12/22/03

  The island of Johanna. Visit with the Sultan. Exploring the pirate stronghold. The capture of Black Jeffreys by the Rattlesnake.

There is always something doing on a warship at a foreign station. After the arrival of Sir Bartle Frere’s slave commission and its installation on shore, we got up steam and headed for the island of Johanna, a tiny speck of land in the Indian Ocean five hundred miles southeast of Zanzibar, near Madagascar. On our way out we passed the island of Pembla, considerably larger than Johanna, but it was said that the anchorage was poor and we did not stop.

The island of Johanna, although only a few square miles in area, is one of the beauty spots of the South Seas. It has a splendid harbor on one side and a long inlet on the other, both protected by steep slopes and high promontories that afford a panorama of rare scenic splendor. Waterfalls drop from the cliffs into pools clear as crystal, and tropical fruits, tobacco, and yams are abundant. Here I saw the flying foxes of which I had read. The animals were equipped with wings similar to those of a bat, had reddish fur, and were as large as the small-sized fox of America. They made their homes in the tree and joined with the monkeys in raising a continuous chatter on the approach of strangers.

The island was governed by a Sultan, and the day following our arrival in the harbor he sent an ambassador to inform the captain of the “Glasgow” that he was about to honor the ship with a visit. We therefore prepared for his coming by changing into No. 1 uniform, polishing the brass work, squaring the yards, and when the royal party hove in sight, about seven bells in the forenoon watch, the yards were manned and a twenty-one gun salute boomed forth his honor. The procession was seen coming through the gates of the royal enclosure, yelept the palace the “place.” There were no conveyances, and the entire party was on foot, preceded by four punka holders. These were followed by the Sultan arrayed in spotless white robes with trimmings of tiger skins. He wore on his head a red silk turban with a dazzling ruby in front. His feet were protected by sandals. Around his ample waist was a broad sash which protruded a curved scimitar. He was closely attended by a number of courtiers and followed by about a hundred of his subjects, and his every movement was accompanied by the weird ceremonies surrounding an Oriental potentate.

He came aboard with a white man at his side who acted as interpreter. The latter was an American castaway from a wreck of years before, who had settled down among the natives and had cultivated a sugar plantation, learning the language and customs of the people. Later that day I visited his “sugar works,” which consisted of a large tub in which was installed a set of upright rollers, from the top ends of which extended a long pole. At the end of the pole a water buffalo was harnessed, and as the cow moved around the circle, a couple of natives fed the sugar cane between the roller and the juice fell into the tub below. I secured some of the product, but found it plentifully adulterated with sand.

To return to my story, the Sultan expressed his astonishment to the captain at the appointment of the warship, and gazed with awe at the mechanism of the guns between the decks. A modern rifle was loaded and fired in quick succession, and he dodged behind the captain while his courtiers raised their hands in fright. His Majesty’s nervousness was soon allayed, however, and he was bowed and kaytowed into the captain’s cabin, where I presumed he sampled that officer’s stock of liquors, for on emerging he was in a quite convivial mood and he waved his farewell to the entire crew as he stepped over the gangway into the royal barge.

Previous to our arrival, no ship had anchored there for several years, and the excitement of the natives was great when the men were given leave to go ashore. As there was no rum on the island there was no danger of the men getting drunk, and as the currency of the Suzerain consisted of an assortment of buttons, with which commodity all of our men were equipped, they were well supplied with “money.” This I found to my cost when I inspected my dress coat and found all of the brass buttons missing.

One of the most interesting things about Johanna was the fact that it had been used as the headquarters of many of the pirates who swarmed those waters for three centuries past. On one of the high promontories overlooking the harbor is perched a fortress, which we were told had been built by Captain Kidd. History relates that Captain Kidd did spend some time at Johanna. Captain Mission, another prosperous pirate, settle down to make his home on the island of Johanna, there to enjoy in peace the fruits of his spoils. Johanna was one of the ports to which Black Jeffreys frequently retired when his victims objected and made matters too hot for him. The fact that these pirates made such substantial and extensive preparations for their security by building the stronghold makes it reasonable to suppose that the wealth of some of them will some day be found on the island, perhaps in the vicinity of the old fort.

