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Henry Every, also known as Henry Avery (born 20 August 1659; disappeared June 1696), sometimes erroneously given as Jack Avery or John Avery,[a] was an English pirate who operated in the Atlantic and Indian oceans in the mid-1690s. He probably used several aliases throughout his career, including Benjamin Bridgeman, and was known as Long Ben to his crewmen and associates.[b]

Key Information

Dubbed the Arch Pirate and the King of Pirates by contemporaries, Every was infamous for being one of the very few major pirate captains to escape with his loot without being arrested or killed in battle, and for being the perpetrator of what has been called the most profitable act of piracy in history.[7] Although Every's career as a pirate lasted only two years, his exploits captured the public's imagination, inspired others to take up piracy, and spawned works of literature. He began his pirate career while he was first mate aboard the warship Charles II. As the ship lay anchored in the northern Spanish harbour of Corunna, the crew grew discontented as Spain failed to deliver a letter of marque and Charles II's owners failed to pay their wages, so they mutinied. Charles II was renamed the Fancy and the crew elected Every its captain.

Every's most famous raid was on a 25-ship convoy of Grand Mughal vessels making the annual pilgrimage to Mecca, including the treasure-laden Ghanjah dhow Ganj-i-Sawai and its escort, Fateh Muhammed. On 7 September 1695, joining forces with several pirate vessels, Every commanded the small pirate squadron. They captured up to £600,000 in precious metals and jewels (equivalent to around £107.6 million in 2025).[7] This caused considerable damage to England's fragile relations with the Mughals. A combined bounty of £1,000—an immense sum at the time—was offered by the Privy Council and the East India Company for his capture. This is considered the first worldwide manhunt in recorded history.[8][c]

Although a number of his crew were subsequently arrested, Every himself eluded capture, vanishing from all records in 1696; his whereabouts and activities after this period are unknown. Unconfirmed accounts state he may have changed his name and retired, quietly living out the rest of his life in either Britain or on an unidentified tropical island, while alternative accounts consider Every may have squandered his riches.[11] He is considered[d] to have died sometime between 1699 and 1714; his treasure has never been recovered.

Early life

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Background

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Modern scholarship suggests Henry Every was born on 20 August 1659 in the village of Newton Ferrers, about 9.7 kilometres (6 mi) southeast of Plymouth, Devon, England.[12][13] Parish records suggest that he was the son of John Evarie and his wife, Anne, maiden name unknown. The Every family of Devon was quite established at the time, and it is likely he was a kinsman of the Everys of Wycroft Castle.[14] According to the deposition of William Phillips, a member of Every's crew who gave a "voluntary confession" after his capture, in August 1696 Every was "aged about 40 years," his mother lived "near Plymouth," and his wife was a periwig seller who lived "in Ratcliffe Highway."[15] He wed Dorothy Arther at St James Duke's Place in London on 11 September 1690.[16] There is no evidence that he had any children.

The earliest biographical account of the man, The Life and Adventures of Capt. John Avery (London: J. Baker, 1709), states that he was born in 1653 in Cattedown, Plymouth. Although this location and date are now known to be incorrect, they have been frequently cited in earlier literature. Another suggested year for Every's birth is 1665,[17] though this too is in error. The memoir's Dutch author, who wrote his account a little over a decade after the pirate had vanished, uses the name Adrian van Broeck, but this is probably a pseudonym. The account tells of Van Broeck's short captivity by Every's crew aboard Fancy, and claims that Every's father was a trading captain who had served in the Royal Navy under Admiral Robert Blake. Several later accounts of Every's life, most prominently Daniel Defoe's The King of Pirates (1720), have made reference to the earlier work, but it is of questionable veracity and has been described by the Dictionary of National Biography as "fiction, with scarcely a substratum of fact".[5]

Although a theory existed that Every's birth name was actually Benjamin Bridgeman, especially in light of his nickname "Long Ben", and that "Henry Every" was in fact an alias,[18] modern scholarship has debunked it.[1] It is accepted by historians that "Henry Every" was the pirate's real name, given that he used this name when he entered the Royal Navy. As this was prior to the onset of his piratical career, he would have had no need for an alias. He used the name "Bridgeman" only after committing piracy. Every may have been a cousin of the well-known Every baronets, though this has not been proven conclusively.[14]

