Timothy O. Ross

AN EVENING WITH BLACKBEARD


This was the first time I had watched the footage of the interview and the ensuing battle since I had first reported it some eight days ago. Seeing his face again had sent me into a cold sweat. I had just barely escaped with my life that day, and although I had no desire to relive it, the therapists said it would help with the night terrors I was experiencing. “What do I have to worry about? I saw it with my own two eyes. Oh well, I may as well get this over with.” as I pushed the play button. The blank image was replaced with the image of a man speaking into a camera…

Good evening. This is Tim Ross of the Boston News Letter, reporting to you from the Outer Banks Islands of North Carolina. Pryvateers have plundered American shipping lanes since the colonies were first founded, in an effort to disrupt trade in the name of their various empires and countries. However, since the end of the war of Spanish Succession in 1712, a new breed of pryvateer has emerged, one who shows allegiance to no one other than to himself and his crew. No ships are safe from these pyrates, as they do not discriminate against who they attack. But, over the past two years, the word pyrate has become personified to the American colonies in the form of just one man. Sailors tell tales of their ships being approached by a ship flying friendly colors, only to see them hoist a black flag bearing the image of a skeleton spearing a heart while toasting the devil, as they move into cannon range. As the ship moves in closer, the “whoops and hollers” they describe hearing are nothing compared to the sight of these sailors, dressed in the most outrageous of outfits, firing their pistols and wildly brandishing their cutlasses in the air. Their appearance is as terrifying as the vulgarities they screaming. But they are nothing compared to the nightmare that emerges from behind the lingering smoke of the musket and cannon fire. A towering figure spectacularly dressed and armed with six muskets strapped across his breast and a cutlass strapped to each side. His face is completely covered with thick black hair twisted into curls, with only his eyes visible, fierce and wildly darting about. The smoke encircling his face from lit cannon fuses burning from underneath his huge hat, creates the appearance of a demon stepping forth from Hell and searching for his next victim. This sight has inspired many a merchant to give up without a fight, often without even having fired a single shot. What manner of man can instill this kind of terror into even battle hardened sailors? In a single word… Blackbeard. This one man has had a more disruptive influence on the shipping economy here in the colonies, including that of foreign pryvateers, than anyone else in our history. Tonight I am here onboard the sloop Adventure to bring to you, the reader, a one-on-one interview with the man, the myth, the legend himself…Captain Edward “Blackbeard” Teach.

“I did a pretty good job with the opening, if I do say so,” I murmured, as I paused the footage, taking a deep breath to help steady myself for what I knew was yet to come. I fast forwarded through the introduction and opening questions of the interview. They simply helped to clear the mystery of Blackbeard’s origins and education for the reader, and would not help me in any way. I continued to scan through the footage until I got to the point where everything started to come unraveled. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the play button and Blackbeard’s voice came resonating out of the television speaker.

“… for pyracy is simply pryvateering for yourself, rather than a distant country who will abandon you at a moments notice, as England did to us at the end of the War of Spanish Succession. In the summer of 1712, a massive hurricane destroyed most of our fleet leaving most of us out of work until we could repair our sloops. It was during this time that the news reached us from overseas that the Peace of Utrecht had been signed and that all pryvateering commissions had been revoked. While marooned there in Jamaica, I became friends with a man who I served under for many years after. It was he who helped introduce me to the idea of true pyracy…Captain Benjamin Hornigold.
TR: Since you mentioned him, Captain Hornigold has been quoted as saying “Blackbeard was my star pupil”. What is your opinion of the “Pyrate King of the Bahamas”?
BB: I served under Capt. Hornigold for several years. In my opinion, he was at one time the fiercest and most able pyrate of the West Indies and a master tutor in the skills of pyracy . In fact, it was he who commissioned my first command aboard the Revenge. (Rising to his feet and suddenly sullen…) It is with the deepest of regrets that I have recently learned that he has not only accepted the king’s pardon, but has agreed to help to hunt down those pyrates who would refuse to accept it . (Teach walks over to an open footlocker, reaches in and brings out a bottle of rum and two tankards, walks back over to the table, and fills them. He stoppers the bottle and sits back down, sliding one of the tankards across the table, and raising his tankard into the air in a salute, looking expectantly across the table)
TR: No, but thaa…(The wild look from Teach stops the sentence short. As both mugs are raised into the air, an unspoken toast is made and both take long swallows from their tankards.)
BB: (Inhaling sharply and coughing )W..WHHEEEWWW!!Th..that w..will
TR: WOW! That is some strong stuff.
BB: (Laughing) It be nothing more than standard rations while onboard a pyrate ship. A pint of rum and a gallon of beer daily keeps morale onboard ship at it’s highest. This past winter, my crew nearly mutinied because of a lack of rum, but then we captured a sloop filled with barrels of rum and wine, and things were much better after that.

