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Echoes of History

Gangsters of the Seas

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The Pioneer of the East: Thomas Tew

• Michelle Rodrigues: It's February, 1692, somewhere off the coast of the Bermuda Islands, adrift in the Atlantic. The Amity, a small 70-ton privateer sloop with eight guns, has just been ravaged by a storm. Its 40-odd sailors are still dazed and reeling.On the deck, Thomas Tew, the captain. He's had enough of their complaining. What is wrong with these sailors who can barely stand up?
  
  He steps forward and climbs onto a keg to address his men. He announces the plan that has been hatching for some time. Tew wants to abandon their official mission and become a true pirate.
  
  The governor of Bermuda sent them to the coast of Gambia, but Tew has other, greater ambitions beyond the Cape of Good Hope and the sprawling islands of Madagascar, onwards to unfamiliar seas, where almost no other Western pirate has sailed before. Rumor has it that unimaginable riches pass through these waters. Chests of gold and silver are ripe for the taking.
  
  Captain Tew's speech has the desired effect. The men gradually rise to their feet, their strength and ambitions restored. And when the captain lifts his cutlass to the skies and asks if they will follow his lead, they cry out in unison.
  
  With a gold chain or a wooden leg, we will follow you. It is at this point that Thomas Tew raises the Jolly Roger pirate flag for the very first time. A single arm brandishing a cutlass against a jet black background.
  
  To celebrate the release of the new Skull and Bones video game, discover the stories of some of the most infamous pirates of the Indian Ocean. The cruel, bloodthirsty privateers, buccaneers and sailors turned criminals terrorized and pillaged the seas. Pirates were not born, they were made.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez, and you're listening to Gangsters of the Seas.
  
  We know very little about Thomas Tew's early years. Just that he was born around 1649, possibly in England or the American colonies around Newport perhaps, or in Rhode Island. In any case, this is where we find the first evidence of him.
  
  He was a merchant ship captain, a husband, and a father of two young daughters. But as the 1690s dawned and war raged between France and other countries in the Old World, Thomas Tew swapped his trading vessel for a warship, becoming a privateer with the mission of chasing French fleets out of the Atlantic. His home port was Bermuda, a small archipelago in the middle of the ocean between Europe and the New World.
  
  It was here that the sailor began playing fast and loose with the law, attacking ships he wasn't meant to approach. Some were already beginning to label him as a pirate. And justifiably so, as in the pubs and taverns of the archipelago, Thomas Tew would keep company with some of the most, let's just call him, untrustworthy thugs, including his friend, a certain Richard Want.
  
  There's no doubt that Want was a pirate, a cruel and bloodthirsty hulk of a man, who was as quick to draw his cutlass as his whiskey flask. The two men listened attentively to others' conversations and were hearing more and more about the seas to the east and the Indian Ocean. If the rumors were to be believed, the shipping routes to the east of the African continent could be the new pirate El Dorado.
  
  There, unlike the Atlantic or the Caribbean, there was practically zero risk of stumbling upon menacing French and Spanish warships. All that was to be found were occasional East India Company ships keeping watch. The trading posts were almost defenseless.
  
  The most important of all, the treasures that could be found there made anything they'd known previously look like pin money.
  
  The Mughal Empire that ruled most of India was incredibly wealthy, its territories stretching from Pakistan in the west to Bangladesh in the east. It was in conflict with the Maratha Confederacy, a warrior group of Hindu peasants on India's Malabar coast. The Mughals were one of the world's richest powers, their reach extending into Europe via Cape of Good Hope and to the Ottoman Empire via the Red Sea.
  
  As well as precious metals and gemstones, the Mughals' ships were laden with spices, ivory and luxury fabrics that all sold like hotcakes for a pretty penny. Enthralled by the promise of these exotic oceans, the two men, Tew and Want, resolved to take off on an adventure. But Thomas Tew was prudent.
  
  Before setting sail, he managed to acquire a letter of marque from the governor of Bermuda. An official document that gave him cart lunch to roam freely without English authorities on his back.
  
  The captain borrowed money from several of the archipelago's notables to buy and arm a ship. The Amity was a 70-ton war sloop equipped with four starboard-side guns and four port-side guns. Two and his ship's mate, Richard Watt, recruited 40 sailors, all believing they were headed to Gambia, where the Amity and another ship were meant to attack and pillage French-controlled Goray in Senegal.
  
  At least those were the terms of the letter of marque that Tew had obtained. But our captain had other plans.
  
  The ship set sail early 1692. It was then that the violent storm struck the Amity, and Thomas Tew convinced his men to abandon the governor's orders and sail to the Indian Ocean. The crew didn't need much persuading.
  
  The sailors on privateer ships were poorly paid, and the promise of a treasure was enticing. The pirates celebrated the change of plan by drinking rum through the night.
  
  At dawn, the ocean now still in calm. The Amity set course for South Africa. A few months later, Captain Thomas Tew steered them around the Cape of Good Hope and headed northwards.
  
  In the early summer of 1692, he entered the Mozambique Channel. To his left was the eastern coast of Africa. To his right, the vast island of Madagascar.
  
  He had reached his destination.
  
  Tew had heard talk of an Adam Baldridge, an Englishman like himself. This sea dog had arrived two years earlier and was said to have set up a pirate hideout in the small island of Saint Marie to the northeast of Madagascar. Highwaymen of the waves could find everything their hearts desired there.
  
  Not just provisions, but pleasures too. It made the ideal pit stop before pushing northwards.
  
  In St. Marie, Tew replenished his stores and recruited an extra dozen or so sailors. At the pirate hideout, the captain took counsel from a rare few seasoned sailors of these eastern seas, who warned him to avoid certain places and to keep out of the way of the East India Company's powerful ships. He also picked up a few helpful leads, learning how to identify the most lucrative targets by the shapes of their sails and hauls.
  
  Recognizing them was easy. Array's stern was typical of the ghanjahs, merchant vessels that sailed in their dozens along the shipping routes towards the Ottoman Empire. These ships were laden with riches, but the power of their guns and the valor of their crews were not to be underestimated.
  
  The little pirate ship weighed anchor and left Madagascar, heading north.
  
  They sailed along the coast and rounded the Horn of Africa, taking Thomas Tew and his crew into the waters of the Red Sea. The men decided to set their sights on Param Island off the coast of Yemen. It was a perfect place to hide and ambush the ships as they entered and left the Red Sea.
  
  And it didn't take long for Thomas Tew to snare his first prey. After just a few days, one of the Amity's lookouts saw in his spyglass one of those raised hulls they'd been told about in St. Marie. The captain sprang into action.
  
  The anchor was raised, the mainsail hoisted, and the pirate ship raced towards its target.
  
  As they approached the ship, Two ordered the black flag to be raised. He positioned his men at the guns and ordered them to fire warning shots. But the enemy ship didn't retaliate or submit.
  
  The Amity drew nearer. When the two vessels were side by side, Thomas Tew launched the attack.
  
  Dozens of grapple hooks were flung onto the deck and pirates hoisted themselves onto the ship. Hurling threats and insults. Primed for a fight, they brandished their cutlasses and aimed their muskets at the enemy's side.
  
  The pirates may have gone in a little strong. They had been warned of formidable crews, but instead they discovered a bunch of terrified sailors. Only a handful fought back, and a couple of minutes was all it took to slaughter them.
  
  Their heads cut off, or their bodies blasted overboard by the impact of gunfire. Having witnessed the carnage, the others all surrendered without a fight.
  
  Thomas Tew was now the first Western pirate to have taken a ship in the Red Sea without losing a single one of his men. Quite a feat. This first victory exceeded the Amity crew's wildest dreams.
  
  The loot was unimaginable. Dozens of chests brimming with gold ingots and coins, coffers overflowing with silver and ivory, and dozens and dozens of pounds of rare, valuable spices, not to mention all the precious gemstones and rolls of silk. In total, ₤250,000 of loot, equivalent to $520 million in today's money.
  
  Intoxicated by this extraordinary haul, Captain Tew planned more attacks. He told his men that he wanted to pursue the convoy that the captured ship had been following. They could catch up with it, and if their holds were as full as the one they had just taken, the booty would be nothing short of legendary.
  
  But astonishingly, the crew refused to go. And the ship's mate, Richard Watt, talked the captain out of his plan, saying that they had already seized enough and that they shouldn't take risk of losing it. So the Amity set sail south, the Mughal ganja following in its wake.
  
  The ships dropped anchor at St. Marie. The pirate hideout in Madagascar. It was time to count the spoils and pay his men.
  
  Thanks to their epic haul, each pirate received ₤1,200, more than the average sailor could hope to make in several lifetimes of labor. Today, that would be around $250,000 per head. Not forgetting the captain, who pays himself ₤8,000, which would be the equivalent of $1.7 million in today's money.
  
  Tew might have been a pirate, but he was not entirely disloyal, setting aside ₤45,000 to pay his creditors in Bermuda. After a few weeks of indulgence in St. Marie's taverns, Thomas Tew headed home to America's English colonies. The Amity docked in Newport, Rhode Island in early 1694.
  
  Now he was a wealthy man. Thomas Tew intended to live life to the fullest. He moved to New York with his wife and two daughters, where he knew he'd be safe.
  
  Local governor, Benjamin Fletcher, was known to turn a blind eye to the acts of pirates and ocean bandits, even welcoming them with open arms.
  
  Thomas Tew led an extravagant life. He spent his days with the upper echelons of society and attended lavish parties in the evenings. His daughters dazzled everyone with their fine jewelry and clothes, each outfit more luxurious than the last.
  
  The pirate captain shared his tales of his Red Sea exploits with anyone who would listen. He recounted how easy it had been to take the enemy ship and spoke of the incredible treasure seized from the Mughal ganja. His stories spread like wildfire through North America's underworld.
  
