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To this vile Crue you may the PIRATE add
Who puts to Sea the Merchant to invade,
And reaps the Profit of another’s Trade.
He sculks behind some Rock, or swiftly flies
From Creek to Creek, rich Vessels to surprise.
By this ungodly Course the Robber gains,
And lays up so much Wealth, that he disdains
And mocks the poor, unprofitable Toil,
Of those, who plant the Vine, or till the Soil.

–Sir Richard Blackmore, from “A Paraphrase on the Book of Job,” which opens Cotton Mather’s The Vial Poured Out Upon the SEA.

When Cotton Mather learned that on June 27, 1726 William Atkinson had sailed into Boston Harbor with the captured pirate William Fly, he knew there would be a flashy trial, a well-attended execution, and yet another occasion to publish a popular criminal account to further his Puritan religious agenda.

Mather was the minister at the North Church in Boston, and in this position he often prepared criminals on death row for their ultimate judgment by God by lecturing them about the importance of confessing their sins and repenting their crimes. Mather soon discovered that published accounts of his interactions with these criminals were popular with the reading public–especially if they included a detailed description of the crime committed by the criminal–and through these publications he could reach a much wider audience than from the pulpit.

So every execution in Boston became an opportunity for Mather to dramatize the doctrines that informed his sermons and to demonstrate the futility of sin through the example of an ultimate sinner. But in order to make this formula work, he needed the cooperation of the criminal. He spent long hours preaching to the condemned, and he even coached them on how to behave in front of the crowd on execution day. But he was unprepared for the challenge that awaited him when he entered the prison cell to meet the pirate William Fly.

On the Elizabeth

Back on May 27, 1726 at one o’clock in the morning, the boatswain, William Fly, and another sailor, Alexander Mitchel, crept into the cabin of Captain John Green. Fly seized Green’s arms and held them down while Mitchel beat him. The two then dragged Green up to the main deck of the Elizabeth, and when Green realized that the seamen intended to throw him over the side of the ship, he begged, “For the Lord’s Sake, don’t throw me overboard; For if you do, you throw me into Hell immediately.” Clearly, Green believed he had sins to repent.

(Prints and Photographs Division - Library of Congress)

Fly showed no mercy and told Green that he would be better off using his final words to plead, “Lord, Have Mercy on my Soul” than trying to convince Fly not to follow through on his plan. Green grabbed a mainsheet and held on to it or dear life, but another sailor picked up the cooper’s broadax and chopped off Green’s hand. The mutineers then threw the captain into the ocean.

Fly and Mitchel now went after the captain’s mate, Thomas Jenkins. With the help of Samuel Cole, they pulled Jenkins up on deck with the intention that he “should go after the Master.” The group tossed Jenkins overboard as well, but not before one of them used the broadax again to cut through the mate’s shoulder. Jenkins cried out from the water to the doctor of the ship, “For the Lord’s Sake, fling me a Rope,” but Fly prevented the doctor from doing so and confined him in irons along with the gunner and the carpenter.

Fly later said that their actions were motivated by revenge for the officers’ “Bad Usage” of the crew. No published account of the mutiny provides any details about how the sailors were mistreated, but the Elizabeth was a slaving ship, and the officers of such ships were notorious for their rough treatment of cargo and crew alike.

After the mutiny, the crew elected Fly captain of the ship. They rechristened it Fames’ Revenge, sewed a skull and crossbones onto a black flag, and redirected the ship from its original course eastward from Jamaica to Guinea and instead headed north.

“Gentlemen of Fortune”

On June 3, the pirates came across a sloop commanded by Captain Fulker anchored off the coast of Cape Hattaras in North Carolina. Fulker assumed that the approaching ship needed directions, so he rowed over to offer his services. To the captain’s surprise, Fly informed him that they were “Gentlemen of Fortune” and that they intended to trade ships with Fulker if it was advantageous for them to do so. But as the pirates tried to sail the new ship out to sea against the countervailing winds, it hit a sand bar, filled with water, and sank. In frustration the pirates attempted to set the stranded ship on fire, but the flames never took, so they imprisoned Fulker and his crew on their own ship and moved on.

The next day the pirates spotted another ship in the distance, and when they finally caught up with it the following day, they raised their black flag and easily captured it after only firing several guns. They seized some sails, clothes, and arms from the ship and let Fulker and his men go. But they kept William Atkinson, who had experience navigating the coast of New England, and made him a pilot by threatening to “blow his Brains out” if he refused. With such a threat hanging over his head, Atkinson pledged his allegiance to the pirate crew.

News of Fly

Around June 20, Captain Samuel Harris arrived in Philadelphia and reported that five leagues east of Cape May he and his crew were captured by a pirate named William Fly. He said Fly commanded about 23 men, and the ship was carrying rum, sugar, corn, beans, and a large quantity of small arms. The pirates held him and his crew for 24 hours, but then let them go after confiscating all of their clothes and some goods worth a total of 100 pounds. Harris also said that Fly intended to sail to Block Island, RI. When the news hit New York, two ships immediately set sail to try to catch the pirates, but they returned from Block Island empty handed.

Meanwhile, William Atkinson was secretly plotting to strip command of the ship from Fly. It was a bold plan, because someone else had already tried and was now suffering the consequences. Samuel Cole, who had helped with the original mutiny, was being held in irons because Fly suspected him of putting a plan together to challenge his authority. In addition to keeping Cole in chains, Fly also subjected him to 100 lashes every day. Apparently, Fly did not treat his crew any better than Green, the original captain, did.

(Prints and Photographs Division - Library of Congress)

Fly ordered Atkinson to take the ship to Martha’s Vineyard for water, but Atkinson purposely sailed right by it. Fly was furious when he learned that they had missed their mark, but his anger subsided when they came across a band of fishing schooners. The pirates captured one of the ships, and Atkinson convinced Fly to use it to go after the other ships in the fleet. After Fly transferred most of his crew to the other ship, only three other pirates and 15 prisoners remained on the Elizabeth, and one of the three pirates was in irons.

Once the fishing schooner sailed off with most of the pirate crew, Atkinson called Fly over to take a look at another set of sails that he claimed to have spotted in the distance. As Fly put his eye to the telescope, Atkinson gave a signal to two other prisoners, and the three men seized the pirate and secured him in irons. Now joined by the carpenter, the group easily captured the other two pirates. In less than a month, Fly’s piratical reign came to an end.

On June 27, Atkinson and the four captured pirates landed in Boston Harbor. As a matter of formality, all sixteen people on board the ship were charged with piracy and quickly brought to trial in front of a Special Court of Admiralty. Only the four pirates were found guilty, and each of them received a sentence of death.

Mather’s First Visit

On July 6, 1726, Cotton Mather visited the four pirates in prison for the first time. Upon entering their cell, Mather announced that he was there to show them the path that could lead to the salvation of their souls. The pirates eagerly listened to what he had to say, and as Mather delivered his long-winded speech, admonishing them for their horrid crimes and speaking of God’s mercy, the pirates regularly chimed in with their admissions and approval.

(Prints and Photograph Division - Library of Congress)

“It is a most hideous Article in the Heap of Guilt lying on you,” Mather proclaimed, “that an Horrible Murder is charged upon you; There is a cry of Blood going up to Heaven against you.”

At this point, Fly could not take any more and broke in, “I can’t charge my self with Murder. I did not strike and wound the Master or Mate! It was Mitchel did it!

The other pirates countered Fly by saying that even if they did not have a direct hand in the murder of the captain and the mate, they assisted in the deed and are therefore guilty.

Mather added, “Fly, I am astonished at your stupidity. I cannot understand you. I am sure, you don’t understand yourself. I shall be better able, another time to reason with you.”

Fly replied, “It is very strange another should know more of me, than I do of myself. There are False Oathes ta-gainst me.