I coughed and snickered to myself at the memory of the foul burning liquid I had been forced to imbibe that evening. ”Never again will I take another drink without thinking of that evening,” as I reached over into the chair-side bar and brought out a tumbler and a crystal bottle of the amber liquid that had provided the only relief from my nightmares. I poured a full glass of the 40 year old scotch and drained it in one smooth motion. I refilled it again and turned my attention back to the footage, where I had just made the mistake of offering an opinion to the reason for his success as a pyrate.

“… Often the treatment these men receive during their imprisonment is better than that they received on board their own ship. Upon their release, many volunteer to serve with us. The rest are released unharmed, either back onboard their ship, or on a nearby island where they will be spotted by passing ships. Upon their rescue, these sailors would then they would pass on their tale of what had happened to them. Many of my fellow pyrates do not share this view on the treatment of prisoners and because of this, their intended victims resist much more fiercely.
TR: (Skeptically) Sooo… simple humane treatment of people is the reason that you succeed?
BB: (Suddenly wild-eyed, Blackbeard slams his tankard to the table, jumps to his feet and and draws his cutlass resting it just at the throat of the interviewer…) WHAT DO YOU THINK?!!

I jumped back in my chair, despite myself, spilling my scotch all over myself and my chair. For a moment, I had been back onboard the ship that night and all I wanted to do was get away from this man. Ignoring the mess, I stared at the screen.

TR: (Stammering) I..I..di..di..did not m.m.mean to offend.
BB: (Calmly sitting back down with a slight smile on his face, Blackbeard takes a long draught from his tankard.) You have just experienced a small taste of the reason for my success. Were you not just terrified by my sudden movement and action? Did not my very demeanor paralyze you in fear? In face, the only thing you wanted at that very moment was to do whatever it took to please me, was it not? Your silence is answer enough. (Taking another draught from his tankard.) “If a man knows he is about to die, he will fight because he has nothing to lose. So you take a man’s will to fight from him before he ever gets to use it, then show him humane treatment in return for his complacency. And what you get in return is something that no amount of cruelty can ever ensure. A reputation that if they do not try to resist, they will live to see another day.
TR: (Regaining composure) Are you saying you would kill anyone who would resist your will?
BB: Come now, Mr. Ross. Was there any doubt in your mind that I would have killed you a few moments ago had you not shown complete subservience to me? Do not fool yourself into thinking that your status as a reporter would grant you immunity to say whatever you want. I would have had removed your head from the rest of your body had you not shown me what I wanted to see. The sheer terror in your eyes proves how effective my methods are, as simple as they may seem.
TR: (Taking a deep breath) Why did you decide to start concentrating your efforts specifically on our American coastal traffic?
BB:(looking intensely at the interviewer) In the summer of 1717, while in Nassau, I learned of the destruction of the Whydah and the death of my friend, Black Sam and was greatly sorrowed by it. However, the capture and subsequent treatment of nine fellow pyrates by the Bostonian authorities infuriated me. In the following weeks to come we took any and everything that had the misfortune to cross our paths. At one point we took more than fifteen ships in as many days. We did not kill unless necessary, but any show of resistance was met with extreme prejudice, especially to those such as yourself who hailed from Boston. I wanted there to be no doubt. The entire British Empire would suffer for the treatment of our fellow brethren who had been treated so unjustly there. Because of this, any cargo that was not taken as booty, was thrown overboard, leaving the merchants with nothing but their lives.
TR: Yes, I remember interviewing many of the survivors of your attacks for the paper. One of the passengers with whom I spoke told me a tale of one passenger’s refusal to give up the diamond ring he wore on his finger and your subsequent removal of his entire finger to retrieve said ring. Is that true?
BB: (Blackbeard drains his tankard in one last gulp and stares at the interviewer intently) Of course it is.