  Many of them were bored with the Caribbean and the Atlantic and decided to take adventure into the Indian Ocean. Thomas Tew's tale became legendary. He had paved the way for a route that would come to be known as the Pirate Round.
  
  Swept up in the euphoria, Tew's men announced that they too wanted to return to the sea and undertake one last campaign. It didn't take the captain long to agree. The lore of the treasure was insatiable.
  
  Thomas Tew assembled another crew. By this stage, his former right-hand man, Richard Want, was captain of his own ship and had already set off to the east. So Captain Tew hired another seasoned sea dog by the name of John Ireland.
  
  But before they set sail once again, Thomas Tew needed to make sure that the English wouldn't cause him any problems. He bribed Governor Fletcher with ₤300 for a letter of marque. Officially, he was being sent to chase off French ships.
  
  He weighed anchor and set off for the Indian Ocean in November 1694.
  
  After stopping for supplies and to pick up extra crew in Madagascar, the Amity headed for the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait. But just as he entered the Red Sea, the captain realized he was not alone. Through his spyglass, he could see five other pirate ships docked behind Param Island at the very spot where he had hidden two years earlier.
  
  Richard Watt was there, among others. Aboard his formidable 46-gun frigate was Henry Avery with a 150-strong crew. The sailor had a solid reputation and appeared to be leading this fleet of pirate ships.
  
  With his little sloop, two didn't stand a chance against them. He had no choice but to join the little armada. It was no coincidence that they were here.
  
  They had all heard of the Amitys exploits two years earlier. So he now found himself forced to share the waves with a host of ferocious pirates. Just a few weeks earlier, a Dutch captain had made a name for himself by cutting off the lips of one of his captives and roasting him on the deck and then eating him.
  
  European pirates were now feared and the ships of the East were better prepared as a result. On September 8th, 1695, the pirate fleet spied a Mughal convoy attempting to cross the sea in the distance. From his deck, Henry Every gave the signal and Thomas Tew ordered his men to sail toward the first ship.
  
  The pirate vessels encircled a large warship named the Fateh Muhammad, loading their cannons and lighting their fuses. Cannonballs and flames rained down on the Indian ship as it fought tooth and nail against the onslaught. By some miracle, it hit its target, striking the amity with a cannonball and causing considerable damage.
  
  A second cannon was fired, headed straight for the command post where Thomas Tew was standing. The captain had no time to react. The cannonball tore into his body, killing him instantly.
  
  Devastated, his men laid down their arms, and with the help of the other pirate ships, the crew was saved. They traveled to Madagascar to find a new ship before heading back to America, minus their captain, whose body doubtless lay at the bottom of the sea. In his brief career, Thomas Tew led just two pirate campaigns, but he went down in history as the man who opened a new pirate route and inspired a host of new sea bandits.
  
  He was a pioneer of the Eastern seas and his life story has become legendary. He left a legacy even greater than the treasure he captured.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez and this has been an Ubisoft podcast produced by Paradiso Media. Thanks for listening.

The King of Pirates: Henry Every

• Michelle Rodriguez: On the morning of May 7th, 1694, Henry Every, an experienced navigator and first mate to Captain Gibson, sat at a table with several sailors aboard the ship Charles II. They were moored in the Spanish harbor of Coruna, on the coast of Galicia. The Charles II was part of a small fleet of English ships that had been hired out to the Spanish for a mission against the French in the Caribbean.
  
  The men had been waiting for weeks for an official document from Madrid that would allow them to raise anchor. But despite promises made when they left London, they hadn't been paid for several months. A few days earlier, squadron leader Admiral Obern had once again refused to pay his sailors, probably fearing they would desert as soon as they were paid.
  
  But for Henry Every and 20 other seamen, the situation had gone on long enough. They decided to mutiny. Every had spent the past few days going from boat to boat, quietly trying to put together a plan.
  
  That day, the Admiral was ashore, and Captain Gibson, who commanded the Charles II, was asleep in his cabin, drunk. In the late afternoon, Every and the men he had convinced to join him took the helm of the ship. After giving the signal, they cast off and left the Spanish coast behind.
  
  The guards on land had no time to react. All they could do was watch the sails as they disappeared over the horizon.
  
  After sailing for a few hours, Every went to Captain Gibson's cabin. He gave him two choices. Join him and the other brave men seeking their fortune, or take a little rowboat back to dry land.
  
  The captain chose to flee, along with a few other sailors. After a vote on the main deck, Henry Every was elected captain. His charisma had convinced the rest of the crew to put him in command.
  
  At 40 years old, the seafarer embraced the life of a pirate.
  
  To celebrate the release of the new Skull and Bones video game, discover the stories of some of the most infamous pirates of the Indian Ocean. The cruel, bloodthirsty privateers, buccaneers and sailors turned criminals terrorized and pillaged the seas. Pirates were not born, they were made.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez, and you're listening to Gangsters of the Seas.
  
  Henry Every was likely born in August 20th, 1659, in the small village of Newton Farers in southwest England. Legend has it, his father, an officer of the Royal Navy, introduced him to the sea. And quickly, he developed a taste for it.
  
  He also joined the Royal Navy. In the late 1680s, he was a midshipman aboard a 64-gun warship. Every quickly stood out from the crowd.
  
  When his commander was transferred to the HMS Alba Marla, a larger 90-gun ship, he invited Every to join him. Together, they fought the French and helped capture the convoy from Brest, their port city in northwestern France.
  
  On August 29, 1690, Henry Every left the Royal Navy, but he didn't give up the sea. In Bermuda, he met the local governor who convinced him to get involved in the slave trade. As a result, he traveled to the Guinea Coast, transporting hundreds of Africans to the West Indies.
  
  He gained a reputation as a vicious slave trader, robbing competing ships. In 1693, Henry Every was recalled to the Navy to join an Anglo-Spanish mission aboard the Charles II. This 46-gun, three-masted frigate was part of a squadron of four ships commanded by Admiral Auburn.
  
  The fleet's mission was to travel to the Caribbean to provide Spanish ships with supplies and sink any French ships they encountered. Henry Every was promoted to First Mate, but he was mainly motivated by the promise of a handsome salary. The fleet left London in August 1693, but before heading to the Caribbean, it had to go to Coruna on the Galician coast.
  
  The mission got off to a bad start. The journey should have taken two weeks, but it took the Charles II and three other ships five months in all. No one really knows why they were delayed, but one thing is certain.
  
  The sailors were already on edge. They still hadn't received any of their wages and they were starting to lose patience. The rest is history.
  
  Henry Every led a crew of mutineers and set sail aboard the Charles II. After cutting Captain Gibson loose off the coast of Africa, Henry Every gathered the crew and shared his plan with them. Originally, the plan had been to set sail to the West Indies, but he suggested the Indian Ocean instead.
  
  Ships on those maritime routes had holds bursting with immense treasures, spices, valuable fabrics, precious metals and gemstones. He then told them the legend of Thomas Two, an English pirate said to have seized an enormous haul of treasure in that region a year earlier. If they wanted to get rich, that's where they should go.
  
  Described by everyone as ruthless and incredibly charismatic, Every didn't need to say anymore. His men were ready to follow him. The Charles II was renamed The Fancy, and the pirate crew headed for the Cape of Good Hope.
  
  On the journey south, The Fancy pillaged five ships, enabling her to stock up plenty of provisions, ammunition and take on new men. She now had a crew of 95. The ship rounded the Cape of Good Hope in early 1695.
  
  After stopping in Madagascar, a necessary stop for any good pirate, Henry Every dropped anchor off the coast of Anjouan Island in the Comoros. He had recruited 50 French pirates, all ready to follow him in his quest. Captain Every wanted to go to the Red Sea.
  
  His plan was simple, to intercept the ships transporting pilgrims from Mecca with holds bursting with goods. But before setting out, the pirate captain gave a warning to the English ship commanders in the Indian Ocean. If an English ship crossed paths with the fancy's red flag, with its black skull and crossbones, they should raise an English flag and allow the pirates to inspect their holds.
  
  This would ensure that they would be allowed to go free, unharmed. This was patriotic, but not completely a selfless act. Every hoped it would save his skin once he was done with the pirate life.
  
  In the spring of 1695, the fancy raised anchor and left the Comoros Archipelago.
  
  She sailed north towards the Bab el-Mandeb Strait at the entrance to the Red Sea, where present-day Yemen faces the Horn of Africa. Every knew that if he was patient, he would cross paths with ships belonging to the Mughal Empire that were guaranteed to hold great treasures.
  
  The Mughal Empire was a major and wealthy power, even richer than the Ottoman Empire, the other power of the Muslim world. Its territory extended from Afghanistan to Bangladesh. The Mughals were wealthy merchants who spread their flamboyant culture around the world.
  
  Their wealth was symbolized by the magnificent Taj Mahal, which was finished 40 years earlier. The Empire was ruled by the Grand Mughal, who was one of the richest men on the planet.
  
  So it seems Henry Every had no shortage of ambition, but his real gift was his ability to inspire all those he met to join him. To such an extent that when he encountered other pirate ships in the Bab el-Mandeb Strait, he convinced them to join his venture too. Before he arrived at his destination, he had already relied on two other ships to his cause.
  
  Once he arrived, three other pirate ships joined them. One of them was even captained by Thomas Too, the famous pirate Every had told his men about off the coast of Coruna. The insatiable Henry Every now led a bona fide squadron of pirate ships.
  
  In the late summer of 1695, the six ships with hundreds of men on board moored near Peron, a small island off the coast of Yemen. They hid patiently awaiting their prey. Every had gotten wind that a convoy of Mughal ships had left Jeddah a few weeks earlier.
  
