Embedded Files
Volume 3 | Issue 7
Article by David Harpham. Edited by Kate Major. Additional Research by Liz Goodwin.
On 23 May 1701 at Wapping a single man, 47 years old with hands bound, was hanged at sunset. The first hangman’s rope had snapped, giving the figure hope of temporary reprieve but there was to be no realisation of this false hope. Hauled back to the gallows and cloaked in mud from the flats where he had fallen, the second rope did not fail. It seemed then that another pirate and murderer, an ‘arch pirate and common enemy of mankind’ as he had been called at his trial, had met his end. This man’s name was Captain William Kidd. Kidd had been at sea for most of his adult life and so it seemed he had met his end justly through his devilish activities at sea. After his death, the legend of this ‘pirate’ began and continued to grow. Lurid accounts of his crimes were catalogued in Charles Johnson’s A General History of Pirates in 1724, and he quickly became known as one of the most notorious cutthroats in history. However, in the last century, the story of Captain William Kidd has been reinvestigated with historians taking a fresh look at the available evidence. And what has emerged has been a picture not of Kidd the pirate and Kidd the murderer, but of a man entirely innocent of the charges which had been put up against him; a man thrown to the wolves by shadowy aristocrats for crimes that he did not commit.
Kidd’s story begins in Dundee in 1654. Born in the town on 22 January 1654, the son of the sea captain John Kidd, William Kidd was a man imbued with a naval heritage from an early age. The first records of his life date from 1689, when Kidd was present as a member of a French-English pirate crew that sailed in the Caribbean. Kidd and other members of the crew mutinied, ousted the captain of the ship, and sailed to the English colony of Nevis where they renamed the ship the Blessed William with Kidd becoming captain. Kidd and the Blessed William became part of a small fleet assembled by Codrington to defend Nevis from the French, with whom the English were at war. As the governor did not want to pay the sailors for their defensive services, he told them they could take their pay from the French, and Kidd and his men subsequently attacked the French island of Mariegalante, destroying the only town and looting the area, gathering for themselves around 2,000 pounds Sterling. Additionally during the War of the Grand Alliance acting on orders from the province of New York, Massachusetts, Kidd captured an enemy ship. Shortly thereafter, Kidd was awarded £150 for successful privateering in the Caribbean.
It is important here to recognise the big difference between a privateer and a pirate. In times of war, privateering licences were often issued by governments, allowing captains to hunt down enemy merchant ships. In return the Admiralty kept a share of any plunder, in effect meaning that this was a kind of legitimised piracy. Kidd’s life then was one of success; a man with the command of his own ‘private warship’ and with a reputation as a successful privateer. He was also a man of family and property; on 16 May 1691 Kidd had married Sarah Oort, the richest widow of the town and settled in New York, with the couple moving into a substantial town house located on Wall Street.
But this was not a happiness which was to last. Kidd’s troubles began in August 1695 when he first arrived in London, but it was trouble that first began with an opportunity, and not one that Kidd was unfamiliar with. In London, Kidd met fellow New Yorker Robert Livingston, who came to him with a proposition. Kidd swiftly agreed. With Kidd’s agreement Livingston subsequently approached his acquaintance Lord Bellomont, hoping to get the backing to build a private warship in order to hunt down Frenchmen and pirates in the Indian Ocean. Kidd would serve as her captain. Lord Bellomont soon sounded out four wealthy backers, who cumulatively contributed £6,000 between them to build the ship and to serve as a stake in the venture. Kidd’s ship was soon built in five weeks and christened the Adventure Galley, with privateering licences issued by King William. The King issued ‘My trusty and well-beloved Captain Kidd’ a commission to seize and apprehend ‘pirates, free-booters and sea-rovers, being our subjects, or of other nations associated with them’. If they resisted, Kidd was encouraged ‘by force to compel them to yield’. Kidd was also granted a special ‘Commission of Reprisals’ that permitted him to attack and loot all French shipping. Kidd’s commission however expressly prohibited him from attacking shipping friendly to the Crown. ‘We do strictly charge and command you, as you will answer to the contrary at your peril, that you do not, in any manner, offend or molest our friends or allies, their ships or subjects, by colour or pretence of these presents, or the authority granted’.
However, unusually in this instance, the Admiralty was this time not to get its share; the plunder was to go directly to the backers, the Earl of Romney, the Duke of Shrewsbury (Secretary of State), Lord John Somers and Admiral Edward Russell. All of them were leading men at the heart of the Whig government, but all five were to remain intensely secretive about their involvement. This was to prove an intensely forewarning omen.