On the island side, the fort is reached by a long flight of steps, over which stone arches are placed at intervals of about one hundred feet. Up these steps several of us climbed until we reached the circular structure of masonry surmounting the crest of the peak, above a sheer drop of two hundred feet to the sea. Inside the fort the walls are about three feet thick, pierced by many portholes through which the guns were fired. Brass Howitzers, probably twelve pounders, point their muzzles from each port, but they have been spiked at the vent so that they are perfectly harmless. An ancient flagpole rose from the roof, from which the skull and crossbones were wont to fly during the palmy days of the bloodthirsty pirates. I made an effort to climb the pole, but an ominous crack warned me of the danger and I gave up the effort. The roof of the fort affords a view of the entire island and an obstructed vision of the Indian Ocean for many miles.

Many were the tales of pirates and their adventures which were told to us by the white castaway. The story of Black Jeffreys still clings to my memory, so I will tell it to you as it was told to us. The capture of Black Jeffreys was brought about by his chase of a clipper ship from Melbourne on her way around the Cape of Good Hope to England with a valuable cargo. After sighting her, the chase lasted several days, and the pirate would undoubtedly have overhauled the clipper if the bark’s foretop hamper had not given way under the strain. Night was falling, and before the spare rigging could replace the damage aloft the pirate ship, the clipper got away in the darkness, and changing her course ran into Simon’s Bay, where the “Rattlesnake” lay at anchor. There the master of the clipper told his story to the commander of the gunboat and gave the position of the pirate ship.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey’s, whose ship already had a fair cargo of loot taken from an East Indiaman, had given up the chase and headed for Johanna. There the cargo was unloaded and stored in some hiding place back in the woods. The reserve force that had been left at the fort was then taken on board and Jeffreys immediately put to sea. The second day out, the lookout at the masthead reported a sail on the starboard bow, and Jeffreys, thinking that another prize was in his grasp, pointed his ship for the stranger while all the ship’s telescopes were trying to identify it. They were not kept long in suspense. Quickly the faint speck on the horizon grew, its outline became bolder, and a column of smoke was seen coming from its funnel. Then consternation and fear spread among the crew, for it could be none other than the dreaded “Rattlesnake” that was racing toward them under steam and sail. The captain roared out to the helmsman to put the helm down, and the sails were trimmed as the ship started to run for dear life before the stiff wind with all sails set, studdin’ sails on both sides bellying out to the breeze. The crew were huddled in the stern, which raised her bow almost out of the water, and the pirate tore along at fifteen knots.

Had the conditions been equal, she would have escaped her Nemesis. The “Rattlesnake,” however, with every inch of canvas she could carry, aided by her steam power, was rapidly closing the gap between them, and soon her bow chaser was throwing shot clear over the pirate as a signal to heave to and shorten sail.

The pirate’s crew had not been idle following the discovery of the character of her pursuer. They scurried around to clear her decks of all traces of her bloody business and to try to put on the appearance of an honest merchantman endeavoring to escape from a suspicious character. They knew that they were no match for the man of war, so they masked the guns, stowed away the firearms, cutlasses, and pikes.

A second shot went through her main topsail and cut away the port stun’ sail boom. This dropped the big canvas into the sea and it became a drag that almost stopped the ship. By this time the corvette was abeam, her ensign flying at the masthead. A shout came from her bridge” “What ship is that? Heave to! I am about to board you!” Black Jeffreys, realizing that it was useless to put up a fight and that he had a better chance of bluffing innocence, ordered his ship hove to. The “Rattlesnake” also stopped, her decks cleared for action. Lowering a boat manned with an armed crew, a lieutenant in charge pulled over to the bark. With the guns of the “Rattlesnake” trained on the pirate ship and other boatloads of armed seamen and marines on the way, the first boat’s crew clambered over the side of the captive vessel. The lieutenant covered Black Jeffreys with his revolver and called on him to surrender; and that worthy stepped forward with his hands down. By this time the other boats had arrived alongside and their crews were climbing aboard. The first lieutenant beckoned to a rifle of marines and they took positions on either side of Jeffrey’s. His first and second mates were next singled out from the crowd and put under arrest, and the pirate’s crew ordered below. Those cutthroats, realizing that with their own arms hidden away resistance was out of the question, then slunk down the ladders; the gratings were closed over them and locked; while a guard of marines paraded the deck.

Jeffreys, with his two officers, trying to fabricate a story which was innocent of any piratical activities but being unable to make it hold water, was taken to the “Rattlesnake” and confined in the brig for safe keeping. A prize crew was placed on the bark, and both ships laid their course for Simons Bay. From there the prisoners were sent to England. Jeffreys and his mates were tried and hung. The crews were sentenced to penal servitude for life and were sent to the Botany Bay penitentiary.