Fly continued to raise objections, but Mather proceeded undaunted with the private sermon. When Mather came to the subject of forgiveness, he turned to Fly and asked, “Are there any in the world, which you don’t wish well to[?]”

“Yes;” Fly answered, “There is one Man, that I don’t, and I can’t wish well to! It is a Vain Thing to ly, If I should say, that I forgive that Man, and that I wish him well, I should ly against my Conscience, and add Sin to Sin.” Fly was referring to Atkinson, in whom he had invested his trust after the pilot had taken an oath to join the pirate crew.

Mather tried to convince Fly to let go of his grudge, but to no avail, so he concluded his discussion with the pirates and left.

Mather’s Second Visit

Mather returned to the prison cell three days later and continued where he had left off: “now, Fly; I hope, you are come to a Better Frame, than what I lately left you in.”

“I am where I was, Fly replied.

Not only did Fly continue to wish ill upon Atkinson, but he stood fast in maintaining his innocence in the murder, “I can’t Charge myself, Fly railed, “—I shan’t own myself Guilty of any Murder,—Our Captain and his Mate used us Barbarously. We poor Men can’t have Justice done us. There is nothing said to our Commanders, let them never so much abuse us, and use us like Dogs. But the poor Sailors—-”

The back and forth between Mather and Fly became so heated that Cole interrupted, “I desire to be removed out of the Room; I can’t bear to stay and hear, my Guilty Companion, so stand upon his Innocence. He and we are all verily Guilty. And there’s Blood of the Captain yet in the Cabin, crying against me.

At this point, Mather gave up trying to reason with Fly. He ignored the former pirate captain–as well as Cole’s request to leave the room–and ended the meeting with a few more long recitations.

Fly’s resistance to authority went beyond not cooperating with the minister. Mather reported that as Fly sat in prison, the “Sullen and Raging Mood, into which he fell, . . . caused him to break forth into furious Execrations, and Blasphemies too hideous to be mention’d.” He refused to eat and subsisted only on drinking a small amount. He also refused to attend religious services, because “he would not have the Mob to gaze upon him.”

The Execution Scene

Not surprisingly, Mather also failed in his attempt to orchestrate Fly’s exit from the world. As the four pirates were paraded on July 12 through the streets of Boston to the gallows, Fly waved and bowed to the crowd with a nosegay in his hand. When they arrived at the site of execution, Fly jumped up onto the platform with a smile on his face and proceeded to examine the noose that was to hang him. He reprimanded the hangman for his work in tying the knot and readjusted it, using his seaman’s skill in tying rope.

At the last minute, one of the pirates received a reprieve, because he was deemed to be feeble of mind and not responsible for his actions. Cole and the other remaining pirate dutifully played their part in front of the gallows by showing repentance and warning those in the crowd against repeating the sins that they committed.

But when it was Fly’s turn to speak, he used it as an opportunity to warn “Masters of Vessels to carry it well to their Men, lest they should be put upon doing as he had done.” As the other two pirates requested a second and then a third prayer from the attending ministers, Fly “look’d about him unconcerned.”

Nixes Mate (National Park Service)

Fly may not have followed Mather’s execution script, but Mather exacted his own revenge by using his pen to control the account of Fly’s final minutes on earth. Mather maintained that “in the Midst of all his affected Bravery, a very sensible Trembling attended him; His hands and his Knees were plainly seen to Tremble.—And so we must leave him for the Judgment to come.”

The three pirates were executed at 3 p.m., and their bodies were afterward taken in a small boat out to Nixes Mate, a small island about two leagues from shore at the entrance to Boston Harbor. Two of the pirates were buried there, but Fly was hung up in chains “as a Spectacle for the Warning of others, especially Sea faring Men.”

Sources

• “1726: William Fly, Unrepentant Pirate.” ExecutedToday.com. July 12, 2008. Website: http://www.executedtoday.com/2008/07/12/1726-william-fly-pirate-boston/
• “Boston.” Boston News-Letter, Thursday, July 14, 1726, issue 1172, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Boston, July 7.” Boston News-Letter, Thursday, July 7, 1726, issue 1171, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Boston, July 2.” American Weekly Mercury, Thursday, July 14, 1726, issue 342, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• Boston News-Letter, Thursday, June 30, 1726, issue 1170, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• Colman, Benjamin. It Is a Fearful Thing. Boston: John Phillips and Thomas Hancock, 1726. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank.
• Mather, Cotton. The Vial Poured Out Upon the SEA. Boston: T. Fleet, 1726. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank.
• “New York, June 20.” Boston Gazette, Monday, June 27, 1726, issue 343, p. 4. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “New York, June 27.” American Weekly Mercury, Thursday, June 30, 1726, issue 340, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Philadelphia, June 23.” American Weekly Mercury, Thursday, June 23, 1726, issue 339, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• Rediker, Marcus. Villains of All Nations: Atlantic Pirates in the Golden Age. Boston: Beacon Press, 2004.
• The Tryals of Sixteen Persons for Piracy. Boston: Joseph Edwards, 1726. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank.
• Williams, Daniel E. Pillars of Salt: An Anthology of Early American Criminal Narratives. Madison, WI: Madison House, 1993.
• —. “Puritans and Pirates: A Confrontation between Cotton Mather and William Fly in 1726.” Early American Literature 22:3 (1987), 233-251.

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On June 29, 1745, Elizabeth Shaw, a “weak, simple girl, deficient in mental capacity,” gave birth to a boy in Windham, CT. She was not happy. Her son was a bastard child, which could not only bring punishment and public humiliation upon her, but also incur the wrath of her “stern and rigid” father. She decided to rid herself of the problem by taking the baby into the woods, hiding it in a nook along a ledge of rocks, and leaving it there to die.

Town lore says that Shaw’s father grew suspicious and, implausibly, saw Elizabeth perform the deed (why didn’t he stop her or rescue the child?). When he could not get his daughter to confess the crime, he turned her over to the authorities. A search party was sent out, and they found the expired baby hidden in the rocks.

On September 17, a large audience watched as Shaw was tried and found guilty of murder by the Superior Court, but an even larger crowd showed up on December 18 to see Shaw carted from the jail where she was being held to the gallows that was erected on a small hill one mile southwest of the Windham Green. Shaw sat on her coffin in tears as she moved through the streets, crying out, “Oh, Jesus! Have mercy on my soul!”

Some people said afterwards that Shaw’s repentant father traveled to Hartford and procured a last-second reprieve from the governor. The father raced back to Windham, but a sudden snowstorm made the rivers impassable, so he never made it back in time to stop the execution. (A local historian, however, questions the veracity of this part of the story.)

Infanticide Put to Verse

Many years later in 1772, a poem about Elizabeth Shaw was published in New London, CT, although the title misstates the date of the execution by 13 months. Why did someone (was it the printer, Timothy Green?) write and publish a poem about Elizabeth Shaw’s crime and execution 27 years after the fact?

Boston Gazette - May 8, 1772 (From Early American Newspapers, an Archive of Americana Collection, published by Readex (Readex.com), a division of NewsBank, inc.)

Perhaps the poem’s publication was prompted by two reports of infanticide that appeared in the Connecticut Gazette (New London) and several other Connecticut newspapers. In one case, Sarah Goldthwait was accused of murdering her newborn son by tying several stones around his body and throwing him into a pond in Lynn, MA. The same newspaper article also reported that a newborn child was found floating in the Charles River and was assumed to have been murdered by its “unnatural Mother.” That two shocking murders of newborn babies occurred on the heels of one another in Massachusetts could have reawakened the memory of the local infanticide involving Elizabeth Shaw.

(1)
Behold a sight may cause a fright
From paths of sin in time,
As some have run till quite undone
And perish’d in their prime.

(2)
Here’s one must die before our eyes
which some of us did know,
For murder done to her own son
which caus’d her overthrow.

(3)
Her time being come she went from home
as she herself declares,
And satan found her on his ground
and did her soul insnare.