In April 1696 Kidd left London for America, and was back in New York within 6 weeks, where he recruited additional crewmen. He set sail for the Indian Ocean on 6th September 1696 and all went well until he encountered a convoy of ships escorted by Commodore Warren of the Royal Navy. Warren wanted to press some of Kidd’s crew into service and so, to protect his men, Kidd fled in the night. In response, Warren wrote a damning report to the admiralty, which described him as a pirate. For the next year Kidd roamed the Indian Ocean in search of prey but without success. With no notable prizes taken, things eventually came to head. On sighting a Dutch ship, one of Kidd’s gunners, William Moore, urged Kidd to attack, an act not only piratical but also certain to anger the Dutch-born King William. Kidd refused, calling Moore a lousy dog. Moore retorted, ‘If I am a lousy dog, you have made me so; you have brought me to ruin and many more’, as he had not received payment for the duration of the cruise. Kidd reacted aggressively and threw a heavy bucket at Moore hitting him on the head, fracturing his skull resulting in Moore’s death.
Things however began to improve markedly after this unfortunate incident. In November Kidd captured a genuine prize, the French Rouparelle. Then on 30 January 1698 he hit the jackpot, capturing the Quedagh Merchant, an Indian ship carrying a French pass. Her hold was filled with silk, muslin, gold, silver and jewels, all worth an estimated £75,000 (£9million today). Kidd had more than enough to pay for his ship, his crew and cover the costs of his backers. Finally successful, Kidd decided now to head home.
This was achieved by travelling via Madagascar and it was here that Kidd encountered the pirate Robert Culliford. Ordering his men to attack, most of Kidd’s men mutinied and joined the pirate crew. In response Kidd abandoned the Adventure Galley and patched up the Quedagh Merchant, sailing back home in this ship along with the 12 members of crew who stayed loyal to him. He reached the Caribbean in March 1699 and, taking notable precautions, buried his plunder on an island in Long Island Sound. Then, after meeting his wife, he sailed to Boston to once more meet Lord Bellomont, which he did on 3 July.
Back in America, with considerable plunder to his name and having done all he could to maximise his Whig backer’s profits, Kidd was entitled to feel that he was in no immediate danger. However, three days later, Kidd was arrested. The problem now was that, in his absence Kidd had been so widely slandered that none of his backers wanted anything to do with him. Kidd was simply thrown to the wolves. After 6 months of imprisonment and having been forced to reveal where he had hidden his plunder, Kidd was shipped to England to stand trial. Here, after an interrogation by the Admiralty, Kidd was thrown into Newgate Prison, where he lay in solitary confinement for 12 months without charge. Meanwhile the Admiralty prepared its prosecution. When Kidd asked for copies of the relevant documents, crucial pieces of evidence such as the French passes were withheld, conveniently ‘mislaid’. Today they can be read in the National Archive; in 1700-1701 William Kidd was not so lucky.
Back in Parliament, the Whigs had been defeated and the Tories were back in power. Called before Parliament on 27 March 1701, the Tories desperately wanted Kidd to discredit his Whig backers but Kidd steadfastly both protested his innocence and denied his backers had encouraged wrongdoing. Thrown back in his cell, Kidd’s trial was to begin on 8 May.
One can only wonder what Kidd must have thought about his incarceration. A successful New York businessman and in possession of the King’s personal commission to embark on his adventure in the Indian Ocean, he must have felt protected with privilege. But such privilege now abandoned him. With crucial pieces of evidence missing from his trial Kidd stood no chance. In his trial, two of Kidd’s mutineers successfully perjured themselves by claiming that his attack on William Moore had been premeditated, bringing a charge of murder instead of manslaughter. This was followed by five charges of piracy at which the perjurers again lied, including of the taking of the Quedagh Merchant. The trial continued into a second day; Kidd now refused to take part stating simply, ‘I will not trouble this court any more, for it is folly’. With no defence the rest was a formality. Kidd only reacted again when the passing of the death penalty was given, crying out, ‘My Lord, that is a very hard sentence. For my part I am the most innocentest person of them all, for I have been sworn against by perjured persons’.
And so we come once more to Wapping. For Kidd there was no reprieve. A huge crowd gathered to celebrate the spectacle of the hanging and as Kidd had the rope placed around his neck the excited mob cheered and screamed for his blood. And they got it, albeit second time around. Kidd the notorious pirate and murderer died and the legend lived on. It is only recently, when key evidence such as the French passes emerged, that the true story has begun to come to light, and perhaps now the tale of Captain William Kidd can forever leave the shadowy darkness. Finally, after three hundred years, he might be given the chance to clear his name.
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