My entire body shuddered at the cruel tone he used during this part of the interview. And the matter of fact way that he said it left no doubt in my mind that he had been telling the truth. I lifted my glass to take another swallow, forgetting that I had never refilled it from the earlier spill. I set the glass back down and, grabbing a towel from the bar, I began cleaning the spilled liquid from the hardwood floors. ”Now my house will smell like I must,” I muttered to no one as my attention was drawn back to the screen.

We continued to raid all the way up the coastline to the New York harbor. However before we could mount any type of an effective rescue for our fellow pyrates, I received news that two English forty-gun frigates were on their way to the colonies to reinforce their defenses. So, with the Revenge and another sloop of war now in my command, we decided to head back to the Caribbean to attempt to take a true ship of war. This opportunity quickly presented itself in the way of the slave ship, the La Concorde. We took the ship with two cannon shots across its bow and no casualties. Are you starting to see what a successful reputation can do for you, Mr. Ross? I refitted the La Concorde with forty guns and renamed her the Queen Anne’s Revenge. (He rises and walks back over to the footlocker and pours himself another tankard of rum.) Another drink, Mr. Ross?
TR: I have yet to finish mine, but thank you.(Blackbeard shrugs and replaces the bottle into the footlocker.)

“This time I believe that I will join you for another drink,” I sarcastically announced to the screen,”Thanks for the offer.” I pressed fast forward again on the remote,and turned to pour myself another drink.With my back to the screen, I lifted my glass in a silent toast to whatever gods had helped me to escape from what I knew what was to come next. I turned back to the screen to see that it was just coming up to that point in the interview when we spoke about his current “legitimate” trading enterprises with the governor of North Carolina as a his sole partner.

TR: It is rumored that Governor Spotswood of Virginia has sworn to expose you and Governor Eden and that he has even gone so far as to organize troops and ships to invade North Carolina in an effort to rid the colonies of you once and for all. What is your opinion of these rumors?
BB: Mr Ross, your information is fact, not rumor. I have personally received information that not only has he organized said invasion force, it is already searching the coastline for us.
TR: What do you intend to do if they find you?
BB: Why, defend myself of course. Governor Spotswood has no authority to arrest me, for all of my activities have been legitimized by Governor Eden, and his very invasion force is illegal. No governor has the right to invade another colony, no matter what the charge! No, I intend to send this illegal force down into the depths of Davy Jones’ locker, should we e’er cross paths. (Suddenly, the door bursts open and an excited crewman rushes in. In terse whispers, he converses with Teach for a few moments. Teach nods thoughtfully as he listens, then his eyes suddenly grow wild as the man continues. Teach growls some incoherent order back to the crewman, who nods and leaves as quickly as he entered. Teach turns back to the table, picks up his tankard and drains it in one long swallow, wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and stares at the interviewer fiercely. In an omnious voice…) It appears, Mr. Ross, that we must cut this interview short. Apparently Spotswood’s spy ring is much more effective than I gave it credit for. Somehow they have learned of our location, for two English sloops have dropped anchor just outside of the entrance to this very inlet. Tomorrow is going to be a very interesting day. This shall be the first time we have taken on two ships of the Royal Navy at once. We shall have to continue our conversation on the morrow’s eve once the battle is o’er. You may bunk in here for the evening (making a sweeping arm gesture) but in the morn, just ye remember what I said about complacency. I don’t expect you to fight for us, but the gods will not be able to help ye if I find that ye have plotted against us. (He walks over to the footlocker, brings out several stoppered bottles, and walks over to the door. As he opens the door, he turns back to the interviewer) That having been said, I bid ye goodnight, Mr. Ross of the Boston News Letter.( He turns and walks through the door, slamming it shut, laughing maniacly.)