(4)
Her child being born, she left forlorn
being deaf to all its moans,
Her heart being hard had no regard
to her own flesh and bones.

(5)
Hard lodging sure she did procure
for such young tender skin,
Barks of the wood the best she cou’d
afford for covering.

(6)
Parental pity she had none
unto her infant’s cry,
On the cold ground she laid it down
and left it there to die.

(7)
It is not known how long alone
it languish’d in the grove.
Its mournful cries that did arise,
was heard by God above.

(8)
Soon after this she did confess,
say’ng, on my father’s ground.
There she replies the infant lies,
and there the corps they found.

(9)
While lying there no beast did tear
which seems to testify,
For blood conceal’d must be reveal’d
it did for vengeance cry.

(10)
She was commanded with her hand
to touch the infant’s flesh,
Which when she came to touch the same
the corps did bleed afresh.

(11)
Then she was judg’d in goal to lodge
till they her case might try—
The judges say, and jury they
this murderer must die.

(12)
To see her when she’s just condemn’d
does make my heart to ache,
But God I know is just and true
and this just law did make.

(13)
It makes me mind how in short time
in the great judgment morn,
How she and I the Lord will try
and all that e’er was born.

(14)
God’s watchmen they, must pity take
with her much time they spent,
Their earnest cries that did arise,
and warn’d her to repeat.

(15)
In standing by to hear her cry,
that she wou’d Christ receive,
The word doth say, her soul might save
if she would but believe.—

(16)
Her time being spent that God had lent
her on this earth to be,
The warning’s read she must be dead
before the hour of three.

(17)
Alas poor heart! Then in a cart
was carried along.
Unto the place of high disgrace
where many round her throng.

(18)
There she may see her fatal tree,
there she may see her grave
And O that she her self could see
a gracious Christ to have.

(19)
Thus di’d this female in her youth,
not twenty years of age,
Her sinful ways cut short her days
and snatch’d her from the stage:

(20)
O may we all who hear her fall
a timely warning take:
Let’s not delay another day,
before we sin forsake.

Sources

• “Boston, May 4.” Connecticut Gazette, May 8, 1772, vol. IX, issue 443, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Boston, May 4.” Connecticut Journal, May 8, 1772, issue 238, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Boston, May 7.” Connecticut Courant, May 12, 1772, issue 385, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• A Brief Relation of a Murder Committed by Elizabeth Shaw. London: [Timothy Green], 1772. A copy of original can be found on the Connecticut History Online website: http://www.cthistoryonline.org/cdm-cho/item_viewer.php?CISOROOT=/cho&CISOPTR=67&CISOBOX=1&REC=6
• Larned, Ellen Douglas. History of Windham County, Connecticut. Vol. I. Worcester, MA: Charles Hamilton, 1874.

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With the ill treatment by his mistress “burning and broyling in [his] Breast,” Thomas Hellier, an indentured servant on a Virginia plantation, knew he had to escape. In 1677, Hellier was tricked into signing an indentured servant contract back in England with the promise that he would not be forced to perform physical labor and would instead be put to work in some trade that took advantage of his considerable skills and education.

After crossing the Atlantic and arriving in Virginia, Hellier was delivered to Lewis Conner. Connor owned a huge estate, which he amassed by taking advantage of a Virginia law that granted 50 acres to anyone who paid for the overseas passage of a servant. Conner would import servants, collect the land rights, and then sell them to someone else for an additional profit. In this way he acquired 1,280 acres in Nansemond County, and by 1704 he owned 2,200 acres in Norfolk County, the third largest total owned by one person.

Connor sold Hellier to Cutbeard Williamson, a small-to-middling planter, who promised Hellier that he would serve as the teacher to his children and not have to perform “laborious work” unless absolutely necessary. But there was one problem. Williamson and his wife did not have any children.

As soon as Hellier arrived at Hard Labour, the name of Williamson’s plantation, he was handed a hoe and sent out into the tobacco fields. Hellier tried to make the best of the situation, but he regularly received verbal abuse from Williamson’s wife,

who would not only rail, swear and curse at me within doors, whenever I came into the house, casting on me continually biting Taunts and bitter Flouts; but like a live Ghost would impertinently haunt me, when I was quiet in the Ground at work. And although I silently wrought as fast as she rail’d, plying my labour, without so much as muttering at her, or answering any thing good or bad; yet all the silence and observance that I could use, would not charm her vile tongue.

Unable to take such treatment any longer, Hellier ran away from the plantation and hid in a ship.

“I could not contain my self”

Thomas Hellier was born in 1650 in Dorsetshire, England. He attended school up until the age of 15 or 16, when he was bound as an apprentice to a barber-surgeon. During this time, his master’s son also taught Hellier how to be a stationer (i.e., a bookseller or someone involved in the book trade). Hellier gained his freedom after six years when his master died, and he soon afterward inherited 50 acres of land from his grandfather. He got married and had a daughter, and all would have gone well, except, as he later confessed, “I could not contain my self within the due bounds of Sobriety and Moderation.”

In 1673 or 74, Hellier cheated his father out of 12 pounds and without the knowledge of his family took the money to London with the aim of rising up in the world. He took out loans to set up a business as a barber-surgeon and stationer, but instead of tending to his business, he spent most of his time in taverns buying drinks for the high company he kept. Meanwhile, his debts continued to accumulate as he became “notoriously addicted to Cursing and Swearing” and “profaning the Sabbath.”

Hellier left London without ever paying his debts and went back to the country. But he continued his profligate ways, and in time local creditors claimed the cattle on his estate and then the estate itself. As a result, his wife and family all began to distance themselves from him. Fearing that he would end up in debtor’s prison, Hellier fled to London, where he signed on to become a surgeon on a ship with a German captain who possessed a French privateer commission. But before they could cast off, the captain was arrested and accused of being a pirate.

With no money for food, Hellier had no choice but to sell his clothes. Now at the end of his rope, he signed a contract to become an indentured servant in Virginia.

Back Home

After running away from the Hard Labour plantation, Hellier remained hidden for three weeks before Williamson discovered his whereabouts. As punishment, Hellier was subject to six weeks being added on to his term as a servant and to having his curly, dark brown hair cut close to his head to mark him as a former runaway.

Not surprisingly, Hellier’s mistress with “her odious and inveterate Tongue” treated him worse than before. All Hellier could do was think about escaping the “Hell upon Earth” that he was in. Running away did not work, so he came up with another plan.

In the early morning of May 24, 1678, Hellier put on his best clothes and got his ax. After mustering his courage two or three times, he rushed in to the bedroom of his master. In fright, the maid who regularly slept in the same room grabbed her bedroll and ran out. Hellier went straight for Williamson’s bed, raised the ax, and brought it down several times on what he presumed to be his master’s head.

Williamson’s wife jumped out of bed and grabbed a chair in an attempt to defend herself, but Hellier easily thrust it aside. She begged him to spare her life and said that he could take anything he wanted and leave the plantation. But the offer from his “greatest Enemy” did not satisfy him, “so down she went without Mercy.” When the maid heard her mistress in trouble, she returned to the room, and even though he initially had no plans to hurt her, she felt the blade of his ax as well. But unlike the other two, she survived the attack and ended up dying one or two days later.

Hellier broke open a closet, grabbed provisions, and loaded them onto a horse. With his master’s gun in hand, he headed off to enjoy the freedom from Hard Labour that he had so desired.

In the Woods

In working his way through the complicated woods and twisting waterways of the Virginia countryside, Hellier became lost. After wandering all day and night, he spotted a plantation where he knew one of the servants. He found the man and asked him the way to the James River. The servant pleaded ignorance, but said that he would go ask someone else. The master’s son shortly appeared and, most likely recognizing Hellier as a runaway by his short hair, asked him to come into the house for breakfast. Hellier declined the offer. The master’s son-in-law also showed up and asked Hellier to join the two in smoking some tobacco, which Hellier again turned down.

