The Seafaring Merchantman.

It's a painting which shows a pirate ship atta...
It’s a painting which shows a pirate ship attacking a merchants’s ship. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The lilacs were in bloom and drifted out and mixed with the salt water when I first laid eyes on that great lady the Queen Elizabeth. She was a three-masted schooner, out of Nantucket. Her make was English and she had English backers, but she’d been made here in the New England colonies and had an American crew.

Our course would take us down the coast to pick up a cargo of cotton, then we’d go out across the wide Atlantic to Lisbon in Portugal. The trip was planned for three months, with a bonus to each man if we could complete the run faster.

We’d picked up our cotton and were on our way out into the open sea when we first saw the sail. It was Spanish at first, but was changed as we watched to the crimson flag of piracy.

It set off a great debate among the crew. Should we fight, flee, or surrender? Not knowing the pirates, we had to make a decision. Some pirates took no prisoners, and would kill us to a man. Others would make us partners in crime, making us sign their bloody charter.  Still others would put us off at the nearest port and sail off with the ship.

The debate was all the fiercer because the captain refused to rule one way or the other and the pirate ship grew ever closer. Being full of cotton, we assumed the pirate ship would overtake us rapidly, but it seemed now that they were low in the water and damaged in some way. Even with our full cargo, we were holding steady.

A damaged ship meant the pirates meant to take our ship for certain. Many times they would simply strip the ship and leave us to limp back to harbor to re-outfit at great expense, but these were in need of a new ship. That left us as unnecessary crew, and likely fish food by day’s end.

With that in our minds, we made sail and began to draw away from the pirate ship. She opened fire, and had six guns on the side, but all her shots fell short.  We had only six guns for the whole of the ship, three on each side, but we returned fire.

The pirates began to drop behind, turning and firing without success.  We were congratulating ourselves on our narrow escape when the wind died down to a mere breeze. Behind us, the pirates pulled out their oars and began rowing toward us.  There must have been sixty men on that small boat, and they shouted as they came.

We put to our oars as well, though there were but twelve of us.  We rowed as if our very lives depended on it, which in truth it did.  Two of our number primed the cannon, and we’d turn from time to time and volley at the pirate ship before returning to the oars. We did some damage, and they’d fire back at us.  One cannon ball sailed so close to me I could hear the whistle it made.  Neither one of us did crippling damage, and the pirates pulled ever closer.

Night fell, and we could hear the calls of the pirates over the water as they called out support to one another.  We fired one last volley and caught some of them, for there were screams and curses.  They responded and we could hear the balls hit the water all around us.

It was a battle we could not win, and yet we rowed for all we were worth.  Then around two in the morning, when we could see their torches clearly, the wind picked up again.  We leapt to the rigging and sent her plowing over the water.  Behind us, the pirates shouted and cursed, firing one last volley as we outdistanced them on the open water.

We made the trip to Lisbon, and only when we unloaded the cotton did we find how lucky we had been. The merchants complained that the cotton was full of sea water, and as they removed the cargo the water began to pour into our ship.  We had to hoist her up in dry dock for repairs.  The pirates had holed us three times below our waterline, but the cotton had absorbed the water and swollen to block the ocean from flooding in.

Since that time I have always felt safe when transporting cotton, for if I were to encounter pirates, I do not think they could sink me.


2 Replies to “The Seafaring Merchantman.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s