The Pirates Own Book (14 page)

You are American citizens—this country affords means of instruction to
all: your appearance and your remarks have added evidence that you are
more than ordinarily intelligent; that your education has enabled you to
participate in the advantages of information open to all classes. The
Court will believe that when you were young you looked with strong
aversion on the course of life of the wicked. In early life, in boyhood,
when you heard of the conduct of men, who engaged in robbery—nay more,
when you heard of cold blooded murder—how you must have shrunk from the
recital. Yet now, after having participated in the advantages of
education, after having arrived at full maturity, you stand here as
robbers and murderers.

It is a perilous employment of life that you have followed; in this way
of life the most enormous crimes that man can commit, are MURDER AND
PIRACY. With what detestation would you in early life have looked upon
the man who would have raised his hand against his officer, or have
committed piracy! yet now you both stand here murderers and pirates,
tried and found guilty—you Wansley of the murder of your Captain, and
you, Gibbs, of the murder of your Mate. The evidence has convicted you
of rising in mutiny against the master of the vessel, for that alone,
the law is DEATH!—of murder and robbery on the high seas, for that
crime, the law adjudges DEATH—of destroying the vessel and embezzling
the cargo, even for scuttling and burning the vessel alone the law is
DEATH; yet of all these the evidence has convicted you, and it only
remains now for the Court to pass the sentence of the law. It is, that
you, Thomas J. Wansley and Charles Gibbs be taken hence to the place of
confinement, there to remain in close custody, that thence you be taken
to the place of execution, and on the 22d April next, between the hours
of 10 and 4 o'clock, you be both publicly hanged by the neck until you
are DEAD—and that your bodies be given to the College of Physicians and
Surgeons for dissection.

The Court added, that the only thing discretionary with it, was the time
of execution; it might have ordered that you should instantly have been
taken from the stand to the scaffold, but the sentence has been deferred
to as distant a period as prudent—six weeks. But this time has not been
granted for the purpose of giving you any hope for pardon or commutation
of the sentence;—just as sure as you live till the twenty-second of
April, as surely you will suffer death—therefore indulge not a hope
that this sentence will be changed!

The Court then spoke of the terror in all men of death!—how they cling
to life whether in youth, manhood or old age. What an awful thing it is
to die! how in the perils of the sea, when rocks or storms threaten the
loss of the vessel, and the lives of all on board, how the crew will
labor, night and day, in the hope of escaping shipwreck and death!
alluded to the tumult, bustle and confusion of battle—yet even there
the hero clings to life. The Court adverted not only to the certainty of
their coming doom on earth, but to THINK OF HEREAFTER—that they should
seriously think and reflect of their FUTURE STATE! that they would be
assisted in their devotions no doubt, by many pious men.

When the Court closed, Charles Gibbs asked, if during his imprisonment,
his friends would be permitted to see him. The Court answered that that
lay with the Marshal, who then said that no difficulty would exist on
that score. The remarks of the Prisoners were delivered in a strong,
full-toned and unwavering voice, and they both seemed perfectly resigned
to the fate which inevitably awaited them. While Judge Betts was
delivering his address to them, Wansley was deeply affected and shed
tears—but Gibbs gazed with a steady and unwavering eye, and no sign
betrayed the least emotion of his heart. After his condemnation, and
during his confinement, his frame became somewhat enfeebled, his face
paler, and his eyes more sunken; but the air of his bold, enterprising
and desperate mind still remained. In his narrow cell, he seemed more
like an object of pity than vengeance—was affable and communicative,
and when he smiled, exhibited so mild and gentle a countenance, that no
one would take him to be a villain. His conversation was concise and
pertinent, and his style of illustration quite original.

Gibbs was married in Buenos Ayres, where he has a child now living. His
wife is dead. By a singular concurrence of circumstances, the woman with
whom he became acquainted in Liverpool, and who is said at that time to
have borne a decent character, was lodged in the same prison with
himself. During his confinement he wrote her two letters—one of them is
subjoined, to gratify the perhaps innocent curiosity which is naturally
felt to know the peculiarities of a man's mind and feelings under such
circumstances, and not for the purpose of intimating a belief that he
was truly penitent. The reader will be surprised with the apparent
readiness with which he made quotations from Scripture.