The two men finally agreed to show Hellier the way to the river and began walking with him, one in front and the other behind. They led Hellier to some water, and as they were passing through it, one of them seized the gun Hellier had been clutching and emptied it by firing a shot in the air. Hearing the blast, the master ran down, and the three men bound Hellier’s hands and took him to the Justice of the Peace.

Hellier was tried in Jamestown on July 26, 1678 and found guilty of the bloody crime. While Hellier waited in prison for his execution day, he recounted his life to a minister, who at Hellier’s request took the story back to England and published it. In the autobiography, Hellier refuted the belief by some that he had been transported to Virginia as a highwayman by maintaining that he never abused anyone on the English highways, except “one pittiful Beggar.” Hellier was traveling when he was approached by the beggar and figured that the poor-looking man had more money in his pocket than he did. He tricked the beggar into handing over some of his money and when the man demanded it back, Hellier justified keeping it by saying “I had little Money, and a great way to ride; but he could beg for more Money, I could not.”

At the Gallows

On August 5, 1678, like most convicts who were about to be executed in the 17th century, Hellier gave a speech to the crowd that gathered at the gallows. Hellier confessed his crime and asked God for forgiveness, but he also underhandedly took the opportunity to chastise Virginia planters.

Hellier admitted in his speech that he had been guilty of profaning the Sabbath, but he also wished aloud that such a practice were not as common as it was in Virginia, where masters regularly compelled servants to perform work on Sunday. He also confessed to committing the sins of cursing and swearing, but he pointed out that in Virginia he often heard children mimic their fathers and mothers in doing the same. Even more, he complained, masters regularly use such language against their servants: “They are not Dogs,” Hellier proclaimed, “who are professed Christians, and bear Gods Image; happily they are as good Christians as your selves, and as well bred and educated, though through Poverty they are forced to seek Christianity under thy roof; where they usually find nothing but Tyranny.”

After Hellier was executed, his body was hung in chains at Windmill Point on the James River as a warning to indentured servants not to defy their masters.

Sources

• Breen, T. H., James H. Lewis, and Keith Schlesinger. “Motive for Murder: A Servant’s Life in Virginia, 1678.” The William and Mary Quarterly, Third series, 40:1 (Jan. 1983), 106-120.
• The Vain Prodigal Life, and Tragical Penitent DEATH of Thomas Hellier. London: Sam. Crouch, 1680. Database: Eighteenth Century Collections Online: ProQuest.

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When Mrs. Clark refused to let Moses Paul, a Native American, “have a dram” at Clark’s Tavern in Bethany, CT on a Saturday night, he was incensed. He became so disorderly, in fact, that he was forcibly removed from the tavern, but not before he vowed to exact revenge.

Not long after the disturbance, Moses Cook, who was staying at the tavern as a lodger, stepped outside. Paul, who had been lying in wait, ambushed Cook and hit him on the head with a flat iron. The blow broke Cook’s “scull in so terrible a manner, that he died of the wound.” Paul was apprehended the next day and thrown in the New Haven jail to await trial.

This account of the altercation that took place that Saturday night on December 7, 1771 served as the basis for finding Moses Paul guilty of willful murder. But court records of Paul’s attempt to appeal the judgment reveal that a much different set of events possibly took place on that fateful night.

The Life of Moses Paul

Paul was born in Barnstable, MA in 1742. His father died in the Siege of Louisburg in 1745, and his mother died not long afterward. Paul’s only memory of her was that she regularly attended church services at the Presbyterian Meeting House.

At age five, Paul was bound as an apprentice to John Manning of Windham, who saw that Paul was taught to read and write and was instructed in Christian principles. Paul left the Manning family six or seven years later and followed in his father’s footsteps by joining the army.

While in the army, Paul “contracted many sinful Habits,” habits that were reinforced when he left the army and became a merchant sailor. He spent several years at sea and then retired to Connecticut. He tended to move from place to place, though, and in September 1771, he ended up in Waterbury. During this time, he “liv’d in a very unsteady Way, often getting intoxicated with strong Drink, and following other dissolute Practices.”

In Clark’s Tavern

Moses Paul’s presence in Clark’s Tavern was not unusual. In 1669, Connecticut outlawed the sale of liquor to Native Americans, but the law was essentially ignored. Native American men and women regularly drank in taverns and socialized with Anglo-American clientele. But even though colonial Americans generally believed that the evil of drunkenness was universal, they also thought that Native Americans in particular could turn to violence and murder after consuming any amount of alcohol.

Paul had been drinking in the tavern before Mrs. Clark refused to serve him. In court records related to his appeal, Paul admitted that he let his anger over not being served get the better of him, but he maintained that his response was not alcohol-induced. He said his reaction stemmed from the belief that he had just as much right to be served as anyone else in the tavern and that the keepers actually owed him money.

When Paul started to put up a fuss, Moses Cook stepped into the situation and reprimanded Paul “in a most threatening imperious manner.” Cook began to force Paul out the door and in the process tied Paul’s legs up with one end of a rope and used the other end to beat him. Once outside, Cook threw the Native American eight-feet down a steep bank into a pile of snow and left him there. After about fifteen minutes, Cook returned with a whip and continued his assault, yelling at Paul to get up and calling him a “Drunken Dogg.”

After the beating, Paul asked to enter the tavern to retrieve some clothing he had left behind. Once he was inside, Cook continued to abuse Paul and shouted to one of the patrons, “Give me your Cane and I’ll still the Dogg!” When Paul saw Cook coming at him with the cane, he quickly grabbed a “Stick or Club which he then saw lying in his way”–not a flat iron, as was claimed in court during his conviction–and struck Cook in an act of self-defense. Paul later admitted that he used some “Vile, Threatening Language” while he was being beaten, but he insisted that he never intended to commit murder.

Appeal

As part of his appeal, Paul claimed that his trial occurred too close to when the event took place, when emotions were still running high, and that he was never given an opportunity to present his side of the story. He hoped that his verdict would be downgraded to manslaughter rather than willful murder, which would result in a punishment of branding rather than death. But the New Haven Superior Court denied Paul’s appeal.

Rev. Samson Occom

With his execution set to move forward, Paul selected fellow Native American Rev. Samson Occom to give the execution sermon. Occom was educated at Eleazar Wheelock’s Indian Charity School in Lebanon, CT and as a minister was a minor celebrity given his ethnic background. (Occom raised a huge sum of money for Wheelock’s school by giving sermons and collecting donations throughout England and Scotland, but he cut ties with the school when Wheelock used the money to move it to Hanover, NH to start educating whites for the ministry rather than Native Americans. The school later became Dartmouth College.)

The stormy weather on the day of Paul’s execution on September 2, 1772 was not enough to discourage a “very great Concourse of People” from showing up. It turns out the members of the crowd were just as curious to witness an execution in person–the last one that took place in New Haven was in 1749–as to hear a Native American conduct a sermon.

Paul’s execution marks the beginning of a stretch in time when Native American, African American, and foreign-born (mainly Irish) criminals were disproportionately executed in New England. Such bias appears to be at work as much today as it was then. As recently reported in the New York Times, a major study of murder sentencing by Stanford Law professor John Donohoe shows that minority defendants whose victims were white are far more likely to receive the death penalty than other defendants.

The First Native American Publication

After Paul’s execution, Occom was pressured to publish the sermon he gave on that day, and it was so successful that it appeared in multiple editions well into the early 19th century. The sermon is widely attributed as being the first published work by a Native American, although another publication connected with Paul’s execution –A Letter from J—h J—n, One of the Mohegan Tribe of Indians, to his Countryman, Moses Paul, Under Sentence of Death, in New-Haven Goal, which appeared on or before April 17, 1772–was most likely the first in this category.

