When we read of pirates today, we think of southern seas and tropic isles ; but the dreaded black flag fluttered over our own peaceful New England waters two hundred years ago.
In 1704 some of the crew of the pirate Quelch even dared to land in Gloucester, but they were caught and carried to Salem Jail. Their master was captured elsewhere and hanged a few days later.
When danger from pirates was' added to that from hostile French and Indians, it is not strange that Gloucester people took measures to protect the town. Guards were stationed at two watch-houses early in 1705. One of these houses was probably at or near the place which we now call "The Fort," for that locality was given the name of "Watch-house Neck." It is not known that pirates landed in our town again. However, now and then they came into the neighborhood.
In 1717 a pirate-ship of twenty-three guns, with 130 men under Samuel Bellamy, captured several vessels off Cape Cod. One of the prizes, however, was retaken with seven of the pirate crew on board. Soon after, Bellamy's own ship was wrecked on Cape Cod and nearly all of his men were drowned. Six of the buccaneers, very likely some of the captured prize crew, were hanged at Boston.
In August, 1723, another noted pirate, Phillips by name, began seizing vessels off our coast. In less than eight months' time thirty-four luckless craft had fallen prey to his savage gang. The crews who were not killed outright were beaten and abused and forced to labor for the pirates on board their filthy ships. Such unfortunates were called "forced men."
Meanwhile, at Annisquam, there was building a neat little sloop which was destined to be the death of Phillips and his cruel comrades. To be sure, she was meant to catch fish instead of pirates ; and neither John Haraden, her owner, nor Andrew, his son, who was to sail her, dreamed of what "The Squirrel" was about to do. They were anxious because April had come. They feared the fishing season would be over before the sloop was finished off inside in every detail. It seemed a pity to lose a good catch of fish for the sake of a little carpentering which could be done later. And so, "The Squirrel" went out on her very first trip, with the crew hammering away at the finishing touches whenever they could get a chance.
Probably Haraden supposed the pirates to be cruising at a safe distance; for, when last heard of, Phillips was at Cape Sable. But, almost before the startled fishermen knew what was happening, the robber horde was swarming over the rail of "The Squirrel." The sloop was so neat and new, the smell of fresh chips and shavings so much sweeter than the greasy, blood-stained deck of the pirate-ship, that Phillips left his gruesome vessel and flew the skull and cross-bones from the dainty mast of his latest prize.
Because the carpentering was not yet completed, Haraden and his crew were spared to work at that; otherwise they would, in all probability, have been made to walk the plank. It was hard for the Annisquam men to see such vile wretches swaggering about on the deck that had once been so clean and peaceful, but they went on with their hammering and planing as calmly as they could. Now and then they contrived to whisper to one another and, with the help of a forced man named John Philmore, whom Phillips had captured from a Gloucester schooner commanded by Mark Haskell some months before, they made a plan to get rid of the pirates.
Haraden's father had some pieces of armor at home. Andrew may have wished that they were on board the sloop; but he and his crew must use what weapons lay at hand—the ship-carpenter's tools ! And use them they did.
At the hour agreed upon, twelve o'clock on April 18th, (one historian says it was midnight; if so, it was just at the time when Paul Revere was to start upon his ride 51 years later), before John Nott, a leading pirate, could unsheathe his sword, the strong arms of Edward Cheeseman, one of the forced men, had grasped his and tossed him into the sea without waiting to find a plank for him to walk.
At the same moment the tools came into play. Phillips, the master pirate, fell beneath an adze swung by Andrew Hamden. Burrell, the boatswain, was killed by a broad-axe. James Sparks, the gunner, was thrown overboard to keep Nott company, and the rest of the pirates were so cowed that they surrendered themselves prisoners to the plucky fishermen. It was a victory of the vanquished.
There must have been great rejoicing when the recaptured "Squirrel" and her brave crew put about for home. The heads of Phillips and Burrell were brought along as trophies, and one or both were dangling from the masthead of the sloop as she sailed proudly into Annisquam.
When the prisoners were tried at Boston, some of them were found to be forced men and were set free; but two were proved guilty of piracy and were executed at Charlestown Ferry under the black flag which had flown above so many of their crimes. It is supposed that the bodies of Phillips and Burrell were hung from a mock gallows on Hangman's Island, an islet in Annisquam River, over which now run the tracks of the Boston and Maine Railroad'
Haraden and his crew were well rewarded by the General Court for the important service they had rendered. But, as the brave Andrew died the next December, he could not have realized how very great was that service, nor how far-reaching its results were to be. Not only was the New England coast freed from pirates forever, but John Philmore, the forced man who doubtless owed his life to "The Squirrel" and her men, was, according to the historian Babson, the great-grandfather of Millard Fillmore, the thirteenth President of the United States.
MARY BROOKS.