"BELLEVUE PRISON, March 20, 1831.

"It is with regret that I take my pen in hand to address you with these
few lines, under the great embarrassment of my feelings placed within
these gloomy walls, my body bound with chains, and under the awful
sentence of death! It is enough to throw the strongest mind into gloomy
prospects! but I find that Jesus Christ is sufficient to give
consolation to the most despairing soul. For he saith, that he that
cometh to me I will in no ways cast out. But it is impossible to
describe unto you the horror of my feelings. My breast is like the
tempestuous ocean, raging in its own shame, harrowing up the bottom of
my soul! But I look forward to that serene calm when I shall sleep with
Kings and Counsellors of the earth. There the wicked cease from
troubling, and there the weary are at rest!—There the prisoners rest
together—they hear not the voice of the oppressor; and I trust that
there my breast will not be ruffled by the storm of sin—for the thing
which I greatly feared has come upon me. I was not in safety, neither
had I rest; yet trouble came. It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth to
him good. When I saw you in Liverpool, and a peaceful calm wafted across
both our breasts, and justice no claim upon us, little did I think to
meet you in the gloomy walls of a strong prison, and the arm of justice
stretched out with the sword of law, awaiting the appointed period to
execute the dreadful sentence. I have had a fair prospect in the world,
at last it budded, and brought forth the gallows. I am shortly to mount
that scaffold, and to bid adieu to this world, and all that was ever
dear to my breast. But I trust when my body is mounted on the gallows
high, the heavens above will smile and pity me. I hope that you will
reflect on your past, and fly to that Jesus who stands with open arms to
receive you. Your character is lost, it is true. When the wicked turneth
from the wickedness that they have committed, they shall save their soul
alive.

"Let us imagine for a moment that we see the souls standing before the
awful tribunal, and we hear its dreadful sentence, depart ye cursed into
everlasting fire. Imagine you hear the awful lamentations of a soul in
hell. It would be enough to melt your heart, if it was as hard as
adamant. You would fall upon your knees and plead for God's mercy, as a
famished person would for food, or as a dying criminal would for a
pardon. We soon, very soon, must go the way whence we shall ne'er
return. Our names will be struck off the records of the living, and
enrolled in the vast catalogues of the dead. But may it ne'er be
numbered with the damned.—I hope it will please God to set you at your
liberty, and that you may see the sins and follies of your life past. I
shall now close my letter with a few words which I hope you will receive
as from a dying man; and I hope that every important truth of this
letter may sink deep in your heart, and be a lesson to you through life.

"Rising griefs distress my soul,
And tears on tears successive roll—
For many an evil voice is near,
To chide my woes and mock my fear—
And silent memory weeps alone,
O'er hours of peace and gladness known.

"I still remain your sincere friend, CHARLES GIBBS."

In another letter which the wretched Gibbs wrote after his condemnation
to one who had been his early friend, he writes as follows:—"Alas! it
is now, and not until now, that I have become sensible of my wicked
life, from my childhood, and the enormity of the crime, for which I must
shortly suffer an ignominious death!—I would to God that I never had
been born, or that I had died in my infancy!—the hour of reflection has
indeed come, but come too late to prevent justice from cutting me
off—my mind recoils with horror at the thoughts of the unnatural deeds
of which I have been guilty!—my repose rather prevents than affords me
relief, as my mind, while I slumber, is constantly disturbed by
frightful dreams of my approaching awful dissolution!"

On Friday, April twenty-second, Gibbs and Wansley paid the penalty of
their crimes. Both prisoners arrived at the gallows about twelve
o'clock, accompanied by the marshal, his aids, and some twenty or thirty
United States' marines. Two clergymen attended them to the fatal spot,
where everything being in readiness, and the ropes adjusted about their
necks, the Throne of Mercy was fervently addressed in their behalf.
Wansley then prayed earnestly himself, and afterwards joined in singing
a hymn. These exercises concluded, Gibbs addressed the spectators nearly
as follows:

MY DEAR FRIENDS,

My crimes have been heinous—and although I am now about to suffer for
the murder of Mr. Roberts, I solemnly declare my innocence of the
transaction. It is true, I stood by and saw the fatal deed done, and
stretched not forth my arm to save him; the technicalities of the law
believe me guilty of the charge—but in the presence of my God—before
whom I shall be in a few minutes—I declare I did not murder him.