However, a broadside was published and sold at Paul’s execution that purportedly put the sermon that Occom was about to give in verse. It is not clear whether Occom had any hand in its publication–the themes in the poem do not entirely match up with those in his public address–but if he did indeed write it, it would also supersede his sermon in what would qualify as the first Native American publication.

I.
MY Kindred Indians pray attend and hear,
With great Attention and with Godly Fear;
This Day I warn you of that cursed Sin,
That poor despised Indians wallow in.

II.
‘Tis Drunkennes, this is the Sin you know,
Has been and is poor Indians overthrow;
‘Twas Drunkennes that was the leading Cause,
That made poor Moses break God’s righteous Laws.

III.
When Drunk he other evil Courses took,
Thus hurried on, he murder’d Moses Cook;
Poor Moses Paul must now be hang’d this Day,
For willful Murder in a drunken Fray.

IV.
A dreadful Wo pronounc’d by God on high,
To all that in this Sin do lie;
O Devilish beastly Lust, accursed Sin,
Has almost stript us all of every Thing.

V.
We’ve nothing valuable or to our Praise,
And well may other Nations on us gaze;
We have no Money, Credit, or a Name,
But what this Sin does turn to our great Shame.

VI.
Mean are our Houses, and we are kept low,
And almost naked, shivering we go;
Pinch’d for Food and almost starv’d we are
And many times put up with stinking Fare.

VII.
Our little Children hovering round us weep,
Most starv’d to Death we’ve nought for them to eat;
All this Distress is justly on us come,
For the accursed use we make of Rum.

VIII.
A shocking dreadful Sight we often see,
Our Children young and tender, Drunkards be;
More shocking yet and awful to behold,
Our Women will get Drunk both young and old.

IX.
Behold a Drunkard in a Drunken Fit,
Incapable to go, stand, speak, or sit;
Deform’d in Soul and every other Part,
Affecting Sight! enough to melt one’s Heart.

X.
Sometimes he Laughs, and then a hideous Yell,
That almost equals the poor damn’d in Hell;
When drown’d in drink we know not what we do,
We are despis’d and scorn’d and cheated too.

XI.
On level with the Beasts, and far below
Are we when with strong Drink we reeling go;
Below the Devils when in this Sin we run,
A drunken Devil I never heard of one.

XII.
My kindred Indians, I intreat you all,
In this vile Sin never again to fall;
Fly to the Blood of CHRIST, for that alone
Can for this Sin and all your Sins atone.

XIII.
Tho’ Moses Paul is here alive and well,
This Night his Soul must be in Heaven or Hell;
O! do take Warning by this awful Sight,
And to a JESUS make a speedy Flight!

XIV.
You have no Lease of your short Time you know,
To Hell this Night you may be forc’d to go;
Oh! do embrace an offer’d CHRIST to Day,
And get a sealed Pardon while you may.

XV.
Behold a loving JESUS, see him Cry,
With earnestness of Soul, Why will ye die?
My kindred Indians come just as you be,
Then Christ and his Salvation you shall see.

XVI.
If you go on and still reject Christ’s Call,
‘Twill be too late his Curse will on you fall;
The Judge will doom you to that dreadful Place,
In Hell, where you shall never see his Face.

Sources

• Caplan, Lincoln. “The Random Horror of the Death Penalty.” The New York Times, January 7, 2012. Website: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/08/opinion/sunday/the-random-horror-of-the-death-penalty.html.
• Chamberlain, Ava. “The Execution of Moses Paul: A Story of Crime and Contact in Eighteenth-Century Connecticut.” The New England Quarterly 77:3 (Sept. 2004), 414-450.
• Cohen, Daniel A. Pillars of Salt, Monuments of Grace: New England Crime Literature And the Origins of American Popular Culture, 1674-1860. Boston: University of Massachusetts Press, 2006.
• Donohue, John. “Capital Punishment in Connecticut, 1973-2007: A Comprehensive Evaluation from 4686 Murders to One Execution.” Website: http://works.bepress.com/john_donohue/87/.
• [Johnson, Joseph]. A Letter from J—h J—n, One of the Mohegan Tribe of Indians, to his Countryman, Moses Paul, Under Sentence of Death, in New-Haven Goal. [New London, 1772]. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank.
• “New-Haven, Dec. 6.” Connecticut Gazette, December 20, 1771, vol. VIII, issue 423, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “New-Haven, Dec. 27.” Connecticut Journal, December 27, 1771, issue 219, p. 4. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “New-Haven, September 4.” Connecticut Journal, September 4, 1772, issue 255, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• New-Haven, September 2, 1772. A Short Account of Moses Paul. [New Haven, 1772]. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank.
• Occom, Samson. Mr. Occom’s Address to his Indian Brethren. Boston and Newport, [1773]. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank. A different edition is available on the website of the American Antiquarian Society: http://www.americanantiquarian.org/images/guidebook/nativeamerican/nativea-gb2.jpg.
• —. A Sermon Preached at the Execution of Moses Paul. Boston: John Boyles, 1773. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank.

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Daniel Wilson was confident he could escape from prison one more time. He was being held in the Providence jail after committing a rape back in December 1773 in Smithfield, RI. He had escaped from the jail twice before, although both times he was caught and returned. But he vowed to himself on this early Sunday morning in April that this time was going to be different.

For his most recent escape from prison, Wilson copied the pattern of the key that locked his cell door and passed it to some friends. They used the pattern to create a pewter key, which they slipped back to Wilson. After making a few adjustments, Wilson used the key to open his cell door and walked out. With his newfound freedom, he proceeded to steal ten pairs of shoes from Jabez Pearce and sold nine of them. He then stole a horse from Jonathan Cobb and rode to Connecticut. But an advertisement for his capture provided enough information to lead to his return to the Providence jail.

Wilson had incentive to escape from prison this third time: he was scheduled for execution. Wilson feverishly filed off a rivet that held together an iron loop that circled around his waist and was attached to a chain. From there, he broke out of his handcuffs and fetters and began to groan loudly. The jailor came up to his cell to find out what was wrong. Wilson claimed he was ill and needed immediate attention, but as soon as the jailor opened the door, Wilson pushed him aside, ran from the room, and jumped out a second-story window.

“I Followed My Trade with Diligence”

Wilson was born in Bellingham, MA on June 25, 1749. He could not recall committing any transgressions during his youth, except that he once stole some apples out of a hold in the ground from an African American. At 17, he left home to learn carpentry from Abraham Joslyn in Mendon. After working three years for Joslyn, Wilson set up his own carpentry business in Bellingham and claimed, “I followed my trade with diligence, and to good advantage.”

At 23, Wilson met John Arnold of Gloucester. Arnold had received ten dollars from a Dr. Wood from Uxbridge to help him scare away a rival doctor with the last name of Willard. Arnold convinced Wilson and another man to participate in the scheme by offering them equal shares in the money. Arnold’s plan was to go to Dr. Willard one night and tell him that a patient needed his help right away. Wilson and the other confederate were to wait in hiding and, when the doctor appeared, jump out and terrorize him. Willard showed up at the designated place, but the plan did not go as scripted because he was able to run away from the two ruffians.

Even though the scheme failed, Wilson and Arnold maintained their friendship, and it was during this time that Arnold convinced Wilson to become a horse thief. Wilson’s first couple tries at his new profession failed, but he finally found success in stealing a horse from Dr. Dagget of Wrentham. He briefly kept the horse at Arnold’s, and then rode far out to Springfield to exchange it for another one. But Wilson was arrested for the crime nonetheless. He was committed to the Boston jail, and after being held six weeks, he offered money to Dagget to settle the affair and was let go without any further punishment.

But Wilson continued his thieving ways by stealing another horse in Grafton. Once again he was detected but was able to smooth the matter over with money. Lacking success as a horse thief, Wilson turned to burglary. He broke into a shop on the border of Waltham and Watertown and took some silk, velvet, and other articles, along with eight or ten dollars in money.

