man could be pardoned at the last moment. And, of course, there were the men like Giovanni who still did not know their fate but stood before the gallows none the less.

“May I have your attention!” yelled Paul Dudley. The crowd slowly quieted down. “We are here to see the righteous and just sentence of this court carried out!”

“Hangin’s too good for them!” yelled one woman whose husband had been a crewman on the Claire.

“Drawn and quartered they should be!” yelled another.

“Stretch their necks!” The crowd began to yell a chorus of comments along the same lines. More fruit and insults were hurled at the prisoners. Giovanni was shivering in the biting wind. Dudley rose and raised his hands to quiet the crowd. The noise degenerated into a low murmur.

“People of Boston!” he began. “These men will reap the rewards of their crimes soon enough.” Several amens greeted that comment. “But in the interests of Christian charity we must give them every opportunity to repent of their misdeeds!” He nodded to the preacher who now stood up.

“Our God is a God of mercy, even to those who have done things we do not desire to recall!” The crowd murmured amen again, although not quite as enthusiastically. “Even as the thief and murderer hung on the cross next to our beloved Savior found mercy yet still paid for his crime, so these men, you men before us, can still find the mercy of God through the blood of our Savior if thou would just repent of thy deeds and seek his mercy!” Malbon issued a loud ‘amen’ seconded by Smith. The preacher continued for what seemed like hours as the drizzle came and went and the prisoners all shivered uncontrollably. “....and thus, even as we see justice done by those whom God has placed in authority over us, we see His mercy at work among us. Amen.” Then he sat down. Paul Dudley rose with a large rolled parchment. He unrolled it slightly, struggling with it in the wind.

“It is the determination of this court that for the crimes previously detailed on the date of October the 15th, in the year of our Lord 1713, the following men are hereby condemned to death by hanging. David Oakes, John Fuller, Hugh Hacker, George Malbon, John Bonden, Robert Smith, Peter O’Malley, Hans Svenson and Jeremiah Senwell. Bring them forward!” The jailer and several of his assistants began unchaining the men and escorting them to the scaffold. Each man was placed before the crowd, hands fastened behind, noose placed around his neck. The crowd watched in silence as did the remaining prisoners.

“Do the prisoners have any final words before the sentence is carried out?” Asked Dudley.

“Every one of you, especially that damn preacher, can all go to hell!” yelled Oakes. A soldier nearby hit him hard in the head with the butt of his musket and his body wobbled, the noose tightening to hold him up. He struggled to keep his feet and the jailer came up behind him and stood him up.

“Anyone else?”

“I am mightily sorry for what I have done and ask for the mercy of God,” pleaded Malbon.

“I do too....the mercy of God...hear us dear Jesus!” yelled Smith.

“I ain’t a bit sorry fer what I done, I’m jus’ sorry I got caught!” stated Hacker, a sly smile on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s the life of a pirate for me!” added Fuller.

“I don’t want to die!” pleaded Senwell, who had just found out his fate, not having been included earlier. “I’m innocent, I was forced, I didn’t do nothin’, I’m sorry, I don’t want to die!”

“Do you repent, Mr. Senwell?” asked the preacher.

“I do, let me go, I don’t want to die.”

“Nothing can stop that now, seek the mercy of God in these, thy last moments of life.”

Senwell was sobbing now and no one else said a word.

“Executioners, take your positions.”

Giovanni looked at Oakes, who was smiling that same wicked smile at him.

“May God have mercy on your souls.”

The lever was pulled and all nine men dropped as one. After a few twitches, all of the bodies were soon swinging motionless in the wind. Paul Dudley stood again, struggling with his scroll.

“Peter Graves, Percival Wolfe, George Porter and James Williams, for the crimes of piracy, murder and theft of the aforementioned vessels, you have been acquitted.” There were several boos from the crowd but all four men were released to their great relief. Giovanni looked at Matthews, who had tears in his eyes. He could not believe that it was really going to end here, he would never get to see his father again, his family may never even know what happened. Dudley adjusted the scroll. “Thomas Matthews and Giovanni Bartolli, you are remanded to the town jail awaiting further evidence in your case.”

Giovanni wasn’t sure how to feel. He was relieved that he was walking away from the scaffold but he might still find his way back to it. The jailer grabbed him and directed he and Matthews back up the street to the jail.