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ANDREW BARTON

There was living at the commencement of the sixteenth century a Scotsman, named Andrew Barton, who acquired considerable notoriety by reason of his exploits at sea; and indeed, he was instrumental in bringing to a definite issue the condition of high tension existing between England and Scotland at that time, which culminated in the battle of Flodden Field.

It appears, from certain State Papers, that one John Barton, the father of Andrew, somewhere about the year 1476, in the reign of James III. of Scotland, got into trouble with the Portuguese, who captured his vessel and goods and otherwise ill-treated him; upon representation of which injuries he obtained letters of marque against the Portuguese, in the usual terms.

Apparently, however, John did not succeed in obtaining substantial restitution by this means, for we learn, in a letter from James IV. to Maximilian, Emperor of Germany, dated December 8th, 1508, that the letters of marque had been repeatedly suspended, in the hope of obtaining redress; but had been renewed during the previous year, in favour of the late John Barton's three sons, one of whom—Robert—was the occasion of the writing of this letter; the Portuguese having taken him prisoner, and proposing to hang him as a pirate, which, says King James, he is not, having authority to act against the Portuguese, by virtue of my letters of marque.

All this argues a considerable amount of favour towards the Bartons on the Scottish monarch's part; for it must be admitted that the renewal of letters of marque, after they had run intermittently for thirty years in respect of one incident, was a straining of the elasticity of conventions.

The Bartons had, in fact, been high in favour both with James III. and his successor, and were constantly employed by them in maritime affairs, being frequently entrusted, as we learn from the accounts of the Lord Treasurer of Scotland, with the handling of large sums of money.

They were formidable fellows, these Bartons; hardy and daring, skilled in all the strategy of the sea, and, when occasion arose, perfect gluttons at fighting. Andrew appears to have been the most formidable, and added to his other attributes that of being a born leader of men.

We are told by Bishop John Leslie, in his "History of Scotland," that in the year 1506 King James caused a great ship to be built, in the design and rigging of which Andrew Barton played a prominent part, and was afterwards placed in command of her to harry the Flemish pirates then infesting the narrow seas: a task which he set about with characteristic energy and ferocity, with the result that he captured some and completely scattered and demoralised the remainder. By way of demonstrating his success in graphic and convincing fashion, he presently despatched to his august master sundry pipes, or casks, containing Flemish heads! He little guessed, however, that his own head was destined—according to some authorities—to make, before many years had elapsed, a similar journey, unaccompanied by his body.

Having disposed of the Flemish pirates, Andrew Barton resumed his operations, under letters of marque, against the Portuguese, and captured, during following years, a good many vessels under that flag; nor were his brothers idle. One cannot help wondering whether the Barton family had not by this time exacted more than adequate restitution of their losses of five-and-thirty years previously; and, as we know, it was of the essence of such authorised reprisals that they should cease when this end was attained. Very probably some contemporary persons, more or less interested in their doings, began asking this same question; at any rate, there prevailed in the year 1511 a very strong feeling in England against Andrew Barton; he was constantly alluded to as the "Scottish pirate," and accused of many outrages against vessels other than Portuguese; and, as there existed just then very strained relations with Scotland, these stories met with ready credence. The general dislike of Andrew Barton and his doings was embodied in a representation by Portuguese ambassadors to King Henry VIII., who does not appear to have complained to the Scots King, or taken any steps in the matter.

The public feeling was voiced, however, by Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey—afterwards victor of Flodden, and second Duke of Norfolk—who exclaimed that "The King of England should not be imprisoned in his kingdom, while either he had an estate to set up a ship, or a son to command it."

This somewhat theatrical attitude is indicative of the exaggerated stories in circulation as to Andrew Barton's terrorism of the narrow seas; the immediate sequel, however, was the fitting out of two vessels, commanded respectively by Surrey's sons, Lord Thomas and Lord Edward Howard, with the express object of capturing Barton. It is said by some writers that the Howards provided these ships at their own cost, and, in view of Surrey's enthusiastic outbreak, it appears not improbable that this was the case. However this may be, the two brothers put forth from the Thames one day in June 1511 in quest of Andrew, who was then returning from Flanders, by way of the Downs, in his ship, the Lion, accompanied by a smaller vessel, or pinnace, the Jenny Pirwin.