It was after he carried out this burglary that Wilson committed the rape that earned him a death sentence. Wilson’s Life and Confession does not provide any details about the rape except that the evidence against him clearly convinced the jury of his guilt.

One Hundred Pound Reward

After Wilson jumped out the window of the Providence jail during his escape, the sheriff rounded up a posse from the town to pursue him. The Deputy-Governor also issued a proclamation that offered a reward of 100 pounds for Wilson’s capture. Two days later on Tuesday morning, the posse seized Wilson in Mendon. This time, Wilson was placed under round-the-clock military watch until the appointed time of his execution arrived on April 29, 1774.

Over twelve thousand people showed up to see Wilson executed, including a number of armed townspeople who joined the prison guard to provide added security. Earlier that morning, an alarm was set off throughout the town when word arrived from Smithfield that a mob from the surrounding area was expected to gather to rescue Wilson. But no rescue attempt ever materialized.

Accounts say that Wilson “behaved in a very decent manner” as he stood before the gallows. After an hour of ceremony, he was finally executed in front of the approving crowd. His body was later taken down and given to his friends for burial.

Sources

• Dialogue Between a Reverend Clergyman and Daniel Wilson. Boston: E. Russell, [1774]. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Providence, April 2.” Norwich Packet, April 7, 1774, vol. I, issue 27, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Providence, April 23.” Providence Gazette, April 23, 1774, vol. XI, issue 537, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Providence, April 30.” Providence Gazette, April 30, 1774, vol. XI, issue 538, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Providence, January 15.” Providence Gazette, January 15, 1774, vol. XI, issue 523, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• “Providence, March 12.” Providence Gazette, March 12, 1774, vol. XI, issue 531, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers, Readex/Newsbank.
• Wilson, Daniel. The Life and Confession of Daniel Wilson. [Providence?, 1774]. Database: America’s Historical Imprints, Readex/Newsbank.

In September 1766, Richard Hodges and John Newingham Clark were convicted by the Superior Court in Boston of breaking into a shop and stealing fifty pounds worth of goods. As punishment, they were each fined twenty pounds, ordered to pay triple damages, imprisoned for six months, and bound for good behavior for twelve months.

After their release from prison, it was not long before they were back in court. In April 1767, the two were tried and found guilty along with Magnus Mode of “Forging and making of Pewter and other mixed Metals sundry Pieces of false and counterfeit Money to the Likeness and Similitude of Spanish milled Dollars, Quarters of Dollars, and Pistareens.”

As punishment, each of them were ordered to stand in the pillory for one hour, to have one of their ears cropped, to be whipped 20 times on their naked back, and to spend one year at hard labor at the house of correction. Presumably, Hodges and Clark also lost their bondage for good behavior from their last transgression.

The three counterfeiters stood in the pillory in Charlestown, Boston on April 30, 1767. The following poetic broadside was published and sold at the event, and if the spectators did not already know what to expect from the spectacle, the poem provides some guidance.

(From American Memory, Library of Congress)

BEHOLD the villains rais’d on high!
(The Post they’ve got attracts the eye:)
Both Jews and Gentiles all appear
To see them stand exalted here;
Both rich and poor, both young and old,
The dirty slut, the common scold:
What multitudes do them surround,
Many as bad as can be found.
And to encrease their sad disgrace
Throw rotten eggs into their face,
And pelt them fore with dirt and stones,
Nay, if they could wou’d break their bones.
Their malice to such height arise,
Who knows but they’ll put out their eyes:
But pray consider what you do
While thus expos’d to public view.
Justice has often done its part,
And made the guilty rebels smart;
But they went on did still rebel,
And seem’d to storm the gates of hell.
To no good counsel would they hear;
But now each one must loose an EAR,
And they although against their will
Are forc’d to chew this bitter pill;
And this day brings the villains hence
To suffer for their late offense;
They on th’ Pillory stand in view:
A warning sirs to me and you!
The drunkards song, the harlots scorn,
Reproach of some as yet unborn.
But now the Post they’re forc’d to hug,
But loath to take that nauseous drug
Which brings the blood from out their veins
And marks their back with purple stains.

From their disgrace, now warning take,
And never do your ruin make
By stealing, or unlawful ways;
(If you would live out all your days)
But keep secure from Theft and Pride;
Strive to have virtue on your side.
Despise the harlot’s flattering airs,
And hate her ways, avoid her snares;
Keep clear from Sin of every kind,
And then you’ll have true peace of Mind.

Visit the Library of Congress’s American Memory website to see the original broadside.

Sources

• “Boston, May 4.” Boston Evening-Post, May 5, 1767, issue 1650, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers: Readex/Newsbank.
• Boston Post-Boy, September 15, 1766, issue 474, p. 3. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers: Readex/Newsbank.
• “Extract of a Letter.” Boston Evening-Post, April 27, 1767, issue 1649, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers: Readex/Newsbank.
• A Few Lines on Magnus Mode, Richard Hodges & J. Newington Clark. [Boston, 1767]. Database: An American Time Capsule: Three Centuries of Broadsides and Other Ephemera: American Memory, Library of Congress.

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It was love at first sight for Samuel Bellamy and Mary Hallett. According to local lore, when the two met on a spring evening in 1715 in a tavern in Eastham, MA on Cape Cod, they began to talk about marriage. But when Hallett’s wealthy parents put a stop to the plan when they learned of their daughter’s desire to marry a penniless sailor, Bellamy stormed off, vowing to make his fortune and then return to claim his lover.

Soon after Bellamy left, the legend continues, Hallett discovered she was pregnant, and later in the winter she was found in a barn holding a dead baby. As punishment, she was publicly whipped before being thrown in jail to await her trial for murder. While in prison she lost her mind and with the help of the Devil escaped. She then lived a hermit’s life, where she roamed the beaches, scared children, brewed up storms, and waited for her lover to return.

The love story of Bellamy and Hallett is far-fetched, but historians have verified that a Mary Hallett did live in Eastham in 1715. She was the daughter of a wealthy settler, and she died childless in 1751. Was she Samuel Bellamy’s lover? We do not know.

The Treasure Hunt

While the story of the two lovers may or may not be true, we do know that around this same time Bellamy met Paulsgrave Williams, a silversmith from an affluent and well-connected family. When the two young men learned that an armada of eleven Spanish ships transporting an enormous treasure had run into a hurricane off the coast of Florida–and that the precious cargo now littered the shallow shores just waiting for those with means to dive into the water and retrieve it–they recognized their opportunity to make their fortune. Williams secured a ship, and with Bellamy lending his seafaring expertise, the two headed south to join in the treasure hunt.

Bellamy and Williams spent a month down in Florida at the site of the wreck, but the most they could find were scattered coins and cargo. They needed to come up with a new plan. As they picked up and headed further south into the Caribbean, they decided that if they could not find treasure from ships lying on the ocean bottom, they would turn pirate and simply seize it from ships sitting above water.

The two aspiring pirates had no trouble finding sailors in the Caribbean who wanted to join them in their adventure. Eventually, they teamed up with Captain Benjamin Hornigold, the most successful pirate at the time. Hornigold was so impressed with Bellamy’s skills that he appointed him captain of one of his newly captured ships. Before long, they came across another pirate, Olivier La Buse, and the three teamed up to terrorize merchant ships carrying precious cargo back and forth between the New World and the Old.

After experiencing great success, the partnership eventually soured. Hornigold was unwilling to attack English vessels out of loyalty to his home country, whereas Bellamy and La Buse maintained that any ship of any nationality should be fair game. The disagreement was put up to a crew-wide vote–in deciding matters of policy on board pirate ships, democracy ruled–and two-thirds of the men sided with Bellamy and La Buse. Hornigold left humiliated with only 26 loyal men following him (including Edward Teach, who would later become known as “Blackbeard”). In time, Bellamy and his French partner also went their separate ways.