  Pilgrims leaving Mecca had to pass through this large port on the Arabian Peninsula. The convoy was made up of dozens of boats headed for Surat, an important trading post in northern India. But time passed, and they still hadn't spotted any sails.
  
  Henry Every learned from his informers that a convoy had slipped through their fingers sailing at night to escape the pirates. The captain immediately sounded the charge. The pirate squadron gave chase.
  
  The fancy was the largest and quickest of the six ships. She headed for the Mughal convoy with all her sails set, while the other pirate ships tried their best to keep up. On September 8, after four days of sailing, Henry Every faced the stern of the Fateh Muhammad, a merchant ship without cannons belonging to a wealthy Surat merchant.
  
  The Fateh Muhammad's crew tried to fight back, but couldn't defend themselves for long. The loot discovered in the holds was sizable, ₤60,000 in gold coins, the equivalent of $12 million today. Despite this score, Captain Every didn't stop there.
  
  He rallied his men and set sail for the Mughal convoy, which now had a significant lead. But it took Every just two days to catch up to the first of the Mughal ships, and the vessel he saw before him was a promising prospect. He recognized the sail of the Ganji Sawai, which means exceeding treasure.
  
  But it was much harder for the pirates to take this ship. She was a far cry from the unarmed ship they had just taken, where men put up little resistance. She was a 64 gun, 165 foot long military ship manned by 400 musket armed soldiers determined to defend the ship's precious cargo and hundreds of passengers.
  
  One passenger was particularly important, the daughter of the Mughal emperor. She and her court were returning from Mecca and the riches she transported made her an incredibly lucrative target for the rampaging pirates. Captain Every wasn't intimidated and decided to launch an attack.
  
  He positioned the pirate boats at the front and the back of the Ganji Sawai to avoid cannon fire. Their position ensured that his men hit their mark. One of the pirates' cannons even managed to hit the main mast of the Mughal ship, causing extensive damage.
  
  The mast collapsed onto the deck with a deafening crash, killing dozens of sailors. A few minutes later, a cannon exploded aboard the Indian ship, leaving a gaping hole in the hull. It was a final blow that enabled the pirates to throw their grappling hooks and haul themselves aboard.
  
  A fierce battle ensued. The Mughal soldiers caused a lot of damage with their muskets, killing dozens of pirates. Swords clanged, arms were cut off, and several heads fell to the floor rolling on the deck.
  
  After two hours of heavy fighting, Every's men won the battle. The Mughals were defeated, and the captain was able to walk off with one of the greatest hauls ever stolen by a pirate. Some historians estimate that the loot was worth over ₤600,000 at a time, the equivalent of more than $120 million today.
  
  Each pirate received about ₤1,000, more than a sailor made in his entire career, and several handfuls of gemstones.
  
  But by attacking the Ganges Awai with the Grand Mughal's daughter on board, the pirate captain had angered the emperor, and the emperor became even angrier when the terrible tales of rape and violence against women on board reached him. Henry Every also put England in a rather delicate position. After this attack, the Mughal emperor imposed sanctions.
  
  65 employees of the East India Company stationed at Surat Trading Post were imprisoned for over a year. The emperor threatened to attack the town of Bombay, present-day Mumbai, which was under British control. Worse still, trade with the empire was on the brink of collapse.
  
  With a single attack, Captain Every had managed to disrupt the geopolitical balance of the entire region. Wanting to preserve their trade links with the Mughal empire at all cost, the English also imposed a strong sanction on Every. In July of 1696, the pirate was declared Ostisumani Genetis, or enemy of the human race.
  
  They issued a 500-pound bounty on his head, which was doubled by the East India Company. The English government also promised the Grand Mughal that Every would never be pardoned, unlike many other pirates. A manhunt began across the oceans, and Henry Every knew it.
  
  He was wise and decided to put an end to his career.
  
  In just two years, he had become a legend. Better still, he had become the king of the pirates.
  
  In spring of 1696, Every, now going by the name of Benjamin Bridgman, stopped in Reunion Island, where he sold some of his loot and let the French and Danish sailors and his crew go. He also bought 90 African slaves, who he decided to take with him across the Atlantic Ocean to the Caribbean. Every arrived at the end of 1696.
  
  The fancy moored by the small island of St. Thomas, which was under Danish control in the West Indies. He sold a large portion of his loot before setting sail for the Bahamas. He knew there was a corrupt governor who might let him stay despite the bounty on his head, in exchange for his silence.
  
  Every promised the governor ₤1,000, more than three times his annual salary, as well as weapons, ammunition, and several tons of ivory. He also offered him the fancy. But the pirates got bored after a few months.
  
  The island had few people, and there weren't enough shops for them to spend their fortune. Fate pushed them to flee yet again. The governor was under pressure and ended up informing the English authorities that Every was on his island.
  
  In a final twist, he warned the pirate captain that the Royal Navy was coming. That's when the paths of the sailors diverged.
  
  Henry Every decided to return to England. With a dozen men, he set sail aboard a ship that was small enough to slip away unnoticed. This is where his trace was lost.
  
  Some say he managed to return to his village near Plymouth, where he lived a quiet life. Others say he ended up poor begging on the streets of London. Just 34 of the pirates who were part of Henry Every's expedition were arrested.
  
  Most were reckless, openly reselling large quantities of gemstones and Indian gold coins. Six ended up hanged in the public square. And as for the king of the pirates, he simply vanished into thin air.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez, and this has been an Ubisoft podcast produced by Paradiso Media. Thanks for listening.

The Buzzard: Serial Looter

• Michelle Rodriguez: One morning, in March of 1716, off the coast of the island of New Providence in the Bahamas, pirate captain Olivier Levasseur gazes out to sea aboard his ship, the Postillon, a swift yet light craft equipped with only four guns. Nicknamed the buzzard and known for his hit and run attacks, the French pirate has been sailing the seas around the Caribbean and Antilles for several months now, his ships hold bursting at the seams with loot ready to spend. Over the course of his adventures and encounters, Olivier Levasseur has heard of a certain Captain Hornigold, an English pirate said to have set up an outlaw post on NASA, the biggest island in the Bahamas.
  
  When finally reaching dry land, the buzzard is met with a warm welcome in the sight of hundreds of men, pirates, every one of them, as well as shops and taverns where he might spend his booty. Most important of all, he meets other ambitious captains keen on sailing the seas as outlaws. While his men busy themselves with rum and women, Olivier Levasseur sits at a table with a few other pirate captains.
  
  Together they decide to form a brotherhood, a group of bandits roaming the high seas. They call themselves the Flying Gang. And for years on end, they would go on to pillage and plunder the Caribbean, sowing terror in their wake.
  
  The Buzzard is the only Frenchman among these pirates and will soon forge a name and reputation for himself. And so a legend is born.
  
  Little is known of Olivier Levasseur, other than the fact that he was born in Calais on November 5th, 1695. Raised by his mother, he grew up in the company of sailors. His grandfather passed his passion for the open sea down to him, teaching him the basics of sailing and telling him tales of the most renowned French seafarers.
  
  At the tender age of 14, Levasseur joined a privateer crew tasked with protecting Francis' coast from English and Dutch ships, an experience that plunged him straight into the heart of the action. His ship took part in the War of the Spanish Succession that saw Louis XIV of France take on the old world's greatest powers. Levasseur disappears from view during this period, but his name resurfaced after the war, this time on the other side of the Atlantic, in the Antilles.
  
  No longer a lowly sailor, he was now captain of his own ship. He and his crew were part of a large fleet led by a French privateer, tasked with attacking and pillaging English and Dutch colonies in the Caribbean by royal order. In 1713, the French fleet managed to take the wealthy Dutch colony of Curaçao off the coast of Venezuela.
  
  After seven days of violent and bloody combat during which a number of fighters were tortured and killed, the French sailors slaughtered and imprisoned hundreds of enemy soldiers. It was a decisive victory that marked the end of a successful campaign. For Olivier Levasseur, these few months spent fighting were a revelation.
  
  He made a charismatic leader, loved by his men and capable of remarkable feats. But the War of the Spanish Succession drew to a close, and on August 24th, 1713, peace was declared, and the Atlantic privateers and buccaneers' work was done. Tens of thousands of men found themselves at a loss and out of a job overnight.
  
  The English Admiralty that had once provided livelihood for over 40,000 sailors during the war only kept 10,000 on once the peace was declared. The peace treaty had been signed. Many of these men had been roaming the seas around the Caribbean islands for over a decade by then.
  
  There was no way they were going back home to the old world. Some of them settled on the islands, while others decided to return to the sea and become bandits. From 1715 on, the governors of the European states in the islands noted a boom in the number of pirates sailing the seas.
  
  The Atlantic's warm waters were heaving with outlaws. And Olivier Levasseur was one of them. In early June 1715, he was an officer aboard the Postillon, a small French ship due to depart from Saint-Louis and Saint-Domingue to return to France.
  
  But the sailor had developed a taste for heavenly beaches and gold stacked up in holds of ships that cruised through the region. His heart was set on staying exactly where he was. In a matter of hours, he had convinced a dozen sailors to join him in a mutiny.
  
  On June 3, the rebels weighed anchor and ventured deep into the hold where they stashed their weapons. On deck, Levasseur raised his gun to the captain's head and ordered him to hand over control of the ship. Once the captain was off the ship, the mutineers decided to vote.
  
  Olivier Levasseur was officially appointed captain of the Postillon. Because the crew was too small to tackle the merchant ships, they made their way into Martinique for an important pit stop. While there, they stocked up on supplies and ammunition.
  