Royal Navy service

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1928 painting of the Battle of Beachy Head

Every was probably a sailor from his youth, serving on various Royal Navy ships. Popular accounts state that Every served aboard the English fleet bombarding Algiers in 1671, buccaneered in the Caribbean Sea, and even captained a logwood freighter in the Bay of Campeche, although these stories come from Van Broeck's fictional memoir. The substantiated record picks up in March 1689, shortly after the breakout of the Nine Years' War.[2]

During the conflict, England and its allies—the Grand AllianceBavaria, the Dutch Republic, the Palatinate, Saxony, and Spain—were waging war against Louis XIV of France in an attempt to contain French expansion, and it was against this background that Every, now in his early thirties, was working as a midshipman aboard the sixty-four gun ship of the line HMS Rupert, then under the command of Sir Francis Wheeler.[19] Every's naval records suggest he was something of a family man, who spent "little of his wages on extras such as tobacco and regularly consigned his pay to his family".[20]

In mid-1689, HMS Rupert helped capture a large French convoy off Brest, France. This victory gave Every an opportunity to better his fortunes and by the end of July he was promoted to Master's mate, although he was probably the most junior of HMS Rupert's three Master's mates.[21] In late June 1690, he was invited to join Captain Wheeler on a new ship, the ninety-gun HMS Albemarle. He likely participated in the Battle of Beachy Head against the French two weeks later, an engagement which ended disastrously for the English.[20][22] On 29 August of that year, Every was discharged from the Royal Navy.[23][24]

Every and the slave trade

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After his discharge from the navy in 1691, Every became involved in the Atlantic slave trade. He was contract by the governor of Bermuda, Isaac Richier, to transport African slaves from West Africa to the Americas; during this period, Every operated primarily as a slave trader along the Guinea coast. According to English historian Douglas Botting, "[as] a slaver Avery seems to have been more devious than most other practitioners of that sordid craft."[25]

In 1693, Every's activities along the Guinea coast had led other slave traders to take notice of him. Captain Thomas Phillips, a Welsh slave trader and captain of the Hannibal, a slave ship in the employ of the Royal African Company (RAC), wrote in his journal that "I have no where upon the coast met the negroes so shy as here, which makes me fancy they have had tricks play'd them by such blades as Long Ben, alias Avery, who have seiz'd them and carry'd them away."[25][26] Every was also known to lure slave traders onto his ship by flying friendly colours, then seizing and chaining them in his ship's hold alongside their captives.[27] Phillips, who according to his own writings had come across Every on more than one occasion—and may have even known him personally—also took note of Every's unusual slave trading commission from Richier, an unpopular royal governor who was later removed from his post in 1693 for misbehaviour. However, historians have noted that this part of Every's life is relatively undocumented.[18][28]

Piratical career

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Spanish Expedition Shipping

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In the spring of 1693, several London-based investors led by Sir James Houblon, a wealthy merchant hoping to reinvigorate the stagnating English economy, assembled an ambitious venture known as the Spanish Expedition Shipping. The venture consisted of four warships: the pink Seventh Son, as well as the frigates Dove (of which famed navigator William Dampier was second mate),[29] James, and Charles II (sometimes erroneously given as Duke).[e]

Charles II had been commissioned by England's ally, Charles II of Spain, the ship's namesake, to prey on French vessels in the West Indies. Under a trading and salvage license from the Spanish, the venture's mission was to sail to the Spanish West Indies, where the convoy would conduct trade, supply the Spanish with arms, and recover treasure from wrecked galleons while plundering the French possessions in the area. The investors promised to pay the sailors well: the contract stipulated a guaranteed monthly wage to be paid every six months throughout the deployment, with the first month's pay paid in advance before the start of the mission. Houblon personally went aboard the ships and met the crew, reassuring them of their pay. All wages up to 1 August 1693, not long before the start of the mission, were paid on that date.[32]

An 1837 woodcut from The Pirates Own Book by Charles Ellms depicting Henry Every receiving three chests of treasure on board his ship, the Fancy.

