class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 24]"/>quered 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