  And it was also a good opportunity to recruit more crewmates. In total, 30-odd men joined the new pirate captain. And the Postillon was ready to set out on the hunt.
  
  It didn't take Levasseur long to make his first haul. In the late summer of 1715, his ship came across a French vessel, and his pirate flag was hoisted for the first time. It was an image that would strike fear into the merchant ships and sailors.
  
  Four skulls and crossbones, complete with two white tears each, set against the black backdrop. This message was clear. Surrender or die?
  
  For the very first time, the Postillon's cannons roared, hurling cannonballs through the enemy ship and leaving its hull in tatters. The pirates may have been few in number, but they were valiant. Led on by their captain, they hoisted themselves aboard, rattling their cutlasses.
  
  As terrified sailors trembled. When the battle was over, the vanquished crew laid down their arms. And Olivier Levasseur, his hand resting on the pommel of his cutlass, was triumphant.
  
  His thick beard couldn't hide his smile. Drenched in blood, he had just taken his first ship and was now a true bandit of the seas. Over the course of over a year, the pirate crew sailed around the region, looting ships carrying precious cargo from the New World's European colonies.
  
  It was during this time that Captain Levasseur carved out something of a name for himself, earning the reputation as a bold, swift pirate who would swoop down on his prey like an eagle. And so, the Buzzard was born. After this year spent sailing around, the Buzzard arrived at the New Providence safe haven in the Bahamas, where Captain Hornigold had set up shop.
  
  Along with other outlaws such as Samuel Bellamy, Black Sam to his friends, and Edward Teach, also known as the infamous Blackbeard, they formed a brotherhood known as the Flying Gang. The Buzzard was the only Frenchman in the club, and he was respected and seen as a brother in arms by most of the men. As the summer of 1716 faded, Captain Hornigold was overturned, and Samuel Bellamy was elected head of the brotherhood.
  
  He and the Buzzard were close, and together they launched a series of attacks in the Virgin Islands, seizing ship after ship. In the spring of 1717, Levasseur had arrived back in New Providence when he had heard he lost his friend Bellamy at sea. Despite this news, the Frenchmen had no plans of slowing down.
  
  Yet there was trouble afoot. The endless assault and chaos brought about by thousands of pirates in the Caribbean had ultimately attracted the attention of Europe's major powers, who decided to get things back under control. In early 1718, George I of England sent out the message to all regions' pirates.
  
  Either they would agree to an amnesty and give up piracy for good, or they would be hunted down and taken straight to the gallows.
  
  Over in New Providence, the king's words rang out loud and clear, sending shockwaves through the pirate hideout. Many decided to take up the royal offer, while others, including Levasseur, categorically refused. They knew their days in the Caribbean were numbered, and it was time to set sail for safer shores.
  
  A year later, in January 1719, Olivier Levasseur and the Postillon could be found along the coast of Guinea in West Africa. This time, the Buzzard had joined forces with two English pirates who were running amok in the region. Their main targets were slave ships that carried human cargo to European colonies in the New World.
  
  But the Buzzard wasn't like his two partners. He was a charismatic, refined man who killed for business, not pleasure. He would spare the men, but ransack each ship's hold for treasure.
  
  On the other hand, the two Englishmen were vicious, bloodthirsty, pitiless criminals who would behead without a backwards glance, spilling blood as easily as they would rum. When they took a ship, it wasn't a pretty sight.
  
  In April 1719, the buzzard managed to save a captain from death, a Frenchman from Saint-Malo. Just as the rope was being knotted around his neck, Levasseur succeeded in persuading his two associates to let the man and his crew go free, allowing them to clamber aboard a makeshift raft and paddle towards the coast. In doing so, the buzzard took the French captain's ship for himself and left his now too small postillon to sink.
  
  This marked a turning point, and the French crew and English pirates parted ways. The buzzard turned south, heading toward the Cape of Good Hope and the Horn of Africa, where he decided to travel to the island of St. Marie, off the western coast of Madagascar. He knew this would be a safe haven for many pirates like himself, men who had fled the Caribbean, and he had hoped too that he would find sanctuary and new companions there.
  
  In the spring of 1720, Levasseur was preparing to set off from the island of Mayotte, in the Camorro Islands, northwest of Madagascar. There was no avoiding this spot on the way to the new promised land. But just as they weighed anchor, the ship collided with the shallows.
  
  The pirates managed to save the treasure in the hold and make it out with their lives, but the ship had sunk. The buzzard and his crew were saved by two pirate captains, Englishmen who had heard of the French Bandit. John Taylor and Edward England suggested Olivier Levasseur join them on a trip to the Indies, where they planned on filling their hold up with all the treasure they could find.
  
  It didn't take long for the buzzard to accept. A year later, however, the results were disappointing. They had barely earned enough to keep themselves afloat.
  
  Many of the men blamed one of the three captains, Edward England. During their campaign off the coast of India, Edward had systematically refused to attack English ships, allowing rivers of gold to slip through their fingers and denying them a small fortune. This was unforgivable.
  
  And in early spring of 1720, Edward England was marooned on a beach in Mauritius. The buzzard was at the helm of victory now, controlling the ship that belonged to the forsaken captain. He got to put his new vessel to the test soon enough.
  
  On April 26, the pirates drew into the bay of Saint Denis at Réunion Island. From the crow's nest, one of the men spotted a ship anchored near the coast, the Virgin of the Cape. Aboard this 800-ton, 72-gun Portuguese ship was Count Airicera, the viceroy of Goa in India.
  
  He was on his way back to Europe after 10 years spent overseas, and his hold was creaking under the weight of countless treasures, rich payment for a long campaign in Portugal's colonies. The Virgin of the Cape was in bad shape. The crew had survived a violent storm, and the damage was extensive.
  
  The rudder had taken a hit, and two thirds of the guns were either out of action or had fallen overboard. The ship's wooden framework was damaged too. The crew sought shelter on Réunion Island to repair the ship and enjoy the French governor's hospitality.
  
  That day, only the manual workers and a handful of lookouts were aboard the Virgin of the Cape, and the buzzard and Captain Taylor were closing in on them. In a bid to sneak by undetected, they flew English flags, but their ruse didn't work. The viceroy was suspicious and rushed aboard the ship with a few of his men.
  
  Once the pirates had drawn close enough to fire, they raised their black pirate flag. The attack was launched not even a mile off the coast. Taylor and the buzzard positioned themselves on either side of the deck, and dozens of cannonballs raised down on the Virgin of the Cape, dealing considerable damage.
  
  The Portuguese crew put up a brave fight. The guns that were still usable were put to work and hit their targets. A few hours later, Levasseur decided that he had had enough.
  
  It was time to finish them off, raising his cutlass high above his head. He called out to his men, giving them the signal to board the enemy ship. The pirates threw themselves onto the Portuguese decks and found themselves face to face with Portuguese soldiers and their muskets.
  
  Deafening gunfire rang out amidst the vicious carnage. The cutlass blades drew rivers of blood that rushed down the main deck, while the crowds on the shore watched in disbelief.
  
  Despite their valor, the Viceroy of Goa and his men had no choice but to lay down their arms. There were no match for the hundreds of crazed, relentless pirates. The end was near, and as the pirates eased themselves onto the hold, their jaws dropped.
  
  Before their eyes lay treasure, the likes of which they could never have imagined. Gems and jewels, coffers overflowing with coins of silver and gold, rare woods, sacks of precious gemstones in the finest of silky fabrics, and priceless vases. They even found a gold cross encrusted with over ₤20 worth of diamond.
  
  Some historians estimate the value of the treasure recovered by Buzzard and Taylor to be worth over $4 billion in today's money. It was the greatest pirate booty ever looted. Olivier Levasseur took the Portuguese ship as a prize and he renamed her the Victoroo.
  
  He had her towed to a safer bay where he had repairs carried out before setting off again alongside Captain Taylor. The two men knew there was a bounty on their heads now, so they made their way towards southern Madagascar. They had planned to seek shelter and lay low somewhere, but fortune had other plans in store.
  
  A new ship belonging to the French East India Company emerged on the horizon. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. Once again, the brothers-in-arms nabbed themselves a spectacular haul.
  
  This ship was due to carry supplies and slaves to the French colonies of Bourbon and Mauritius, and news that it had been taken infuriated the French authorities. That was the last straw. The pirates would be tracked down.
  
  Taylor and the Buzzard parted ways, with the English captain deciding to head back to the Atlantic. Olivier Levasseur, meanwhile, opted to set up base in Entongo, a quiet bay tucked away in Madagascar, just north of the pirate sanctuary in St. Marie. The French authorities offered him an amnesty deal several times, but the Buzzard was no fool.
  
  With all the crimes he had committed, he knew he would hang. All he had to do, he reasoned, was keep a low profile for a while. And that's precisely what he did for many years.
  
  He dropped off the radar until 1729, when it emerged that Levasseur had been working as a pilot in Entongo, climbing aboard ships and helping captains steer their way through the area's many danger spots. But one day, he ended up aboard the wrong ship, Le Maduce, owned by none other than the French East India Company. The captain would have recognized the buzzard anywhere, and the pirate was arrested on the spot.
  
  He was taken to Bourbon, where he was put on trial, and to nobody's great surprise, he was sentenced to death by hanging. On July 1730, he walked up to the gallows with dozens of onlookers watching as the executioner slipped the noose around his neck. Just before he died, Olivier Levasseur tossed a piece of paper bearing a mysterious cryptogram into the crowd.
  
  Legend has it that he then cried out, my treasure to whomever may find it. Three centuries later, people are still searching for the buzzard's legendary treasure.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez and this has been an Ubisoft podcast produced by Paradiso Media. Thanks for listening.

