London Pirate's Destination

A sound, reminiscent of a blood-curdling scream, filled the night air, like a cross between a man and a wolf. Jethro Smythe stood up in the small skiff he was rowing across the Thames; he had never heard anything so chilling in his life. There were no other boats on the river that he could see, and all around him was silence, so where had this awful noise come from? Apart from the waves hitting the side of his boat, the only other sound that he could now hear was a dull creaking noise. The problem was that a thick mist had suddenly come up on the river, making it almost impossible to see anything apart from one small shimmering light, which he hoped was coming from a house or an inn on the shore.

It was March 13th 1730, Jethro was just sixteen years old and had just completed his first week at work in a small shipyard not to far from his home in Rotherhithe. So eager was he to get home and share his good fortune with his widowed mother and two sisters, that instead of walking through the narrow alleys and streets that might be harbouring thieves and vagabonds who would steal his wages as soon as look at him, that Jethro decided to “borrow” a boat and row himself around the bend in the river towards his home, a journey that should take him ten minutes instead of the twenty minutes it would take walking.

Almost as soon as he shoved off from the river’s edge, the mist started to come down, like a thick blanket covering everything. The tide was rising fast causing little whirlpools along the water’s edge and making it difficult to row. The only option Jethro had was try to get out to centre stream where the water was somewhat calmer, but as he did so he found that because of the mist he was also getting lost and not knowing which way he was now heading.

It was at this time that he first heard the awful scream followed by the dull creaking noise. The small glimmer of light that he just about make out in the background, must have been a candle burning somewhere, so he decided his best bet would be to head towards it. Once on shore he would be able to ascertain where he was and which direction he should be then be heading for.

The creaking noise seemed to be getting louder, which could indicate that he was possibly heading towards a ship. He was still standing in the skiff, rowing with one oar and probing in front of himself with the other, in case he should collide with a moored ship when something suddenly hit him sharply in the face and sent him crashing overboard, into the dark waters that surrounded him.

Fortunately for Jethro, he was a strong swimmer, and quickly pulled himself to the surface once again. He must have been close to the embankment as he could now feel those small whirlpools, which the tide made as it hit the water’s edge. He reached out, hoping to grip onto his skiff again, but it didn’t seem to be anywhere within his reach; his hand then gripped onto something metal, which felt like an iron railing. Jethro gripped it tight and started to pull himself up on it, feeling its ladder like rungs and gradually climbing up the structure. As he pulled himself up higher and out of the water, he could now see the light, which he had earlier mistaken for a candle burning in someone’s window. The light was a flaming torch, attached to a nearby wall, probably advertising a local inn he told himself.

Now at the top of the metal structure and completely out of the water, the mist wasn’t so thick. A sudden gust of wind caused the flames of the torch to flicker and throw off sparks, lighting up the area around him for a brief moment. Jethro couldn’t believe his eyes for a moment, for the metal contraption that he was now hanging onto was some sort of cage, made of iron hoops, but it was what was inside that made Jethro almost lose his grip and fall off, for it was the dead body of a man, held in place by chains and harnesses that held the head, body and legs in place.

The decrepit sight was made even worse by the fact that the whole body had been covered in black tar, including the face and head, leaving just the eyes starring out like two hard boiled eggs floating in a pool of black slime.

Jethro put all his weight against the cage and caused it to swing backwards and forwards until it was close enough to the shore for him to leap safely off. As he landed on the wooden foreshore he caught sight of something moving towards him in the darkness, and quickly picked up a piece of wood, which was lying on the floor, to defend himself with. The ghastly scream that he had heard earlier now sounded again, as the creature in the shadows leapt towards him. It was a huge black dog, its fangs bared, ready to attack and kill if possible. Jethro swung the piece of wood at the animal and caught it directly in the face, which stopped it in its tracks and caused it to turn and run away, whimpering as it did so.

Jethro would never forget that night for as long as he lived, Friday the 13th, his first week’s wages; the horrible sight of that body covered in black tar, hanging in a cage over the Thames; that enormous dog, howling like some sort of monster and barring its fangs at Jethro, ready to kill if he hadn’t been so quick witted. Never again would he steal a boat or anything else for that matter in order to try to save time; it could have cost him his life.

In the darkness that night, Jethro had ended up on the opposite side of the Thames at Wapping. He later found out that the body in the iron cage was that of a pirate who had been hanged at Execution Dock. The huge black dog had belonged to the pirate, and had apparently howled from the shore beside its master’s body, every night until the body was finally taken down and buried, as they usually were, in an unmarked grave.

During this period in time, the law stated that anyone who had committed crimes on the High Seas, either in home waters or abroad, would be brought back to London and tried by the High Court of the Admiralty. Capital punishment was reserved for acts of murder on the High Seas and mutiny at sea that also resulted in death.