I have made a full and frank confession to Mr. Hopson, which probably
most of my hearers present have already read; and should any of the
friends of those whom I have been accessary to, or engaged in the murder
of, be now present, before my Maker I beg their forgiveness—it is the
only boon I ask—and as I hope for pardon through the blood of Christ,
surely this request will not be withheld by man, to a worm like myself,
standing as I do, on the very verge of eternity! Another moment, and I
cease to exist—and could I find in my bosom room to imagine that the
spectators now assembled had forgiven me, the scaffold would have no
terrors, nor could the precept which my much respected friend, the
marshal of the district, is about to execute. Let me then, in this
public manner, return my sincere thanks to him, for his kind and
gentlemanly deportment during my confinement. He was to me like a
father, and his humanity to a dying man I hope will be duly appreciated
by an enlightened community.

My first crime was
piracy
, for which my
life
would pay for forfeit
on conviction; no punishment could be inflicted on me further than that,
and therefore I had nothing to fear but detection, for had my offences
been millions of times more aggravated than they are now,
death
must
have satisfied all.

Gibbs having concluded, Wansley began. He said he might be called a
pirate, a robber, and a murderer, and he was all of these, but he hoped
and trusted God would, through Christ, wash away his aggravated crimes
and offences, and not cast him entirely out. His feelings, he said, were
so overpowered that he hardly knew how to address those about him, but
he frankly admitted the justness of the sentence, and concluded by
declaring that he had no hope of pardon except through the atoning blood
of his Redeemer, and wished that his sad fate might teach others to shun
the broad road to ruin, and travel in that of virtue, which would lead
to honor and happiness in this world, and an immortal crown of glory in
that to come.

He then shook hands with Gibbs, the officers, and clergymen—their caps
were drawn over their faces, a handkerchief dropped by Gibbs as a signal
to the executioner caused the cord to be severed, and in an instant they
were suspended in air. Wansley folded his hands before him, soon died
with very trifling struggles. Gibbs died hard; before he was run up, and
did not again remove them, but after being near two minutes suspended,
he raised his right hand and partially removed his cap, and in the
course of another minute, raised the same hand to his mouth. His dress
was a blue round-about jacket and trousers, with a foul anchor in white
on his right arm. Wansley wore a white frock coat, trimmed with black,
with trousers of the same color.

After the bodies had remained on the gallows the usual time, they were
taken down and given to the surgeons for dissection.

Gibbs was rather below the middle stature, thick set and powerful. The
form of Wansley was a perfect model of manly beauty.

In the Autumn of 1832, there was anchored in the "Man of War Grounds,"
off the Havana, a clipper-built vessel of the fairest proportions; she
had great length and breadth of beam, furnishing stability to bear a
large surface of sail, and great depth to take hold of the water and
prevent drifting; long, low in the waist, with lofty raking masts, which
tapered away till they were almost too fine to be distinguished, the
beautiful arrowy sharpness of her bow, and the fineness of her gradually
receding quarters, showed a model capable of the greatest speed in
sailing. Her low sides were painted black, with one small, narrow
ribband of white. Her raking masts were clean scraped, her ropes were
hauled taught, and in every point she wore the appearance of being under
the control of seamanship and strict discipline. Upon going on board,
one would be struck with surprise at the deception relative to the
tonnage of the schooner, when viewed at a distance. Instead of a small
vessel of about ninety tons, we discover that she is upwards of two
hundred; that her breadth of beam is enormous; and that those spars
which appeared so light and elegant, are of unexpected dimensions. In
the centre of the vessel, between the fore and main masts, there is a
long brass thirty-two pounder, fixed upon a carriage revolving in a
circle, and so arranged that in bad weather it can be lowered down and
housed; while on each side of the deck were mounted guns of smaller
calibre.