The Reluctant Pirate: William Kidd

• Michelle Rodriguez: It's Monday, October 30th, 1697, on the open Arabian Sea. Captain William Kidd is on the deck of his ship, Adventure Galley, an impressive frigate measuring just over 130 feet. Onboard are 160 men, primed to attack as soon as the order is given.
  
  William Kidd is not yet a pirate. At this point, he still thought of himself as a privateer, commissioned by the King of England to plunder and sink any enemy ships that stood in his way in the Indian Ocean. But in the fall of 1697, he was going through a rough patch.
  
  The English lords who had financed his voyage to the East Indies were still awaiting his return to the temps, expecting a hold bursting with spices, delicate fabrics and precious metals. But Kidd hadn't captured anything of significance, just enough to stock up on supplies.
  
  The crew were also starting to get fed up, living off of loot stolen from other ships. They had just one thing on their minds, attacking a large merchant vessel and hitting the jackpot. So, on October 30th, when a ship appeared on the horizon, they were all ready to attack.
  
  But William Kidd categorically refused. The vessel was Dutch, thus allies of the Kingdom of England, whose king, William III, was Dutch-born. What's more, she belonged to the powerful East India Company.
  
  Attacking this vessel was certain to make Kidd unpopular with the king and earn him a noose around his neck. But the sailors didn't care what flag the ship was flying. She had to be attacked.
  
  One of the adventure galley gunners, William Moore, spoke up against Captain Kidd. His tone was threatening. During the confrontation, Moore frantically gestured with the blade he had just sharpened.
  
  He had challenged the captain, threatening to stage a mutiny and leave Kidd on a deserted island.
  
  While the captain may have been cautious, he was also violent and cruel. Kidd grabbed a wooden barrel bound by metal hoops. He raised it to the sky and struck the gunner's head with a violent blow.
  
  William Moore collapsed in a pool of blood, unconscious. He died of his injuries the following morning. By killing one of his sailors, William Kidd had asserted his authority over a crew ready to mutiny.
  
  But he had also crossed the line that he couldn't come back from. Not wanting to become a pirate, he had instead become a murderer. If caught, he would be publicly hanged in London.
  
  His life would never be the same.
  
  To celebrate the release of the new Skull and Bones video game, discover the stories of some of the most infamous pirates of the Indian Ocean. The cruel, bloodthirsty privateers, buccaneers and sailors turned criminals terrorized and pillaged the seas. Pirates were not born, they were made.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez, and you're listening to Gangsters of the Seas.
  
  Like many sailors who scoured the seas searching for treasure in the 17th century, we don't know much about William Kidd when he was younger. He was born between 1645 and 1654 in Scotland, probably in Dundee, a large port town in the north of the UK. We know nothing about his mother, and all we know about his father is that he was a sailor.
  
  As soon as William Kidd became an adult, he crossed the Atlantic Ocean to New York, a New World colony the English had taken from the Dutch. The first mention of him dates from 1689. He was about 35 years old and commanding his own ship in the Caribbean, working as a buccaneer.
  
  Buccaneers weren't really pirates, and they weren't exactly privateers commissioned by the Admiralty. They were opportunists who sailed from island to island, willing to do anything to get their hands on riches and capture ships, ideally without angering any major maritime powers. Kidd was the captain of Blessed William, a small ship that was part of a fleet headed by Thomas Hewitzen, a cruel buccaneer based in Jamaica who waged naval warfare for the Kingdom of England.
  
  Together, they seized a lot of loot. Their best haul was from Marie-Golante, a French island near Guadalupe, island's few guards were no match for the horde of angry buccaneers. In just a few days, the town was pillaged and destroyed.
  
  Sometime later, Hewitzen and Kidd did the same to the French colonies of St. Bartholomew and St. Martin. William Kidd wasn't 40 years old and already he had ₤2,000 in his pocket. This was a lot of money for the time, equivalent to around $420,000.
  
  But this loot attracted unwanted attention and the buccaneer ended up going up against someone stronger.
  
  Shortly after his raids in the Caribbean, William Kidd crossed paths with Captain Culliford, a feared pirate of the warm Atlantic seas. The pirate stole his loot, ship and most of the crew. Captain Kidd was stripped of his post and left on dry land.
  
  He lost nearly everything, but he was determined to get back to the sea and managed to find a boat, a small merchant vessel called a sloop. Agile and requiring few crew members, these ships were popular with pirates. With this new boat, called Antigua, Kidd headed to New York.
  
  He settled in the English colony and gave up life at sea for a while, going into business and meeting people, including one woman in particular, Sarah Cox. She was just 20 years old, but had already been widowed once and remarried to a wealthy Dutch trader. However, this didn't stop her from falling for the Scottish sailor.
  
  Too bad for her husband, who soon died under suspicious circumstances, allowing Sarah Cox and William Kidd to marry just two days later. Thanks to his twice-widowed wife, who had inherited both her husband's wealth, Kidd became rich. His business prospered.
  
  For nearly five years, he lived the good life in the New World. Due to his experience as a sailor and close relationship with the governor of New York, he did a few favors and sometimes chased off pirates who sailed too close to shore. But after five years, life on land started getting old, and he was itching for life at sea and the beaches of the Caribbean.
  
  So, when an English acquaintance suggested that he head to London to mount an expedition in the Indian Ocean, William Kidd didn't think twice.
  
  The Indian Ocean was the new center of global piracy. Having pillaged the Caribbean, the sea's greatest pirates crossed the Gulf of Guinea and rounded the Cape of Good Hope before entering the warm seas of the Mozambique Channel. Immense riches circulated in this area.
  
  There were fine fabrics, coffee, spices, precious metals and slaves, not to mention curiosities from China. The cargo leaving Asia for Europe and the New World was coveted by the greatest plunderers of the seas. Europeans were not the only masters of the sea in this region.
  
  The East India companies contracted by European countries coexisted with merchant ships belonging to local powers. In India, the Mughal and the Maratha empires sold their goods for high sums, and their ships also crossed the seas to the south and the west of the subcontinent, providing new lucrative targets for pirates.
  
  In London, William Kidd was introduced to important English lords who were members of the Whigs, the dominant political party. Close to the king, these members of parliament were eager to finance an expedition to the Indian Ocean. They gave Captain Kidd ₤7,500, equivalent to more than $1.5 million dollars today, with which he acquired a brand new frigate, the Adventure Galley.
  
  She was a beautiful three master, weighing it at almost 325 tons and measuring at almost 125 feet with a row of galleys. It was hard work rowing at those ore stations, but it helped the ship's steering. With a crew of 160 men and 34 light cannons, the vessel was full of potential.
  
  Captain Kidd's letter of marque, a pass of admiralty and a permit to pillage, stated two missions. Rob French ships enemies of the English and sink pirates who had been robbing merchant ships traveling from Asia to Europe for years. This commission lasted until March 1697.
  
  Captain Kidd and the Adventure Galley set sail on February 27, 1696, along the River Thames. It was a slow journey that would lead the captain to a life of lawlessness and piracy.
  
  The start of the Adventure Galley's journey was far from smooth. As soon as the ship left the Thames, William Kidd had to give up part of his crew, which he had chosen with care, to a Royal Navy captain.
  
  Then, when he made a stopover in New York, the replacement crew members he recruited were anything but submissive. They negotiated higher salaries and a higher percentage of the future spoils, but the captain needed them, so he had to accept. To make matters worse, during the long crossing to Africa in the Cape of Good Hope, part of the sails ripped, considerably slowing the ship down.
  
  When she arrived in Southern Africa, even more of the crew was requisitioned, this time by a man of war.
  
  When her mission for the kingdom officially ended, the Adventure Galley was moored off the coast of Comoros, in the north of the Mozambique Channel. Kidd had only been granted until March 1697 for his mission, and had failed to capture a single ship. He had two choices, head to a port controlled by the English and try to get his letter of marque extended, or continue his journey and attack other ships without one.
  
  He chose the second option. Kidd knew that his powerful backers would never forgive him if he returned empty handed. And he had also invested a lot of his own money in his expedition.
  
  So, in the hope of breaking even, Kidd became a pirate. But he needed a larger crew, having lost 50 men to fever. He hired French buccaneers looking for a new ship and new plunder.
  
  In the fall of 1697, Captain Kidd was off the Indian coast. He then began a long journey across the seas in search of prey. But even after several months of sailing on the Indian Ocean, Adventure Galley still hadn't found anything to sink her teeth into.
  
  This brings us back into the opening scene. That fateful day in October when Captain Kidd killed his gunner, William Moore. A Dutch ship appeared on the horizon, the crew ready to make their attack and take their plunder.
  
  But Kidd made it clear, this was not a ship they would touch. And the only reason he refused to attack the Dutch ship was because he still hoped to be able to save his skin when he returned home.
  
  Luckily, soon the adventure galley caught her first break. Kidd and his crew were off the coast of the city of Khorakod, in India, when they spotted the Ruparel, a Moorish ship stuffed with precious fabrics. The merchants didn't stand a chance against the pirates.
  
  The boat was captured, her cargo pillaged, and the Ruparel joined the Scottish captain's fleet. But fortune didn't properly smile on William Kidd until January 30th, 1698. He was off the Malabar coast in western India, ideally located to attack ships with holds bursting with goods.
  
  One of the men in the crow's nest of the Adventure Galley spotted a sail on the horizon. It was the Quedagh Merchant, a ship belonging to the Mughal Empire. She had an English captain, commissioned by the French East India Company.
  
  Captain Kidd's two ships set course for her. They hoisted their sails, and the men in the galley started to row. The pirates reached the Quedagh Merchant in just four hours.
  
  Kidd boxed his prey in, positioning his ships in the front and the back to avoid being hit by her cannons. He then hoisted the French flag, matching the colors flown by the captain of the captain of the Kadha merchant. Captain Kidd's trick worked.
  