The Howards had to wait for more than a month, however, and then, being separated by bad weather, Lord Thomas sighted the Lion, which had also parted from her consort.

Barton appears to have endeavoured, in the first instance, to escape; according to Leslie, he made friendly advances to Howard, insisting that the English and Scotch were not at war; this would have been a sound and logical attitude for Barton to assume, and it may be that he acted so; but in the end Howard chased him, and, finding himself outsailed, the Scot faced the foe with his usual boldness, and a desperate encounter ensued.

Howard's force was probably superior to that of his antagonist, but Andrew Barton and his ship's company were not to be intimidated by odds against them, when once they entered upon an engagement, and Lord Thomas soon realised that the task he had undertaken was no child's play.

Reeling alongside each other, at the closest quarters, the two vessels exchanged shots from their cannon as rapidly as they could be loaded and fired, while the crossbowmen and arquebusiers discharged a perfect hail of arrows, "quarrells," and bolts; Howard placed his ship again and again alongside, in the attempt to board, only to be beaten off by the valiant Scots, the decks of both vessels plentifully strewn with the wounded and dying.

At length Howard, as courageous and persistent a fighter as Barton, gained a footing on the Lion's deck, with a few of his men; others speedily followed, and a hand-to-hand fight ensued.

Barton was by this time mortally wounded; his leg was shattered by a cannon-shot, and his body pierced in several places; but he sat up against the bulwarks, blowing his whistle and beating a drum to rally his men, as long as the breath remained in him; and it was not until they saw the fighting flame quenched in the eye of their intrepid and yet unconquered leader, and his chin drop upon his breast, that the sturdy Scots were fain at length to yield to Howard and his men.

Lord Edward Howard, meanwhile, had captured the Jenny Pirwin, not without some stubborn opposition, in spite of the odds in his favour, the smaller vessel having suffered heavily in killed and wounded before capitulating.

Both vessels were immediately added to the English Navy, the nucleus of which was then in process of formation; the prisoners were conveyed to London, and confined in the palace of the Bishop of York, awaiting the king's pleasure.

As might be expected, the Scottish historians, Leslie and Buchanan, give a somewhat different account from that of Edward Hall, in whose chronicle the most nearly contemporary narrative is to be found. Leslie's allegation as to the friendly overtures of Barton finds no corroboration in Hall's Chronicle; and indeed, it is difficult to believe that Andrew Barton did not thoroughly comprehend the situation from the first.

King Henry VIII. appears to have been willing to give the prisoners every chance, for he sent some members of his Council, with the Bishop of Winchester, to parley with them. The bishop, according to Hall, "rehearsed to them, whereas peace was yet between England and Scotland, that they, contrary to that, as thieves and pirates, had robbed the king's subjects within his streams, therefore they had deserved to die by the law, and to be hanged at the low-water mark. Then said the Scots, we knowledge our offence, and ask mercy, and not the law. Then a priest which was also a prisoner, said, My lords, we appeal from the king's justice to his mercy. Then the bishop asked him, if he was authorised by them to say so, and they cried all, Yea, yea; then said he, You shall find the king's mercy above his justice; for where you were dead by law, yet by his mercy he will revive you; wherefore you shall depart out of this realm within twenty days, upon pain of death, if you be found after the twenty days; and pray for the king; and so they passed into their country."

Thus far Edward Hall; Buchanan says: "They who were not killed in the fight were thrown into prison at London; from whence they were brought to the king, and, humbly begging their lives of him, as they were instructed to do by the English, he, in a proud ostentation of his great clemency, dismissed, and sent the poor innocent souls away."

When James remonstrated, demanding redress for the death of Andrew Barton and his comrades, and the capture of their ships, Henry replied that the doing of justice upon a pirate was no occasion for a breach of friendly relations between two princes. "This answer," says Buchanan, "showed the spite of one that was willing to excuse a plain murder, and seemed as if he had sought an occasion of war."

