the honest industrious Dutchman the victim.
Thus, in seventeen hundred and sixty-eight,
a band of daring fellows, hovering on the Kent
and Sussex shores, defied for a long period all
attempts to catch them. Making the port of
Hastings their rendezvous, they boarded and
robbed numbers of ships coming up Channel,
and lived for seven years wholly upon the
fruit of their depredations. At length the
ruffians, encountering a large richly-freighted
Dutch ship that offered unusual resistance,
murdered the whole crew and burned the vessel;
after which, they returned to Hastings to
dispose of the plunder and enjoy themselves.
Fortunately, one of the miscreants was overheard
jesting with a comrade, respecting the
entertaining manner in which one of the murdered
Dutchmen " wriggled" about, after having his
backbone nearly severed with an axe. Information
was forwarded to the authorities in London,
who despatched a strong party of military to
Hastings, while a vessel of war anchored in
the roadstead.

On the day following the arrival of the
soldiers, which had been managed with great
secresy, the mayor was openly accosted by one
of the pirate gang, who demanded the meaning
of the war-ship's appearance, and the rumour of
the arrival of military. His worship, refusing
explanation, was instantly set upon by his
questioner, and by others of the band who had been
lurking near; but some soldiers opportunely
arriving, a fight ensued, resulting in the capture
of the pirates, who, with other of their associates
subsequently taken, were sent to London and
lodged in the Marshalsea.

In seventeen hundred and twenty-nine
occurred the singular case of John Smith, whose
real name was Gow. This worthy sailed as
mate in the George, from a Scotch haven. The
crew consisted of twenty-four. At the head of
eight of these, Gow rose one night upon the
officers, murdered the captain, surgeon, chief
mate, and supercargo, and, hoisting the black
flag, steered for Spain. Four more of the crew
had voluntarily cast in their lot with them; the
rest were retained to do the harder work of the
ship and treated with extreme cruelty. They
had a tolerably successful cruise, but, having
become somewhat notorious in that locality, it
became advisable to shift the scene, and Gow
accordingly steered for the Orkneys. While
lying at anchor in a secluded bay, one of the
crew, who had been detained against his will,
escaped, and hastening to Kirkwall, alarmed
the authorities. Ten more of the dissatisfied
crew departed in the long-boat. In spite of
these ominous circumstances, the daring leader
not only did not put to sea, but organised a land
expedition, in which they plundered the house
of Mr. High-Sheriff Honeymar of all that was
portable: compelling that gentleman's piper to
head the return procession, playing a triumphal
march.

From hence, Gow proceeded to call upon (and
plunder) an old friend and schoolfellow, Mr.
Fea, who resided at the small adjacent island,
Calf Sound. Mr. Fea was a man of courage and
discretion. By the joint exercise of these
qualities, he not only made prisoners of the party
sent ashore, but ultimately of the whole of the
dangerous and desperate band, twenty-eight in
number. Gow, and six others, suffered at Execution
Dock; the former's case being rendered
more notable by his obstinate refusal to plead.
However, when on the point of being pressed to
death, he relented, and was convicted with the
rest.

Among the last ot the "gentlemen of
fortune" who courted that goddess's favour in
British waters, was Mr. George Wood, who
sailed from Bristol in seventeen hundred and
sixty-nine, in the Black Prince. They were
barely at sea before the crew mutinied, made the
officers prisoners, and were debating as to the
mode in which they should be put to death,
when the earnest entreaties of the victims
induced them to consent that they should be
simply turned adrift in a small boat, slenderly
provisioned. After doing this at such a distance
from land that the unfortunate men set adrift were
never heard of again, the pirates hoisted the
black flag and sailed for Brazil, making prizes in
their way. While in port, one of their company
fell under the suspicion of a purpose to run
away: whereupon a regular court-martial was
held and the culprit sentenced to be hanged at
the yard-arm, the execution being deferred only
long enough to enable the exemplary captain to
read a long printed sermon to the condemned.

It was reserved for a brutal miscreant, named
Philip Roche, to cap the horrors of modern
piracy. This man, residing at Cork, resolved to
turn sea-robber, and, drawing one Neal, a fisherman,
two brothers, Cullen, and a man named
Wise, into a confederacy, took passage with
them in a French vessel about to sail for Nantz.
Roche was himself so able a sailor, that he
was frequently allowed to take charge of the
ship. One dark November night— the master
and mate being both asleep in their cabin—
Roche and his accomplices seized and murdered
the four Frenchmen left on deck; not, however,
without resistance; Roche himself declaring, in his
subsequent confession, that they were "all over wet
with blood, as if they had been dipped in water.
Nor did they regard it more." The poor master
and mate, alarmed, and hastening on deck, were
seized, tied back to back, and thrown into the
sea.

Roche now steered for Lisbon; but meeting
with very bad weather, ran back, and put into
Dartmouth, where he hired three more hands,
and sailed again for Rotterdam. Here a gentleman,
named Annesley, freighted and took
passage in their vessel to England; but on the
way, in a rude and stormy night, " it being very
dark, they took up their passenger, and flung
him overboard— who swam about the ship a
pretty while, calling out for life, and telling
them they should have all his goods for ransom,
but in vain." Roche was shortly afterwards
taken, and immediately proposed to turn
evidence, promising to convict three others, " worse