  The boxed in ship's captain came to parlay aboard the Adventure Galley. But as soon as he set foot on deck, the French flag was replaced by an English one. It was an act of piracy.
  
  The captain immediately realized he had been played, saying to William Kidd, "You've just gained quite a haul." And he wasn't lying. Aboard the Quedagh Merchant was incredibly valuable cargo.
  
  1,200 finely woven cotton garments, 1,400 sacks of brown sugar, 80 chests of opium, potassium nitrate, and large amounts of precious metals. All in all, the loot was worth ₹200,000. An astonishing treasure, equivalent to over 27 million dollars.
  
  Each sailor pocketed ₤170,000, or almost $200,000, a crazy sum for men usually paid ₤1 a month.
  
  Kidd hoped the spoils would save him on his return. Even if his mission had expired, he had taken a ship protected by the French. But the news hadn't yet reached the Indian Ocean.
  
  The war between England and France was over. This didn't bode well for Kidd, who had just committed an act of piracy. The Quedagh Merchant and her crew joined the small fleet led by the Adventure Galley.
  
  Three boats holed stuffed to the brim with loot, headed to St. Maria Island off the coast of Madagascar. There, Kidd proceeded to divvy up the treasure among his crew. Again, this was a breach of privateering rules, as privateers normally waited until their return to claim their loot.
  
  But St. Marie was a dangerous place for someone with full pockets. As a pirate hideout, it wasn't a place you'd want to hang around. When he dropped anchor by the small island, William Kidd ran into an old acquaintance, Captain Culliford, the same Culliford who had robbed him in the Caribbean several years earlier.
  
  This time, Kidd managed to keep a part of his treasure. After intense negotiations, he was allowed to leave with a skeleton crew and holds that weren't entirely empty. He decided to abandon the Adventure Galley and the Ruperel.
  
  The two ships were scuttled off the coast of the pirate hideout. Kidd kept the Quedagh Merchant, which he renamed the Adventure Prize.
  
  The captain set sail to return to New York on November 15th, 1698. But in the meantime, the tale of his activities had reached the ears of British politicians. The Whigs had lost control of the House of Lords, and his supporters were no longer any use to him.
  
  The Tories, the party that now had the majority in the House of Lords, declared William Kidd a pirate and put a price on his head.
  
  As if he knew what was coming, the captain of the Adventure Prize decided to stop in the Caribbean, where he hid part of his treasure and abandoned his impressive ship. He managed to pick up a small sloop, similar to the one that took him to New York after plundering the Marie Galante. While heading north, William Kidd made one last stop in Long Island, where he hid the rest of his treasure.
  
  He thought he might be able to use it to pay for his freedom if he was arrested when he arrived in New York. And indeed, when William Kidd set foot in the English colony, they were waiting for him. The governor, who was one of his backers, had ordered his arrest.
  
  Following orders from London, the pirate was locked up in prison, awaiting to be sent back to England. A few months later, William Kidd faced British judges. No matter how hard he tried to defend himself, explaining that he hadn't attacked any ships allied with the Crown of England and had brought back a vast hoard of treasure, the location of which he promised to reveal, he didn't make any difference.
  
  The pirate, who wasn't allowed to have a lawyer present, realized that without political support, he was finished.
  
  On January 23rd, 1701, Kidd was sentenced to death by hanging. He was led to the public square. The hangman put the noose around his neck before activating the trap door beneath his feet.
  
  But the rope broke under his weight. Normally, custom dictated that the prisoner be pardoned if the rope breaks. It was seen as divine intervention.
  
  But William Kidd wasn't so lucky. He was hanged a second time just a few minutes later.
  
  A tragic end to a privateer turned reluctant pirate.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez, and this has been an Ubisoft podcast produced by Paradiso Media. Thanks for listening.

The Pirate Admiral: Kanhoji Angre

• Michelle Rodriguez: It's December 1707, and we're just 60 miles or so north of Goa, off India's western coast. Kanhoji Angre looks out from atop the rampart walk at the sea fort of which he is governor, surveying the bustling port at his feet. Dozens of merchant ships glide in and out, docking at the quays, filling their holds with spices, fine silks and precious metals.
  
  He watches on as even more armed ships stock up on supplies before setting sail for new adventures.
  
  He gazes out to sea, scanning the horizon in the distance as the Arabian Sea rolls endlessly on. It's the largest sea in the Indian Ocean, a vast expanse of water stretching from the Indian coast to the east, to the Horn of Africa, to the west. His word is already law in these waters.
  
  And he plans on becoming the unchallenged ruler of its waves. Today has been a milestone moment in making his vision reality. Kanhoji Angre has just come out of a meeting with the king of the Maratha Empire, who has appointed him head of the Navy.
  
  In exchange for his invaluable political support, Kanhoji Angria has been granted full control over the Maratha fleet. All the forts and the infrastructure along the Empire's nearly 315 miles of coastline. Feared by Europe's powers, this sea captain now boasts a strike force greater than any Indian before him.
  
  At just 29 years old, Kanhoji Angria is only just getting started. An admiral to the Maratha, a pirate to the ship's flying European flags, he will go on to become one of the most powerful sailors to ever roam the Indian Ocean.
  
  To celebrate the release of the new Skull and Bones video game, discover the stories of some of the most infamous pirates of the Indian Ocean. The cruel, bloodthirsty privateers, buccaneers and sailors turned criminals terrorized and pillaged the seas. Pirates were not born, they were made.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez, and you're listening to Gangsters of the Seas.
  
  Kanhoji Angria was born in August 1669 in a military fort on a small island around 65 miles south of Mumbai. His father was a respected sailor under the orders of the Maratha Empire. The Maratha caste was formed of farmers and sailors on India's west coast, whose territory spanned from Mumbai in the north to Goa in the south, encompassing vast stretches of inland areas.
  
  India at the time was under Mughal rule, but the Hindu Maratha gradually gained their independence from the great Mughal. From the mid-17th century on, their leader, Shivaji, launched ambitious territorial conquests.
  
  Although smaller in number and less well-equipped, the Maratha army succeeded in containing the offensives launched by their powerful neighbor, and even gained ground. To consolidate his position, the Maratha king took to the seas.
  
  The Mughals had always overlooked their navy, preferring to conquer on foot or horseback. The sea was left to the traders. But the Maratha saw things differently and were quick to grasp that controlling waters and the coastline was a good strategic move for two reasons.
  
  It made sense from a military standpoint because a powerful navy meant enemy troops would be restricted to attacking on land should they decide to invade Maratha country. It made sense financially too. Made a lot of sense, in fact.
  
  Why? Because India in the mid-17th century found itself at the center of a brand new trade route that European powers were looking to develop. From the Cape of Good Hope to the Chinese coast, the Old World Kingdoms plan on exporting the huge wealth and riches of the East westwards.
  
  Rare spices, precious metals and gemstones, exotic fabrics, all treasures that would, at some point or another, need to travel through India. The profit at stake was colossal.
  
  And this is the world that Kanhoji Angre was born into. Like his father and most of the men around him, he had his heart set on taking to the sea. And so he joined the Maratha Navy in 1689 at the tender age of 20.
  
  He learned the ropes under the watchful eye of his father, who had 200 sailors under his command. And thanks to his daring and valor, the young man quickly made a name for himself. At the start of his career, Kanhoji Angria was mostly involved in capturing Mughal merchant ships.
  
  The Muslim enemies made for juicy targets. Most of the ships that skimmed past the Maratha coast had little in the way of armory and much in their holds. Most were bound for Surat, the northern Indian state of Gujarat, or heading for the Red Sea and the Arabian Peninsula.
  
  Operating out of their fort's home port south of Mumbai, the Maratha sailors captured ship after ship, hunting them down at the faintest glimmer of a fluttering sail. Their gallivats, small, swift boats equipped with sails and rows of galleys, rushing their targets as the latter watched on helplessly.
  
  A couple of cannon shots would be fired and the sailors would swarm the decks. Their enemies were no match for Kanhoji Angre and his Maratha sailors. They could be cruel and vicious indeed, slitting the throat of the first sailor to refuse submission.
  
  Once a ship was captured, it would be brought back to port and drained of its riches. Any cargo seized would be fed back into the local economy, while weapons and ammunition were transferred over to their own ships.
  
  Kanhoji Angre made a name for himself with these battles. He was often the first to clamor onto the enemy's deck, and he was known for his swordsmanship. He was also an excellent seaman, with a keen sense of the winds and tides that lapped on western India's shores.
  
  It didn't take long for him to become a true leader of men. Word of his exploits and the many ships he had captured traveled to the Maratha King. In 1680, when one of his admirals died at sea, the sovereign turned to Kanhoji Angre.
  
  Even though he wasn't even 30 at the time, he became the commander of over a thousand men and several dozen armed ships. The young admiral had his sights set on harnessing this new strike force to power his personal ambitions. Stripping the Mughal ships of their bounty wasn't enough anymore.
  
  His attention had turned to western ships instead. It was at this point that Kanhoji Angre became a pirate admiral. The Europeans had only been active in the region for a few dozen years by then and were seeking to consolidate their foothold.
  
  In a bid to map out shipping routes, set up trading posts and forge commercial partnerships with local powers, the western kingdoms outsourced the heavy lifting to private trading companies, with England's East India Company becoming one of the biggest and best known. But it wasn't the only one. The French, Portuguese and Dutch dispatched their own towering ships to secure influence in the region too.
  
  The East India Trading Companies had one priority above all, to build trade links, as was the case between England and the Mughal Empire from mid 17th century on. But kickback from local communities meant governors and their private owners and their private armies didn't waste time negotiating. These all-powerful companies weren't exactly benevolent when it came to the local peoples.
  