After being transported from Marshalsea or Newgate Prisons by cart to Execution Dock in Wapping, the condemned man was urged by a chaplain to confess their sins before they died, needless to say, not many did! They did however have one thing in their favour, which pleased most of them, and that was that they were allowed to drink a quart of ale at a public house on the way to the gallows. Execution at this time were public affairs, and a hanging at Execution Dock often provided a family day-out, where crowds would line the river's banks, while others chartered boats moored in the Thames to get a better view of the proceedings.

Convicted pirates may have been allowed that quart of ale, but they were not allowed a few extra inches of rope, for when they were hanged it was carried out with a shortened rope. This meant a slow and agonising death from strangulation on the scaffold, as the drop was insufficient to break the prisoner's neck. This form of hanging was called the Marshal's dance because the prisoner’s limbs would often be seen to 'dance' as they struggled from slow asphyxiation.

Pirates were also denied the same customary rights as other prisoners hanged on the scaffold, who were cut down immediately after being pronounced dead. The bodies of pirates at Execution Dock were left hanging on the nooses until at least three tides had washed over their heads. In the cases of the most notorious offenders, the Admiralty would order that their bodies were to be tarred and hung in chains as a warning to all seafarers about the fate awaiting those who turned to piracy.

The following is an extract from The Gentleman's Magazine, dated February 4, 1796, which gives a vivid portrayal of a typical execution at London's Execution Dock.

“This morning, a little after ten o'clock, Colley, Cole, and Blanche, the three sailors convicted of the murder of Captain Little, were brought out of Newgate, and conveyed in solemn procession to Execution Dock, there to receive the punishment awarded by law. On the cart on which they rode was an elevated stage; on this were seated Colley, the principal instigator in the murder, in the middle, and his two wretched instruments, the Spaniard Blanche, and the Mulatto Cole, on each side of him; and behind, on another seat, two executioners. Colley seemed in a state resembling that of a man stupidly intoxicated, and scarcely awake, and the two discovered little sensibility on this occasion, nor to the last moment of their existence, did they, as we hear, make any confession. They were turned off about a quarter before twelve in the midst of an immense crowd of spectators. On the way to the place of execution, they were preceded by the Marshall of the Admiralty in his carriage, the Deputy Marshall, bearing the silver oar, and the two City Marshals on horseback, Sheriff's officers, etc. The whole cavalcade was conducted with great solemnity.”

Probably the most well known and infamous of all the pirates hanged at Execution Dock, was Captain Kidd, who had been convicted in 1701 of piracy and murder. During his execution, the rope broke and Kidd was hanged on the second attempt. His remains were hung from a gibbet by the river Thames at Tilbury for three years until they had completely rotted away. The name of Captain Kidd is kept alive today in the riverside pub that uses his name and is said to overlook the original site of the gallows.

During the 18th century, the area in London around the River Thames was home to many dockyards and boat builders, where ships of all sizes arrived and left for exotic destinations around the world. All types of trading went on from there, from straightforward trade in perishable goods such as spices and nuts, to tobacco, silks and rugs. There was also of course the infamous slave ships, which had left Africa fully laden, and had arrived in England, sometimes with up to a third of their human cargo having died during the journey. The selling of the slaves, usually by auction, often took place very close to the docks, before the ships departed again for the West Indies, where the rest of their haul would be sold off. Perhaps the most well remembered and feared ships and crews, at least by the ordinary Londoner, were the pirate ships!

Pirate ships did not advertise themselves as such, by flying the Jolly-Roger (Skull and Crossbones) flag while they were in dock, this was only done when they approached their prey while on the high seas. The very sight of this dreaded flag was enough to send shivers down the spine of ordinary merchant ships, the majority of whom, would heave to, as the saying goes and yield to, to the pirates without a fight.

The London docklands are now home to the banking and financial institutions, but where the huge skyscrapers, penthouse apartments, restaurants and bars now stand was once a warren of tiny back-streets and alleys, that housed a jumble of wharves, wooden cranes and small shipyards. Stretching out from the wharves in the narrow alleys and streets were the rows of tiny cramped houses where the seamen, dockers, shipwrights and their families all used to live.

Living in such close proximity, in cramped and often filthy conditions, led to all sorts of problems, including illness and quite often early death. Poverty however was probably the biggest problem of all, leading to men stealing from their neighbours and from their place of work, when and where they could get it, and women selling their bodies in order to bring food into the house. Living under such circumstances offered no real sense of hope apart from the local inn, of which there were many in the area.

Drunkenness was common place and often led to fights and sometimes death, but it was from these inns that men, once drunk, were often shanghaied by pirate captains and forced to join their crews. The days of pirates in this area are long gone, but even during the 20th century this was not the sort of place one would want to spend an evening unless absolutely necessary.

It was the east-end area of the docklands where so many Chinese merchant seamen decided to jump ship and take up residence. So many in fact that the area around Limehouse became known as Chinatown with many old and dilapidated houses being set up and used as Chinese restaurants, opium dens and gambling clubs, long before Soho in London’s west-end took the name.

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