Admiral John Benbow: A Fateful Engagement

John Benbow (Shrewsbury, Shropshire, 10th March 1653 – Port Royal, Kingston, Jamaica, 4th November 1702) 

By Sir Godfrey Kneller

When I was just a lass, one of my favourite stories and one that I return to even now on occasion was Treasure Island. As you no doubt already know, the action starts in the unassuming surroundings of a tavern that goes by the name of the Admiral Benbow. As a girl I naturally had no idea where this inn had found its name but as I grew older and my interest in all things Georgian increased, then I learnt the tale of the real Admiral Benbow and since today marks the anniversary of his death, it seemed like a good time to share that story with you.

Benbow served with the Royal Navy from  the age of twenty five. Despite the occasional brush with authority and a some time spent in private service, he eventually returned to the forces and rose through the ranks during a series of voyages and missions. 

By the time Benbow found himself commanding the fleet in the West Indies in 1701, he had attained the title of Admiral and was held in high esteem by his superiors and at court. On the fateful day of 19th August 1702, Benbow's ships encountered French forces off the coast of Santa Marta and gave chase. Although Benbow led his group of seven across five long days of pursuit, four of his fellow captains appeared less keen and seemed to deliberately hang back, showing no inclination to engage the French.

When the battle finally commenced, a barrage of chain shot struck the deck of HMS Breda where Benbow stood, shattering his right leg. Still the Admiral remained above decks, determined to remain in command until his injuries finally compelled him to make for the safety of Jamaica.

Upon reaching land the furious Benbow set in motion the court martial of his fellow captains for their insubordination. Although they would be convicted and two executed, the Admiral did not life to see their fate. Instead, his condition began to deteriorate and despite efforts to treat the terrible injuries to his leg, things appeared to be going downhill fast for the Admiral. 

He lingered on for months and into autumn but, on 4th November 1702, Admiral Benbow succumbed to his wounds. He died in Port Royal and was laid to rest in Kingston, though he lives on in the tales of the Royal Navy and Treasure Island alike!

The Zong Massacre

Today our tale is a tragic one, a dark chapter in the story of Britain's nautical heritage. When I sat down to tell the story of the drownings at Nantes I found myself thinking of the Zong massacre, a terrible crime that cost some 142 enslaved African people their lives. Cast into the mid-Atlantic, they were left to drown and when the case finally came to court it wasn't a trial for murder, but a disagreement over insurance.

The Slave Ship by JMW Turner, 1840

Originally registered to the Dutch, the Zong had been captured by the Royal Navy and by the end of 1781 was sailing out of Liverpool under the ownership of merchant syndicate including men who had made their fortunes in the slave trade. When the deal for ownership of the ship was finalised it was already off the coast of Africa, with 224 slaves imprisoned on board. The Zong was insured for £8000 and captained by Luke Collingwood, a former surgeon with little command experience looking forward to a lucrative retirement. Collingwood was supported by first mate, James Kelsall and a crew of less than 20. Also on board was a passenger, Robert Stubbs, a former governor who had been removed from his post on account of repeated and serious misconduct.

As the ship sailed on Collingwood fell ill and effective command of the vessel fell first to Kelsall and then, apparently to Stubbs, when Kelsall was suspended for unknown reasons. The number of slaves on board swelled to over 400, the conditions on the Zong growing more barbaric with each day. The command structure in chaos, a number of poor decisions in November 1781 meant that the hugely overcrowded ship was left without enough food or water and conditions on board grew ever more hellish. When the coast of Jamaica became visible on the horizon, salvation was finally in sight but the crew made a catastrophic navigation error. Wrongly believing the land mass was a hostile French colony they turned the ship back into the open sea, sailing over 100 miles before the mistake was noticed. By this point slaves and crew alike were dying from disease or starvation, with no hope of respite.