  When carving out a slice of the riches that abounded in India and other countries in the East, there were no rules. Yet the freshly appointed Admiral wasn't phased by this threat. At the start of 1702, Kanhoji Angre was at sea within striking distance of his home port when he took on an English merchant ship on its way from Calicut in the south of India.
  
  The six men aboard the ship threatened to report him to the governor of Mumbai, but the Maratha held their ground. Kanhoji Angria decided to seize this ship and imprison the crew. While this might not have been one of his most remarkable feats, it got the message across.
  
  These waters were his waters, and if the Europeans planned on venturing into them, they would have to bow down to him.
  
  Many years went by, and the Indian Admiral continued to make life difficult for the ships that kept coming. Time after time, the pattern was repeated. Overly confident English, Dutch or Portuguese ships would drift too close to the Maratha shores and get picked off.
  
  As Kanhoji Angre coffers piled even higher, his prisons began bursting at the seams.
  
  In March 1707, he leveled up. After several days on patrol, he ran into the Bombay, one of the enormous merchant ships in the East India Company's fleet. Armed with a dozen guns, and with a crew of 150 men, it was a completely different kind of target.
  
  And yet, Angria took it in stride. He set out with several ships and ordered the attack. The Maratha sailors sprang into action, surrounding the English vessel.
  
  The air filled with a thundering of the cannons, and the first to strike were the Indians. They had managed to hit the enemy's mast. The hull came next, shattering under the blows.
  
  Despite the hellfire raining down on them, the company sailors continued to battle on, refusing to back down even as the grapple hooks hit their main deck. They took aim with their muskets, ready to fire. But they were no match for Kanhoji Angre and his men.
  
  The Indians came rushing down the deck, cutting down their enemies with their cutlasses. The battle was a bloodbath, resulting in English defeat. The pirate admiral ordered his men to empty the holds and transfer the prisoners, and had a mound of gunpowder kegs piled at the center of the ship.
  
  He lit the fuse and watched as the Bombay went up in flames, swallowed by an explosion of gunpowder and timber.
  
  Back in London and other European capitals, Kanhoji Angre was becoming famous. The Maratha shores were now to be feared, and to make matters worse, the man everybody considered a high-flying pirate was readying himself to rise up the ranks. Kanhoji Angria was now a respected sailor, known far and wide across the Maratha land as an important man whose support was key to rising to power.
  
  As 1707 drew to a close, drama engulfed the imperial court, a battle pitting two potential successors to the throne. One had the admiral support, the other didn't. To tilt the balance in his favor, the latter offered to strike a deal with Angria.
  
  In return for the admiral support, he would make him overall commander of the entire Maratha fleet. That would mean thousands of men and hundreds of ships at his disposal. Angria would also have carte blanche to deploy the strategy he had in mind.
  
  The offer was almost too good to be true. All he had to do was accept, and that's precisely what he did. With his new power, Kanhoji Angria embarked on major works, ordering forts to be built along the full length of the coast.
  
  He intended to have 26 fortresses dotted along the shore, from north to south. Every cove, every bay, every inlet would be covered. He also built shipyards to renovate and bolster his fleet.
  
  And most important of all, he switched strategy in his dealings with Europe's merchant ships. They were now welcome in the Empire's ports on one condition. They would need to pay a hefty tax.
  
  Any captain who refused would be killed, their ship pillaged and seized. Kanhoji Angre also put together a competent staff in trusting seasoned European deserters with his biggest ships. English and Dutch pirates found themselves at the helm of Indian vessels of war.
  
  For the position of Master Gunner, he chose James Plantain, a Jamaican pirate and naval armory expert who had docked in India a few months earlier. But the European companies were not impressed by the Maratha chief's new tax and strategy. They refused to be blackmailed by a man who they considered to be a pirate, whatever the cost.
  
  On November 4th, 1712, the HCS Algerin, a ship belonging to the East India Company's governor in Mumbai, was attacked for refusing to pay port entry tax. The Indian sailors seized the ship, killed one of the company's English officers, and took his wife hostage. Kanhoji Angre demanded a ransom of 30,000 rupees for a safe return, and the English complied.
  
  Their ship was returned to them, albeit severely damaged, with empty holds. A few weeks later, the chief commander of a Maratha fleet captured a man of war, a Portuguese galleon with three masts and 30 guns. Ship after ship was seized, as William Ace Le B, governor of the East India Company, was forced to face the facts.
  
  He negotiated with Angria and agreed to pay the tax. But the truce was short-lived. In 1715, Ace Le B returned to England and his successor, Charles Boone, went back on their agreement.
  
  In fact, one of the first orders of the company's directors was to capture Kanhoji Angre. Once in Mumbai, the new governor launched an attack. This was no cause for concern for the Maratha pirate.
  
  His fleet managed to contain the English offences. In retaliation, Kanhoji Angre captured three of the East India Company's merchant ships, ransacked their holds and demanded a ransom for their crews. Once again, he got what he asked for.
  
  The English decided to turn to the Portuguese for help. They too had been impacted by the Maratha chief's pirate activities. Together, they came up with a plan for a large-scale operation.
  
  On November 29, 1721, four men of wars, each armed with over 60 guns and 6,000 soldiers, arrived at a fortress near Mumbai where Kanhoji Angre was staying. But the armada led by Commander Thomas Matthews ran into a problem. The Maratha fortress was impregnable, defended by Indian ships that proved terrifyingly effective.
  
  The Indians' attack on the English and Portuguese ships caused huge losses, allowing the Indian sailors to gain the upper hand. The four English ships were forced to turn back, and once again the invincible pirate emerged victorious. After this crushing defeat, Commander Thomas Matthews returned to England, where he was tried for treason.
  
  Nobody in London understood how the Indian pirate could have resisted the onslaught without his help. In 1723, the East India Company appointed a new governor, a man who decided not to repeat his predecessor's mistakes, and opted for appeasement. With peace restored and the Imperial Maratha rule in decline, Kanhoji Angre seized the opportunity to seize even more power.
  
  He continued his expansion, conquered more territories, and even had his own coins minted. On July 4, 1729, 60-year-old Kanhoji Angre died of old age. India's greatest pirate, to European eyes at least, had left this world having succeeded in building an empire within an empire.
  
  He is still hailed today as a major historical figure of the subcontinent, and even lent his name to the Indian Navy's headquarters.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez, and this has been an Ubisoft podcast produced by Paradiso Media. Thanks for listening.

Freedom Is The Greatest Treasure: Mathurin Desmarestz

• Michelle Rodriguez: It's Thursday, February 19th, 1688, off the coast of Ilavache, south of Saint-Domingue. Quartermaster Mathurin Desmarestz standing on the deck of the Santa Rosa, a Spanish 14-gun frigate. The sun is setting, the sky darkening, but the 70 sailors on board are living it up.
  
  The rum is flowing and the sea shanties echo out into the darkness. The sailors on board are dancing, shouting and brandishing their swords to the heavens as one.
  
  48 hours earlier, Mathurin Desmarestz and his travel companions were being held on an island by the French Navy. For these buccaneers who answered an omen, it was akin to being thrown in jail. Their only wish was to sail where the mood and the wind took them, always on a permanent quest for new spoils, and they could not accept being held back.
  
  Today, though, they are free once more. The pirates made a successful getaway. Under the cover of dusky shadows, they boarded a vessel, weighed anchor and set off towards the south.
  
  For the quartermaster Desmaretz, this would be the start of a pirating adventure that would take him across the world.
  
  To celebrate the release of the new Skull and Bones video game, discover the stories of some of the most infamous pirates of the Indian Ocean. The cruel, bloodthirsty privateers, buccaneers and sailors turned criminals terrorized and pillaged the seas. Pirates were not born, they were made.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez, and you're listening to Gangsters of the Seas.
  
  Some pirates are opportunists, others are born for it. Mathurin Desmaretz was the second kind of pirate, at home on the seven seas. He was a true outlaw, an insatiable bandit sailing from target to target.
  
  His seafaring history is teeming with mystery and legend. All his crew knew about him was that he was born in France, somewhere on the Atlantic coast, probably around 1650. He must have been around 30 when he started making a name for himself.
  
  At this time, Mathurin Desmaretz was set up on the French side of the island of Saint-Domingue, a former Spanish colony captured by the French a few decades earlier.
  
  St. Domain and Tortuga Island to its north were well-known spots for privateers and buccaneers. Privateers work on commission, like sailors for hire, and remain within a given geographic area. Buccaneers, however, are not even really sailors.
  
  They are hunters, pillagers. They sail on privateer vessels when needed for missions, but always come back to land afterwards. Privateers and buccaneers created a brotherhood with a system of rules and an honor code.
  
  Under the self-styled name of the Brethren of the Coast, they were essentially based on Tortuga Island. Mathurin Desmarestz was one of them. In 1686, he boarded a ship captained by the privateer Lorenz de Graff.
  
  This Dutch-born French captain was commissioned to hunt enemy ships. It was a win-win. Privateers took home some coin and France weakened its enemy's navies.
  
  During the summer, Mathurin Desmaretz was involved in the boarding of a small Spanish frigate, the Santa Rosa, near Cartagena in Colombia. The French privateers stood strong in the face of cannon fire. They started boarding and reached the vessel.
  
  The fighting was violent. Some privateers were killed. Others maimed.
  
  Despite this, Desmaretz and his crew ultimately subdued the Spanish sailors. The captain took control of the Santa Rosa and set sail.
  
  Although Lawrence de Graaff and his crew were adventurers sent on behalf of the governor of Saint-Domingue, they remained cruel, bloodthirsty pillagers at heart. As they were increasingly becoming a nuisance, the authorities eventually caught up with them. The governor ordered them to relocate to Ilavache.
  
