There is a warm breeze blowing through my window, which I greet with a bit of regret. It reminds me of my youth and my days in the Caribbean. How many days I have left on this Earth I do not know, but before I leave I shall recount my time in those foreign waters if only to set the record straight. When I pass people might say all kinds of things about me, and many of them are to be true indeed, but I shall swear to the truth of my account. Many generations after me will have to inherit my deeds and reputation, and for them, I recount these tales.
My name is Don Francesc de Puyol Arago, better known to the world as the pirate "Captain Torero". I do not deny that I participated in the attacks of foreign vessels, but I did so as a Corsario and not as a Pirate. That my crew, friends, and allies fought against the scourge of piracy that infested those territories. We helped to destroy their terror empire and did not contribute to it.
To clear my family name and for the honor of my descendants, I shall leave this written declaration of truth. I shall take full responsibility no matter the consequence. They are for my actions alone and let no one else is blamed.
To do so I must take you back to my days in the Spanish Navy, and when I was stationed in Havana, Cuba. It started in 1716, and I was a lieutenant on the Galleon Isabella, we were a part go the Flota de Indias. This was a fleet of 50 ships sent to the Americas to bring back the accumulated wealth taken from mines, plantations, and general commerce and to bring it back to Spain. We were the armed protection for the cargo against pirates and foreign attackers.
We made the trip from Tenerife to Havana with no difficulty, but of course, our cargo was less valuable. It was on our return journey to Cadiz, fully loaded with gold and silver, that we became a pirate's wet dream. No doubt enemy vessels would like to sink us as we would make high strategic targets. The war plaguing Europe was expensive for all and the wealth we were bringing to Spain was badly needed as all nations were being buried in debt. This could change Spain's fortunes in many ways.
We were heading up the coast of Florida following the Gulf Stream, knowing that these waters were havens for Pirates, who had free run of the nearby Bahamas Islands. We felt confident that the sheer size of the fleet might deter attacks but we underestimated the audacity of ruthless me. In the wild a predator will stir a large group of prey and target the weak, unfortunately, we were the weak prey on that untimely day.
We were the rear guard, along with 2 other Galleons. We protected 3 cargo ships the envoy. We had the size advantage as well as guns, but the pirates had speed and surprise on their side. It was in the early morning after we had just pulled anchor. We were the last five ships to set sail that morning and were slow to catch our wind. They made their move, they came with 11 ships of their own. 7 Sloops and 4 frigates. The frigates lead out from the Florida coast and positioned themselves in canon range to draw fire and provide cover. They singled out our 5 ships from the rest. The 7 pirate sloops attacked from all sides, and with their speed and maneuverability, they were able to take out our steering and inflict severe damage upon the other ships. We were dead in the water and the others in the fleet would not risk coming back to save us. It was an easy sea victory that was over before it was started, thanks to the vast experience of the pirates and the poor capabilities of our ships. If we would have been able to get in defensive lines, our superior firepower would have ripped them apart, but the speed of their attack was key.
After the canon fire stopped, the pirates stormed aboard with pistols and swords. I crossed blades with a couple, managing to disarm one and wounding another. We held them off at first but waves of them kept spilling over to the point our Captain felt resistance was futile. He surrendered the ship as did the other four ships' Captains.
The Pirates marooned some of the crew to the Florida coast, killed the stubborn captives, and took the rest back with them to their base of operations to be slaves. I was among those taken to their stockades on Pirate Island.
Pirate island was the main base and stronghold of these powerful Buccaneers. On the island was the home of the Pirate King. Through a series of alliances, Pirate in fighting, votes, and general ruthless behavior, he became King Henry. He was not of any royal blood, only made King by the blood he spilled. Captain Henry Teach, he had started as, and soon became known as "The Grimm Reaper of the West Indies". Many of the Pirate Captains had honor codes and were Privateers working under letters of the Marque and reprisal. So they were licensed by their Governments to commit acts of war against foreign ships. The Pirates working under The Pirate King were mercenaries and thieves. They had no commissions only greed. The power and influence of King Henry had kept them in line. There were no seas to hide in if you betrayed him, such was the extent of his influence. Such was the size of his fleet and the skill of these marauders, that even the mighty powers of Europe were helpless. That was large because Europe was at war with each other like always, and all their best resources were put into fighting those battles. Which meant that the Americas were at the mercy of outlaws, tyrants, and corruption.