After Bellamy’s meteoric rise from being a poor sailor in Massachusetts to becoming a feared pirate captain, he was now in charge of 170 pirates, who had backgrounds as varied as English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh, Spanish, Dutch, Swedish, and African. Under his command, he had a medium-sized warship and a sloop-of-war, the Sultana and the Marianne, and with them he enjoyed great success in attacking merchant ships throughout the Caribbean. But his ascent had not yet reached its zenith, because he was about to increase his maritime arsenal substantially.

The Slave Ship

The Whydah was a newly built slave ship that could carry an enormous load of up to 700 slaves or the equivalent in cargo. It was also armed with 18 powerful cannons mounted on its sides with room for more. In February 1717, Captain Lawrence Prince was returning with it back to England after buying hundreds of slaves on the Slave Coast of the Gulf of Guinea, selling his human cargo in Jamaica, and then loading the ship back up with sugar, indigo, silver, and gold to take back to England.

Only a few days out on the final leg of his circular journey, Prince noticed that the Whydah had gained two shadows. Even though the two ships following him in the distance were flying the Union Jack, Prince was worried. He ordered his crew to put up more sails in an attempt to lose them.

The chase lasted three days until the Sultana and the Marianne finally pulled up alongside the Whydah. Despite all of his ship’s firepower, Prince got off only two shots at the attacking vessels. The threatening display of Bellamy and his crew waving cutlasses, muskets, and hand-made grenades was enough to scare Prince and his crew into submission. For the 30 to 50 Africans on board Bellamy’s ship–pirates who had willingly joined Bellamy after he raided in similar fashion the slave ships that were transporting them–the capture of this vessel must have been especially satisfying.

Now that the Whydah was in their possession, Bellamy’s crew transferred all of their valuable cargo and guns from the Sultana onto their new prize. They also removed any unwanted cargo from the Whydah and loaded it onto the Sultana. Bellamy gave his unwanted ship to Prince, along with an amount of gold worth a paltry 20 pounds, so that he and his crew could sail home.

Thomas Davis, a carpenter who had previously been forced to join the pirates, asked Bellamy if he could go with Prince, since the pirate captain had promised to release him at some point. But the pirate crew overruled Bellamy by voting to retain Davis on account of his valuable skills. Several of Prince’s men, in contrast, decided to stay with Bellamy rather than return home with their captain. Bellamy forced three other members of Prince’s crew to remain on his ship because they possessed special skills and were unmarried–Bellamy never forced a married man to join him.

Bellamy not only took possession of a state-of-the-art warship; the Whydah was also carrying a mind-blowing amount of treasure and gold valued between 20,000 and 30,000 pounds. The gold was counted out and divided into bags containing 50 pounds each in order to hand them out later as shares to the 180 men. The bags were kept unguarded in chests between decks, although no one was allowed to enter the hold without the Quarter Master present.

North

With the Whydah and the Marianne under his command, Bellamy now headed north, seizing and plundering dozens of ships along the way. At one point off the coast of the Carolinas, the pirates took a small sloop. The ship was too small to be of use to the pirates, so as Bellamy’s crew unloaded its cargo, they debated what to do with it. Bellamy and Williams were in favor of giving it back to its captain, but the crew voted otherwise.

Reluctantly, Bellamy called Captain Beer into his cabin to give him the bad news. “Damn my blood,” Bellamy said, “I am sorry they won’t let you have your sloop again, for I scorn to do anyone a mischief when it is not for my advantage. Damn the sloop, we must sink her and she might have been use to you.” With that, Bellamy’s crew set the ship on fire and rowed Beer over to the Marianne, so that Williams could eventually drop him off at Block Island.

Bellamy and Williams became separated before reaching Rhode Island. After dumping Captain Beer and his crew off, Williams hung around off the coast of Rhode Island and the mouth of Long Island Sound waiting for Bellamy to meet up with him. But Bellamy continued heading up toward Cape Cod. Local lore again says that Bellamy’s destination was Eastham, in order to show off his newfound wealth to the family of his sweetheart. Along the way, Bellamy captured the Mary Anne, which turned out to be carrying a large load of wine from Boston to New York. Bellamy put eight of his men in charge of the ship and looked forward to the wild drunk fest they would enjoy once they reached land.

Bellamy continued the journey with his new prize in tow, but dense fog began to roll in, and the two ships were soon separated as well. The pirates on board the Mary Anne made the most of the situation by breaking into the hold and starting to drink the wine. But the party was interrupted when they discovered that the ship was taking on water. As they assigned their captive crew the grueling task of manning the pumps, the sky blackened and the winds stiffened. It was not long before 30-foot waves started to batter the ship, and 70 mile per hour winds began to push it towards the coast of Cape Cod.

Despite the efforts of the crew to keep the ship away from shore, the bottom of the ship collided with the ocean floor. One of the pirates grabbed an ax and began chopping away at the masts to take them down and relieve the stress on the shattered hull. After two of the three masts fell, the pirates and the captive crew all huddled together in desperation to hear one of the literate men on the ship read from the Book of Common Prayer.

Daybreak

The pirates and sailors on the Mary Anne were relieved when daybreak arrived. The ship ran aground on a small island south of Eastham, and it being low tide they could actually jump down from the ship onto dry ground. The pirates picked up at the point where they were so rudely interrupted by continuing to drink down the wine that survived the storm.

Ten miles to the north, Bellamy and his crew were not nearly so lucky. The mighty Whydah turned out to be no match for the violent waters, which smashed the ship up against the shoreline. The ship’s canons came loose, the main mast came crashing down, and the hull broke apart and emptied its contents, including the men and the treasure, into the sea. In the end, only two of the pirates on board the Whydah made it safely to shore: John Julian, a Mosquito Indian, and Thomas Davis, the carpenter who requested to leave the pirates when the Whydah was captured. Everyone else, including Bellamy, perished.

At ten o’clock in the morning, two local men, John Cole and William Smith, spotted the wreck of the Mary Anne and rowed over to the island to help transport the crew back to the mainland. While the pirates argued in front of Cole and Smith over what they should do next, one of them blurted out that they were members of Sam Bellamy’s pirate crew. Realizing the error, the men gathered up their things and moved on.

Cole ran straight to the authorities, and the seven pirates were picked up in the Eastham Tavern and thrown in jail at Barnstable.

Treasure Grab

News of the shipwrecks continued to spread. Massachusetts Governor Samuel Shute tried to act quickly to prevent looting and recover as much of the pirate treasure for the Crown as he could. He issued a proclamation ordering people to turn over to the state any escaped pirates and any treasure, goods, or merchandise from the wreckage. He then sent Cyprian Southack, a cartographer and sea captain, to the site of the Whydah’s wreck to oversee the recovery.

Southack arrived at the scene only to discover 200 people already combing the beach and carting off whatever fragments of the wreckage they could find among the hundred plus battered corpses strewn across the beach. It being low tide, he could spot the anchor of the Whydah out in the water, but the rainy weather and rough seas prevented him from finding any of the supposed treasure that might have been buried in the sea.

Southack issued a public demand for the return of any items that people took from the wreck, but he only received what amounted to 200 pounds worth. The rest of the ship’s loot either made it into the hands of individuals or remained at the bottom of the ocean. Southack marked the location of the shipwreck on one of his maps and moved on. About two months later, two anchors, two great guns, and other items recovered from the wreckage of the Whydah were auctioned off at the Crown Coffeehouse in Boston.

Trial

Governor Shute ordered the seven pirates being held in Barnstable to be transferred to Boston, where they were put in the same prison where Captain Kidd was held back in 1699 (at what is now 26 Court Street). The two sole survivors of the Whydah were also picked up and placed in prison with the others. Julian’s stay there was not long. Due to his dark skin, he was sold off as a slave. In this case, his fate turned out to be a blessing, because the rest of his crewmates were about to face trial for piracy.