That night I kept vigil in my cabin, terrified by the fact that I knew the ship would be attacked in the morning, yet in true reporter fashion I had continued recording. I feared that somehow, despite all of my precautions, the troops had somehow managed to follow me to this secret location. Throughout the night, I could hear the pyrates hurling vile threats and insults and at the English troops. At one point, Blackbeard’s voice could be heard over all others as he bellowed — "O cock, crow!" — in an effort to speed the forthcoming dawn. My chances of survival would have been slim if Blackbeard and his pyrates had won the battle. And it appeared that Blackbeard would indeed win the day when, in a masterful show of seamanship, he maneuvered the Adventure into position for a full on broadside shot of one of the sloops. The pyrates quickly grappled the ships together and boarded the seemingly doomed ship. Then from the bowels of ship, the English troops flowed forth like a freshly disturbed fire ant mound. In true pyrate fashion, Blackbeard immediately moved to attack the captain of the ship, Lt. Maynard. Both men pulled their pistols and fired on each other at point blank range. But while Maynard’s shot hit its mark, Blackbeard’s pistol misfired, probably due to damp powder. Yet Blackbeard appeared to be immune to the shot’s effect, as he drew his cutlass and bore down on Maynard. The two fought for what seemed like hours, yet in reality it was less than ten minutes. During that time, I saw Blackbeard receive four more gunshot wounds and countless number of slashes and stab wounds. Finally, with the help of several other sailors, Blackbeard was brought to his knees. In a final act of defiance, he spit in the face of Maynard. ”Ye will never take me back to Virginia alive!” he snarled. In a slow deliberate movement, Lt. Maynard calmly wiped the spit of his face and in a sudden motion, swung his sword and removed Blackbeard’s head in a single stroke. "I never planned to," he muttered as he ordered Blackbeard’s body thrown overboard. I locked eyes with Maynard and after several moments of staring at each other, he subtly tipped his hat to me in some unspoken gesture of appreciation. And, as the full implication of this gesture sank in, I turned and looked over the side where Blackbeard’s body had been unceremoniously dumped and gasped in terror. Unbelievably, Blackbeard’s headless body was circling the ship! I watched, struck dumb in horror, as it swam around the ship three times, then sank down into the depths of the harbor, never to be seen again. Maybe it was predators, pushing the body around as they feasted on the lifeless corpse. Maybe it was some strange tidal forces caused by the underwater currents of the channels. Or… maybe… Edward “Blackbeard” Teach is not as dead as we thought.

As I watched that last of the tape, it felt like I was reliving the entire thing again. The screen returned to its original blank stare as I sat there, unable to move. After several moments, I suddenly realized that I was still holding my breath for most of the latter part of the production. Exhaling deeply, I turned off the television and climbed the stairs up to my bedroom. "Well, here we go again," I exclaimed to no one as I drained my last swallow of scotch and set the glass down on the night table. I climbed into bed. ”Now I know I will never sleep again. Therapists can be so stupid sometimes,” as I fluffed my pillow and settled down into the bed. And as I laid there trying to sleep, I heard a voice ringing out in the distance — "Mr Ross, I told ye the gods would not be able to help ye!" — and I could hear that maniacal laughter echoing in my ears.