This incident was celebrated in verse, not immediately afterwards, but in the reign of Elizabeth.

The "Ballad of Sir Andrew Barton" gives a most circumstantial account of the fight, introducing many details which are probably fictitious, and confusing the identity of the Howards who took part in it. According to the writer, Lord Charles Howard was the hero of the occasion; but there does not happen to have been any such person to the fore at that time, the conqueror of the Spanish Armada—Charles Howard, Lord Effingham, afterwards created Earl of Nottingham—not having been born until five-and-twenty years later.

Probably the ballad was written after 1588—the Armada year—by way of glorifying the Howards, who were very high in royal and popular favour at that time; such anachronisms were very common in popular ballads of this and later times.

The writer represents that Barton's smaller vessel was sunk; and he it is who tells us about that alleged journey of Andrew's head:

My Lord Howard tooke a sword in his hand,

And smote of Sir Andrew's head;

The Scotts stood by did weepe and mourne,

But never a word durst speake or say.

He caused his body to be taken downe,

And over the hatch-bord cast into the sea,

And about his middle three hundred crownes:

"Whersoever thou lands, itt will bury thee."

With his head they sayled into England againe,

With right good will, and fforce and main,

And the day before new Yeereseven

Into Thames mouth they came againe.

Then King Henerye shiffted his roome; In came the Queene and ladyes bright; Other arrand they had none But to see Sir Andrew Bartton, Knight. But when they see his deadly face, His eyes were hollow in his head; "I wold give a hundred pound," sais King Henerye, "The man were alive as hee is dead."

A gruesome sight, indeed, for the Queen—the courageous but gentle Katharine of Aragon—and her ladies!

There is a disposition in some quarters to regard the whole incident as fictitious, but this does not appear to be at all justifiable. Edward Hall, the Chronicler, was a lad of thirteen or fourteen at the time, and so may be regarded as, practically, a contemporary writer; while Bishop Leslie (1527-96) and George Buchanan (1506-82) must certainly have known many persons who remembered the fight. Moreover, it appears to be certain that the Lion and Jenny Pirwin were at that time added to the infant Navy, while the official correspondence of the King of Scotland tells of the grant and renewal of the letters of marque.

Barton was not entitled to the "handle" which the Elizabethan rhymester prefixes to his name: he was not a knight, though he might very possibly have become one, had he lived.

Whether or not he was, strictly speaking, a pirate is very doubtful; he was probably no worse in this respect than many, both in prior and later times, who have escaped the odium and the consequences of piracy. He was certainly empowered by his sovereign to overhaul and plunder Portuguese ships and appropriate the goods of Portuguese subjects; and if he permitted himself some latitude in the matter of Portuguese cargoes carried in English or other bottoms—well, there are some naval commanders of the twentieth century who would scarcely find themselves in a position to cast the first stone at him; there were some curious doings in the Russo-Japanese War, some of which still await the final decision of the courts.

Andrew Barton, as has already been hinted, was not, strictly speaking, a privateer; but he occupies an exceptional position, by reason of his intimate association with the two Scottish kings, which places him somewhat outside of the sphere of the ordinary letter of marque; while as an intrepid sea-fighter, in command of a private ship, he is second to none.

THE "AMITY" AND THE SPANIARDS

In the year 1592 the privateer Amity, of London, commanded by Thomas Whyte, captured two armed Spanish vessels, the St. Francisco and St. Peter, respectively of 130 and 150 tons. The crew of the Amity numbered forty-three, but we are not told her armament. The St. Francisco carried three iron guns, two copper pieces of twenty quintals each, and one of fourteen quintals—that is, two pretty nearly one ton in weight, and one about two-thirds of a ton; but it is not quite clear what weight of shot they fired. She had also twenty muskets on board, and carried a crew of twenty-eight men and two boys; she was licensed to carry twenty passengers. The force of the St. Peter is not given, but was probably slightly in excess of that of the St. Francisco. They were bound for the West Indies, with cargoes in which were included 112 tons of quicksilver—a pretty valuable freight—28 tons of papal Bulls,[3] and some wine.