As a result of his previous experience in the navy, Every was promoted to first mate after joining the Spanish Expedition. The convoy's four ships were commanded by Admiral Sir Don Arturo O'Byrne, an Irish nobleman who had previously served in the Spanish Navy Marines.[20] The voyage was soon in trouble, as the flag captain, John Strong, a career mariner who had previously served with Sir William Phips, died while the ship was still in port. Although he was replaced by Captain Charles Gibson,[33] this would not be the last of the venture's misfortunes.

In early August 1693, the four warships were sailing down the River Thames en route to Spain's northern city of Corunna. The journey to Corunna should have taken two weeks, but for some reason, the ships did not arrive in Spain until five months later. The necessary legal documents had apparently failed to arrive from Madrid, so the ships were forced to wait. As months passed and the documents still did not arrive, the sailors found themselves in an unenviable position: with no money to send home to support their families and unable to find alternative sources of employment, they had become virtual prisoners in Corunna.[34]

After a few months in port, the men petitioned their captain for the pay they should have received since their employment began. If this request had been granted, the men would no longer have been tied to the ship and could easily have left, so predictably their petition was denied. After a similar petition to Houblon by the men's wives had failed, many of the sailors became desperate, believing that they had been sold into slavery to the Spanish.[35]

On 1 May, as the fleet was preparing to leave Corunna, the men demanded their six months of pay or threatened to strike. Houblon refused to acquiesce to these demands, but Admiral O'Byrne, seeing the seriousness of the situation, wrote to England asking for the money owed to his men. On 6 May, some of the sailors were involved in an argument with O'Byrne, and it was probably around this time that they conceived of a plan to mutiny and began recruiting others.[36][37]

One of the men recruiting others was Every. As William Phillips, a mariner on Dove, would later testify, Every went "up & down from Ship to Ship & persuaded the men to come on board him, & he would carry them where they should get money enough."[6] Since Every had a great deal of experience and was also born in a lower social rank, he was the natural choice to command the mutiny, as the crew believed he would have their best interests at heart.[38]

Mutiny and ascension to captaincy

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On Monday, 7 May 1694, O'Byrne was scheduled to sleep ashore, which gave the men the opportunity they were looking for.[39] At approximately 9:00 p.m., Every and about twenty-five other men rushed aboard Charles II and surprised the crew on board. Captain Gibson was bedridden at the time, so the mutiny ended bloodlessly.[38][f] One account states that the extra men from James pulled up in a longboat beside the ship and gave the password, saying, "Is the drunken boatswain on board?" before joining in the mutiny. Captain Humphreys of James is said to have called out to Every that the men were deserting, to which Every calmly replied that he knew perfectly well.[40] James then fired on Charles II, alerting the Spanish Night Watch, and Every was forced to make a run to the open sea, quickly vanishing into the night.

Declaration of Henry Every to English ship commanders[41]
To all English Commanders lett this Satisfye that I was Riding here att this Instant in ye Ship fancy man of Warr formerly the Charles of ye Spanish Expedition who departed from Croniae [Corunna] ye 7th of May. 94: Being and am now in A Ship of 46 guns 150 Men & bound to Seek our fortunes I have Never as Yett Wronged any English or Dutch nor never Intend while I am Commander. Wherefore as I Commonly Speake wth all Ships I Desire who ever Comes to ye perusal of this to take this Signall that if you or aney whome you may informe are desirous to know wt wee are att a Distance then make your Antient [i.e., ensign, flag] Vp in a Ball or Bundle and hoyst him att ye Mizon Peek ye Mizon Being furled I shall answere wth ye same & Never Molest you: for my Men are hungry Stout and Resolute: & should they Exceed my Desire I cannott help my selfe.
as Yett
An Englishman's friend,
At Johanna [Anjouan] February 28th, 1694/5
Henry Every
Here is 160 od french Armed men now att Mohilla who waits for Opportunity of getting aney ship, take Care of your Selves.