26 Court Street, Boston - Site of Boston Prison

The view of the Old State House from the site of Boston Prison

The eight remaining pirates were tried at what is now the Old State House near Faneuil Hall, right down the street from the Boston Prison. The seven pirates aboard the Mary Anne were tried together first. They were all found guilty and sentenced to death except for one, a carpenter named Thomas South, who convinced the court that the pirates forced him to join their crew. Thomas Davis from the Whydah was tried separately and was also found not guilty for the same reason. When the two men each heard the verdict in their favor, they dropped to their knees and thanked the Court.

The famous New England minister, Cotton Mather, visited the six remaining pirates in prison, and on November 15, 1717, he accompanied them to the Charles River ferry landing, where a large crowd gathered to witness their execution. According to Mather, the pirates showed consternation and penitence for their actions as they stood on the scaffold. One of the pirates made a short speech, “which every body trembled at,” warning the sailors in the crowd not to repeat his wicked living and to avoid if at all possible falling into the hands of pirates. Mather noted, to his chagrin, that his speech was riddled with salty language.

Mather later published the conversations he had with the pirates about salvation and other religious matters, although the dialogue he supposedly reproduces show the pirates to be more devout than can be believed. He also included the sermon he delivered on the occasion of their execution entitled, “Warnings to Them That Make Haste To Be Rich.”

Epilogue

Paulsgrave Williams, who rode out the storm in safety near Rhode Island, eventually learned of Bellamy’s fate. He reluctantly turned around and headed south to Nassau to spread the news about what had happened to other pirates. He continued to capture and loot ships along the way.

When word reached Blackbeard that Massachusetts had hanged six members of Bellamy’s crew, he was furious. In revenge, he burned one of the ships he captured “because she belonged to Boston alledging the People of Boston had hanged some of the pirates.” He then vowed to disrupt and destroy as much British shipping as he could.

Bellamy’s ship remained underwater and undiscovered until 1984, when undersea explorer Barry Clifford found the wreckage by using Southack’s map to help him find it. To date, the Whydah remains the only positively-identified pirate shipwreck ever to be discovered. Over 200,000 pieces have been found over the course of the Whydah recovery project, including the ship’s bell, which has an inscription that confirmed the ship’s identity. The value of the recovered treasure, though, resides more in the information it has given to us about pirates and their lives than in actual monetary riches.

Sources

[Advertisement]. Boston News-Letter, From Monday July 22, to Monday July 29, 1717, issue, 693, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers: Readex/Newsbank.

“Advertisements.” Boston News-Letter, From Monday June 10, to Monday June 17, 1717, issue 687, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers: Readex/Newsbank.

“Boston.” Boston News-Letter, From Monday April 29, to Monday May 6, 1717, issue 681, p. 2. Database: America’s Historical Newspapers: Readex/Newsbank.

Dow, George Francis and John Henry Edmonds. The Pirates of the New England Coast 1630-1730. New York: Dover Publications, 1923 reprint.

“Education Through Exploration.” The Whydah Pirate Museum. Website: http://whydah.com/barry-clifford-biography.pdf.

[Mather, Cotton]. Instructions to the Living, from the Condition of the Dead. Boston: John Allen for Nicholas Boone, 1717. Database: America’s Historical Imprints: Readex/Newsbank.

Rediker, Marcus. Villains of All Nations: Atlantic Pirates in the Golden Age. Boston: Beacon Press, 2004.

The Trials of Eight Persons Indited for Piracy &c. Boston: B. Green for John Edwards, 1718. Database: America’s Historical Imprints: Readex/Newsbank.

Webster, Donovan. “Pirates of the Whydah.” National Geographic Magazine, May 1999. Website: http://www.nationalgeographic.com/whydah/story.html.

Woodard, Colin. The Republic of Pirates: Being the True and Surprising Story of the Caribbean Pirates and the Man Who Brought Them Down. New York: Harcourt, 2007.

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The Early American Crime blog is now available on Kindle. So in addition to reading my new book, Bound with an Iron Chain: The Untold Story of How the British Transported 50,000 Convicts to Colonial America, on your Kindle, you can subscribe to Early American Crime and have updates delivered to you automatically.

For some reason, a subscription is currently not available on the Kindle Fire, but I am guessing that Amazon will eventually make blog subscriptions compatible for this device as well.

I want to thank everyone who submitted suggestions for the list: I read some of the books already, and I look forward to reading those I haven’t.

1. Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson (2003)
   This book continues to show up on bestseller lists–and for good reason. Larson masterfully weaves together an account of how architects and city planners designed the spectacular 1893 Columbian Exposition with the gripping tale of a serial killer who used the fair to lure his victims. If you have not read it yet, you should.
2. A Pickpocket’s Tale: The Underworld of Nineteenth-Century New York by Timothy J. Gilfoyle (2006)
   Gilfoyle uses the surprisingly detailed autobiography of George Appo–a petty thief who grew up in the notorious Five Points area–to organize his history of New York City’s underworld and criminal justice system in the nineteenth century.
3. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison by Michel Foucault (English translation, 1979)
   Foucault’s book has shaped most modern studies of prisons and in many ways is responsible for sparking current interest in the history of crime and punishment at American universities. If you can get past the opening description of a man being drawn and quartered, you will find it to be one of Foucault’s more accessible works.
4. Jesse James: Last Rebel of the Civil War by T. J. Stiles (2002)
   Most accounts of Jesse James romanticize his life by portraying him as a care-free train-robber and product of the Wild West. Stiles, in contrast, connects the actions of James and his gang to groups of Southerners who refused to accept the outcome of the Civil War. The result is a picture of a bad man who did very bad things.
5. Ponzi’s Scheme: The True Story of a Financial Legend by Mitchell Zuckoff (2006)
   Scams involving “robbing Peter to pay Paul” existed before Charles Ponzi came up with the idea of paying back investors in his fictional company by using the funds of new investors. But Ponzi’s scheme grew to such a scale that his name now serves as the standard term for such financial shenanigans. After the Madoff scandal and the irresponsible, if not criminal, actions of big financial institutions that led to our current recession, it is hard to pass up placing a book like this one on the list.
6. Pillars of Salt, Monuments of Grace: New England Crime Literature and the Origins of American Popular Culture, 1674-1860 by Daniel A. Cohen (2006)
   Much of what we know about early American crime comes from New England due to the relatively large number of printers in the area who published works about crime and criminals. Cohen traces the birth and development of New England crime literature, which is the early forerunner of the popular True Crime genre of today.
7. American Homicide by Randolph Roth (2009)
   Along with official murder statistics, Roth and his research team tracked down every instance of murder mentioned in newspapers and other media sources in compiling data for this mammoth study of American homicide. The result is the most comprehensive examination of murder trends over time that we have. The importance of the book and the insights it provides overshadows the at times dry academic presentation of the material.
8. The Pirate Hunter: The True Story of Captain Kidd by Richard Zacks (2002)
   We do not normally think of pirates as criminals today–they seem to inhabit their own special category–but the people of early America certainly did. Zacks defends the reputation of Captain Kidd by arguing that he was not a pirate, but in making his case he presents an entertaining history of piracy.
9. The Hanging Tree: Execution and the English People, 1770-1868 by V. A. C. Gatrell (1996)
   Executions were public affairs in England up until 1868, and sometimes thousands of people showed up to watch them. Gatrell explores how people responded to public executions by examining diaries, broadsides, images, and literature. The results are sometimes chilling.
10. The Oxford History of the Prison: The Practice of Punishment in Western Society edited by Norval Morris and David J. Rothman (1998)
    This collection of essays covers prisons in the Ancient World up to the present and addresses topics as diverse as juvenile reform schools, prisons for women, and the convict colony of Australia. Together, the essays demonstrate that locking someone up in a confined space is no simple matter.