The description of the action, by someone on board the Amity, is given in the Lansdowne MSS., and transcribed by Mr. M. Oppenheim, in his "History of the Administration of the Royal Navy," as below, except that the spelling is here modernised, to render the account more readily intelligible to the reader:

"The order and manner of the taking of the two ships laden with quicksilver and the Pope's Bulls, bound for the West Indies, by the Amity of London, Master Thomas Whyte.

"The 26th of July, 1592, being in 36 degrees, or thereabouts [somewhere off the Strait of Gibraltar], we had sight of the said ships, being distant from us about three or four leagues; by 7 of the clock we fetched them up and were within gunshot, whose boldness (having the King's arms displayed) did make us conceive them rather to be ships of war than laden with merchandise. And, as it doth appear by some of their own speeches, they made full account to have taken us, and was question among them whether they should carry us to St. Lucar [just north of Cadiz] or Lisbon. We waved each other amain [i.e. called upon each other to strike or lower the sails], they having placed themselves in warlike order, the one a cable's length before the other; we begun the fight, in the which we continued so fast as we were able to charge and discharge the space of five hours, being never a cable's length distant either of us the one from the other, in which time we received divers shots both in the hull of our ship, masts, and sails, to the number of 32 great shot which we told after the fight, besides five hundred musket-shot and harquebus à croc [a large musket, fired from a stand] at the least. And for that we perceived they were stout, we thought good to board the Biscayan [i.e. the St. Francisco], which was ahead the other, where lying aboard about an hour plying our ordnance and small shot, with the which we stowed all his men [i.e. drove them from the deck]; now they in the fly-boat[4]—the St. Peter—making account that we had entered our men, bare room with us [i.e. ran down upon us], meaning to have laid us aboard, and so to have entrapped us between them both, which we perceiving, made ready ordnance and fitted us so as we quitted ourselves of him, and he boarded his fellow, by which means they both fell from us [a very neat manœuvre]. Then presently we kept our luff [hauled to the wind], hoisted our topsails, and weathered them, and came hard aboard the fly-boat with our ordnance prepared, and gave her our whole broadside, with the which we slew divers of their men, so as we might perceive the blood to run out at the scuppers; after that we cast about, and now charged all our ordnance, and came upon them again, and willed them amain, or else we would sink them, whereupon the one would have yielded, which was shot between wind and water, but the other called him traitor; unto whom we made answer that if he would not yield presently also we would sink him first. And thereupon he, understanding our determination, presently put out a white flag and yielded; howbeit they refused to strike their own sails, for that they were sworn never to strike to any Englishman. We then commanded the captains and masters to come aboard of us, which they did, and after examination and stowing them, we sent aboard them, struck their sails and manned their ships, finding in them both one hundred and twenty and six souls living, and eight dead, besides those which they themselves had cast overboard; so it pleased God to give us the victory, being but 42 men and a boy, of the which there were two killed and three wounded, for which good success we give the only praise to Almighty God."

The number found on board the two vessels—one hundred and thirty-four, including the dead—and the implication that some corpses had been thrown overboard, making up the total to, say, one hundred and forty, points to the conclusion that there must have been a large number of passengers. The St. Francisco was only entitled to have fifty souls on board, all told, and her consort probably not above sixty at the outside; so there is a surplus of thirty or so between the two to be accounted for. No doubt the skippers, in the absence of any strict inquisition, carried more passengers than they were licensed for. The captains of ferry-boats and coasting steamers do so to this day, in spite of the very stringent regulations of the Board of Trade—and they do not very often get found out, except by the supervention of some dire catastrophe, due to overloading and panic.

The futile Spanish bravado, in refusing to lower their sails to any Englishman, after having displayed the white flag in token of surrender, is decidedly amusing; one cannot help wondering whether any one of them really persuaded himself that he had "saved his face" by such a piece of tomfoolery.