So they towed their spoils and treasure back to their fortress on Pirate Island and put us into the stockades. The Pirates used us to build new housing, unload cargo, clean their messes, or do any other labor they didn't want to do. If you refused or became useless to them, you were killed. If they took a shine to you, some were offered to join them.
For those like me who didn't see honor in their life, we remained as their prisoners. Kept in dungeons when we weren't working, chained even when we were. Little food and water was ever given to us and what was given would make a maggot ill.
There was an enormous harbor where the main fortification was around the mouth of a river. Cargo was unloaded at the fort mainly but smaller ships were taken a couple of miles inland to the massive home of the King. The fort built around his home was even more impressive than the one at the harbor, for it is believed that the main treasure store was kept there. Many of the other ship Captains in the Pirate fleet kept homes deep into the hills as well, while the housing for most was around the miles of shore. You only need to declare a spot of your own, and it was yours, for there was plenty of land for all. The main town consisted of countless bars and brothels, which were often hard to tell the difference. There wasn't anything in the way of markets for food or goods. What they looted and stole was divided fairly amongst the men and all squabbles or discontent was settled fast. When they needed something, a raid was made. They were often gone for long periods, so they were little effort in the way of beautification and cleanliness.
As prisoners, we were kept on a series of ships sitting in the harbor and locked in the converted small quarters. Many of the men died of disease due to poor conditions, but there were always more replacements. The intense labor, heat, insects, and even crocodiles were just some of the hazards for us as prisoners. To clean us up on occasion, they'd take us to swim in the river. We'd all be chained together to keep us from escaping, but the problem is the river had recently become home to alligators. Some of the pirates decided to bring some back from Florida as pets or I don't know what but couldn't handle them. So now they're breading and expanding on the island. So when we go into the river, the alligators come over to feed. When you're chained to others, sometimes you can't just get out of the water.
I spent most of my time working to construct new fortifications on the island. Some are on the main island but we would be taken to work on some on the surrounding islands. It wasn't a secret where they were but it was becoming increasingly difficult for even the strongest fleet to consider a raid on them. In the prisons are people from all around the world. Different languages, races, and from all walks of life. The one thing we all have in common is that we are miserable. We don't talk amongst ourselves aside from the odd fistfight. If we kill one another it isn't as if the pirates care.
King Henry doesn't go out on raids very often and is usually supervising projects around the islands. He is more governor and bureaucrat than marauder, but that hasn't made him any less dangerous. I thought I'd die on that miserable island, and often thought I had. It seemed to me that the pirate of the island was mainly of English background for I rarely heard any of them speak another language or hear a different accent. We'd see a fleet leave and the island would become rather quiet around the man town. The women in the brothels would keep to themselves and away from us, and the bars closed their doors waiting to be resupplied. We were given a little more leeway by the guards left behind, mostly younger blokes, but a steady eye from the fort kept us from making a move.
When the fleet would come back, it became all matter of chaos. The streets would fill with drunks and women. The party would go on for days until they had their fill. We'd do all the heavy lifting of unloading cargo, except for the most precious of the lot. New prisoners would come in and the jails would be overflowing for a while. Then they'd start dying off again, it was a predictable cycle of events. It felt like I was there for years but the reality was that it was only just a couple of months. One of these cycles, the winds blew into my life the means to liberate myself. I was low on hope when a new batch of prisoners was brought in. They were French seamen, and as of the last news from Europe I had heard, allies of Spain. The King of Spain was a Bourbon and the son of the French King. So I could consider them my allies as well. Most importantly they were still full of hope and ambition.
The leader of this group was Loic St Croix, Similar to me, he was a lieutenant before his ship's capture. He came into prison with about ten others from his crew. I was not fortunate to come here with any of my crew, and don't know their ultimate fates. These Frenchmen were hardy-looking folk indeed. They had the posture and discipline of soldiers, along with the compliment of keen eyes. I watched them taking notice of patterns in the guards, and what I knew to be planning. It was obvious that they were looking to escape from the outset and I needed to be a part of their plans if I was to ever get away from these watched lands. How to convince them that they need me was something that required planning of my own.