  This former pirate hangout south of the island of Hispaniola had become the garrison for the buccaneers and privateers brought to heel. Once here, they could take to the seas only if so ordered by the admiral governing the island. And they would not be able to attack other ships when doing so.
  
  A few hundred buccaneers were stuck on the island. Mathurin Desmarestz himself, among them, wasn't planning to stick around. He wanted to be back at sea.
  
  And in particular, he wanted to be free. At the start of 1688, the governor of St. Domaine was preparing to check on the privateers held on the island. And Desmaretz was setting up a crew of 70 men who refused to be held down.
  
  With the support of Lorenz de Graff, the men boarded the Santa Rosa at dusk on February 18th, 1688. They raised anchor and set sail. Mathurin Desmaretz then became more than a simple buccaneer happy to do dirty work.
  
  With Jean Charpeau, elected captain, Desmaretz was appointed quartermaster. He would therefore manage the navigation organization and the supplies for the ship. Desmaretz was the captain's right-hand man.
  
  With the Isle of Vache behind them, the Santa Rosa and her crew set off for Roatan, an island off the coast of Honduras. They were on the hunt for the Spanish ships transporting the wealth of the colonies back to Europe.
  
  Upon their arrival, they met Jean Fatton, another notorious privateer who had washed up there a few months earlier. They were members of the Brethren of the Coast. It was only natural, therefore, that they joined the Santa Rosa.
  
  In October 1688, they were spotted in Newcastle, on the Delaware coast. They were coming to sell the cargo of the Dutch vessel captured a few months prior. Charpin was no longer captain of the Santa Rosa at this point.
  
  He had been left along the American coast and replaced by Jean Faton. The new captain wanted a change of scenery, and so he suggested to his crew that they set off for Africa. The eastern waters were safer, as pirates like themselves were being permanently pursued in the Caribbean.
  
  In March of 1689, after several long weeks at sea, the pirate ship finally spotted the islands of Cape Verde. The voyage was rough and took a toll on the ship. Mathurin Desmaretz did not have time to drop anchor, though, as he quickly realized that a nasty surprise was waiting for them.
  
  They were boarded by a French military vessel commanded by Captain Jean Ducasse. Ducasse needed them for a mission he was conducting against the Dutch colony of Suriname in South America. He immediately requisitioned the pirate ship and her crew.
  
  Their strive for freedom was once again out of their grasp. Although the captain allowed them to capture the Spanish ship en route, the expedition did not go as smoothly as planned. The French fleet was not even able to attack the Dutch territories.
  
  A little later, after helping take back the island of St. Kitts, the pirate crew was finally able to break free from the clutches of Jean Ducasse.
  
  They sailed to Martinique, where the quartermaster intended to leverage his network. Once there, the Count of Blenoc, the governor of Antille, provided his assistance. After all, they were friends and money had changed hands.
  
  With the Count's support, Mathurin Desmarestz, bought his own ship, the Machine, a merchant vessel that could carry a crew of 120. Some months later, in June 1690, Desmaretz captured his first loot as captain. It all happened off the coast of Trinidad.
  
  He had been following the Ballista, a towering Spanish ship for several days. The French captain decided the time was right for an attack. He fired a few warning shots and started circling the ship.
  
  When they were close enough, the crew slung their grappling hooks and climbed aboard.
  
  Once on board, the French crew didn't hold back. They ran across the main deck, yelling and waving their weapons as they went. Sword and dagger strikes rained down on their enemies and the deck was bathed in blood.
  
  Mathurin Desmarestz ordered a search of all the decks, piece by piece. Once the final holdouts had been killed or thrown to the waves, the captain started the tally. He was not disappointed.
  
  In the cargo hold, the pirates had found nearly 45 tons of cocoa, 3,000 flasks of Madeira wine, dozens of iron and steel chests and rolls of fine silk. The plentiful spoils would allow Desmaretz to start a new ambitious campaign. He left the helm of the machine to one of his crew members, the pirate Etienne de Montembeau, and took control of the Spanish vessel, which he renamed the Belle Estrelle.
  
  In the summer of 1691, both pirate ships arrived in Montenegro. Desmaretz was not planning on hanging around, though. His protector, the Count of Belénac, had returned to France.
  
  And Desmaretz knew that his successor would likely have him arrested. He stayed long enough to stock up on food and munitions and added 10 guns to his new ship. The machine and the Belle Estrelle sailed eastward to the African coast.
  
  The captain ordered a first stop in the Azores in early 1692. This stop lasted longer than planned due to the unexpected series of easy loot. Ship after ship passed within range of his guns, all were attacked.
  
  In a few short months, the pirates had captured a good seven Dutch and English ships. After this fruitful interlude, Desmaretz decided to follow the African coast line south. He knew that around the coast of Gambia, he could easily attack slave traders sailing to the Americas and the Caribbean colonies.
  
  Their precious human cargo was worth its weight in gold.
  
  However, the Bellis Trail was quickly spotted. In December 1692, an agent of the Royal African Company reported multiple attacks from the French pirate in a message sent to London. He described the bloodthirstiness of the crew and expressed the concerns of the trading companies working in the region.
  
  But Demarest did not spend too long in Gambia either. He continued his path southward. An idea had been gnawing at him for months.
  
  He wanted to reach the Indian Ocean and continue to the Red Sea. Throughout his travels, he had heard rumors of this new sea, a land of plenty for pirates. His head swirled with stories of exploits of the English pirates there.
  
  He had heard tales of the Mughal vessels whose holds abounded with fantastic treasure, enough loot to keep the crew comfortable for several lifetimes. These stories were all Mathurin Desmarestz needed to weigh anchor.
  
  At the end of their long voyage, the French pirate crew wasted no time upon their arrival in the Red Sea. Sailing from south to north, from Yemen to Surat, they attacked all Mughal and Arabian vessels whose paths they crossed. From small trading boats to armed navy ships, nothing would stop Mathurin Desmaretz.
  
  The captain himself headed the boarding each time. He built a notorious name for himself over time. Stories of his sudden attacks, of bee-headed corpses, and the countless dead bodies thrown overboard struck terror into the hearts of the Indian sailors.
  
  For more than two years, the crew of the Belle Astrale prowled the Red Sea. Mathurin Desmaretz didn't even bother sailing back down to Madagascar to spend some of his loot, finding supplies and provisions along the coast of Arabia and Africa. Slowly but surely, his hold became full of remarkable treasure.
  
  However, Desmaretz kept playing with fire and putting himself at risk. During the boarding of a Mughal vessel that was much larger and better armed than the Belestrel, she took serious damage. Multiple cannon shots tore through the hull and the sails of the pirate frigate.
  
  Captain Desmaretz was forced to retreat.
  
  In September 1694, after several weeks at sea, he landed at the port of Rajapur in India. This area, halfway between Goa and Mumbai, was controlled by the English and their East India Company. They were not gracious hosts.
  
  If they had recognized the captain of the Belestrel, they would have certainly been tempted to deliver him to the Magal emperor, whose ships had been under attack for months. But Desmaretz did not stick around. Rather than having his boat repaired there, he chose instead to purchase a grab, a small Indian boat.
  
  This second vessel would allow him to save his crew and some of his loot if the Belestrel ended up sinking. With the good winds in his sails, Mathurin Desmaretz was able to make it to the small island of Mawali in the Comoros Archipelago. With its base surrounded by rays of sharp rocks, he would be able to keep curious vessels away and repair the Belestrel in peace.
  
  Several weeks of work later, the pirate ship was finally ready to set sail once again. Laid in with treasures, Captain Desmaretz hoped to make a triumphant return to Martinique and enjoy his new fortune.
  
  Unfortunately, his luck turned. As he was leaving the port of Mawali, a violent storm broke out.
  
  Powerful gales battered the sails of the ship, pushing her dangerously close to the rocks. Despite his desperate maneuvers, Desmaretz was powerless. And the Belestrel broke up, sinking at the entrance to the bay.
  
  The crew had just enough time to save a small portion of the treasure and weapons stored in the hold. Now, though, the sailors had to make it back to dry land.
  
  Desmaretz had no choice but to send six of his men to the neighboring island of Nizhwani to purchase a new ship. This island had a lot more foot traffic though. The pirates were quickly spotted.
  
  English pirate Henry Every, who had stopped on his way to the Indian Ocean, confiscated the gold they had on them. The six men were forced to explain what had happened to them, and to reveal the position of the rest of the crew. Some days later, Mathurin Desmaretz was able to make out the sails of Captain Every's towering ship on the horizon, as it made its way towards Mowali.
  
  He took his crew and attempted to find refuge inland. Despite their efforts, Every ultimately captured 50 of his men, forcing them into his own crew. Only a handful of them evaded capture.
  
  In 1697, Mathurin Desmaretz resurfaced on La Reunion, then called the Boubon Island. He had undertaken a difficult voyage on a small boat from the Comoros. With him were just a few sick and exhausted men.
  
  The French pirate had lost everything, his treasure, his crew and his ship. He was only 44, but looked a good 15 years older. He was sick, weak and had lost an arm.
  
  Given his pitiful state, he was granted amnesty by the governor of the island, who felt sorry for him and forgave his criminal past. Full of new hope, he married a 17-year-old Creole widow that year. At the wedding, he finally revealed his true identity.
  
  He was really called Isaac Verrette. He was just an average Joe from Sainte, a small town in the Charent region of Western France. After a life adventuring on the high seas, he died just three years later.
  
  As penniless as when he set out.
  
  I'm Michelle Rodriguez and this has been an Ubisoft podcast produced by Paradiso Media. Thanks for listening.