At this point a stark reality became clear to the fevered Collingwood; if the slaves died on land or on board the Zong, he would receive no money for them. However, if they drowned, an insurance claim could be made for each at a value of £30 per person. On 29th November the crew discussed the plan and by the end of the day, over 50 women and children had been chained and thrown into the sea to drown. A few days later more slaves were murdered in the same manner, with 142 cast into the ocean by the time the ship reached Jamaica. Gravely ill, Collingwood would be dead within days or arrival.

The owners of the ship made a claim for lost cargo against their insurance and, when it was refused, took the underwriters to court. The case hinged on the matter of whether the slaves were killed to save the rest from dehydration or whether they were murdered simply for the insurance money. With the ship's log conveniently lost, Kelsall spoke out against other witnesses, claiming that the ship was carrying enough water to sustain those on board and that he alone had argued against the massacre.

The jury found in favour of the Zong's owners and the insurers were ordered to pay up. They appealed against the ruling and another furious court case ensued. this time though, the witness accounts were so contradictory and the proceedings so muddled that a retrial was ordered. Whether it happened we cannot tell, as the Zong disappears from legal papers at this point.

Outraged that the trial should be over money and not murder, abolitionist Granville Sharp attempted to have the crew prosecuted for the massacre. His efforts were rebuffed by the Lord Chief Justice, William Murray, 1st Earl of Mansfield but Sharp's crusade continued and the abolitionist cause gathered speed throughout the century. 

Although, in the end, nobody was held culpable for the terrible events on board the Zong, the fate of the murdered slaves brought the plight that thousands endured into the public consciousness. It would be many years before the abolitionists finally found their efforts rewarded but those who died during those terrible days at sea are memorialised today at Black River, Jamaica, where there stands a permanent commemoration to the horrors of the Zong massacre.

The Capture of Calico Jack

John Rackham (Cuba, 27th December 1682 – Port Royal, Jamaica, 18th November 1720)

Keep your hand on your reticule today because a thoroughly bad lot is sailing into the salon in the shape of John "Calico Jack" Rackham. Although his career was hardly a long one, Calico Jack certainly had an eye for aesthetics as we'll see in a moment, but that didn't help him evade capture by the British Navy on this day in 1720.

Rackham was a pirate of Cuban-English parentage who earned his nickname by his distinctive clothing. Clearly a man of some visual flare, it was Rackham who first flew the Jolly Roger depicting a skull and crossed swords, which went on to become an iconic design. He also numbered two women amongst his crew, Mary Read and Anne Bonny, Rackham's lover. In fact, on the fateful day in question, Read and Bonny were two of the few who fought for their freedom, the majority of their crewmates in their cups and slumbering below deck.

Rackham had already been pardoned and returned to piracy by the time he sailed in the waters around Jamaica in 1720, leaving local sailors and fishermen terrified of his attacks. By September of that year Governor Nicholas Lawes had had quite enough of the pirate and issued a warrant for his arrest on charges of piracy. Charged by Lawes to track down Calico Jack, Captain Jonathan Barnet happened upon his sloop, the William, at Bry Harbour Bay in Jamaica on 20th October 1720. The ship was at anchor, her crew at rest and vulnerable to boarding.

Commanding two sloops of his own including the heavily armed Tyger, Barnet made his discovery at around ten o'clock in the evening and approached silently. By the time the pirates realised that Barnet was alongside, the pirate hunter had already ordered them to surrender and the William had no choice but to take flight. Of course, it was a pointless effort and the crew of the Tyger boarded their quarry easily despite the fierce defence of Read, Bonny and a crewmate. 

The pirates were taken to trial in Spanish Town, Jamaica, in November 1720. Found guilty, they were hanged and Rackham's body was displayed on the gibbet as a warning to others. Pleading their bellies the women were granted a stay of execution until their pregnancies could be confirmed. Read died of a fever in prison whilst Bonny was pardoned and disappeared from history, passing into the lore of the Golden Age of Piracy.