After sailing far enough for safety, Every gave the non-conspirators a chance to go ashore, even deferentially offering to let Gibson command the ship if he would join their cause. According to Charles Ellms, Every's words to Gibson were, "if you have a mind to make one of us, we will receive you; and if you turn sober, and attend to business, perhaps in time I may make you up of my lieutenants; if not, here's a boat, and you shall be set on shore."[42] The captain declined and was set ashore with several other sailors.[38]

The only man who was prevented from voluntarily leaving was the ship's surgeon, whose services were deemed too important to forgo. All of the men left on board Charles II unanimously elected Every captain of the ship.[43] Some reports say that Every was much ruder in his dealings with Gibson, but agree that he at least offered him the position of the second mate.[40] In either case, Every exhibited an amount of gentility and generosity in his operation of the mutiny that indicates his motives were not a mere adventure.

Every was easily able to convince the men to sail to the Indian Ocean as pirates since their original mission had greatly resembled piracy and Every was renowned for his powers of persuasion. He may have mentioned Thomas Tew's success in capturing an enormous prize in the Red Sea only a year earlier. The crew quickly settled the subject of payment by deciding that each member would get one share of the treasure, and the captain would get two. Every then renamed Charles II the Fancy—a name which reflected both the crew's renewed hope in their journey and the quality of the ship—and set a course for the Cape of Good Hope.[44]

The Pirate Round

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At Maio, the easternmost of the Cape Verde's Sotavento islands, Every committed his first piracy, robbing three English merchantmen from Barbados of provisions and supplies.[45] Nine of the men from these ships were quickly persuaded to join Every's crew,[43] who now numbered about ninety-four men.[46] Every then sailed to the Guinea coast, where he tricked a local chieftain into boarding Fancy under the false pretence of trade, and forcibly took his and his men's wealth, leaving them slaves.[47] Continuing to hug the African coastline, Every then stopped at Bioko in the Bight of Benin, where Fancy was careened and razeed.[46] Cutting away some of the superstructure to improve the ship's speed made Fancy one of the fastest vessels then sailing in the Atlantic Ocean. In October 1694, Fancy captured two Danish privateers near the island of Príncipe, stripping the ships of ivory and gold and welcoming approximately seventeen defecting Danes aboard.[48]

In early 1695, Fancy finally rounded the Cape of Good Hope, stopping in Madagascar where the crew restocked supplies, likely in the area of St. Augustine's Bay.[g] The ship next stopped at the island of Johanna in the Comoros Islands. Here Every's crew rested and took on provisions, later capturing a passing French pirate ship, looting the vessel and recruiting some forty of the crew to join their own company. Every's total strength was now about 150 men.[49]

At Johanna, Every wrote a letter addressed to the English ship commanders in the Indian Ocean, falsely stating that he had not attacked any English ships. His letter describes a signal English skippers could use to identify themselves so he could avoid them and warns them that he might not be able to restrain his crew from plundering their ships if they failed to use the signal. It is unclear whether this document was true, but it may have been a ploy by Every to avoid the attention of the East India Company (EIC), whose large and powerful ships were the only threat Fancy faced in the Indian Ocean.[41] Either way, the letter was unsuccessful in preventing the English from pursuing him.

The Grand Mughal's fleet

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An 18th-century depiction of Henry Every, with the Fancy shown capturing the Grand Mughal Fleet

In 1695, Every set sail for the volcanic island of Perim to wait for an Indian fleet that would be passing soon.[h] The fleet was easily the richest prize in Asia—perhaps in the entire world—and any pirates who managed to capture it would have been the perpetrators of the world's most profitable pirate raid.[50] In August 1695, Fancy reached the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, where Every joined forces with five other pirate captains: Tew on the sloop-of-war Amity, with a crew of about sixty men; Joseph Faro on Portsmouth Adventure, with sixty men; Richard Want on Dolphin, also with sixty men; William Mayes on Pearl, with thirty or forty men; and Thomas Wake on Susanna, with seventy men.[51] All of these captains were carrying privateering commissions that implicated almost the entire Eastern Seaboard of North America. Every was elected admiral of the new six-ship pirate flotilla despite the fact that Tew had arguably more experience, and now found himself in command of over 440 men while they lay in wait for the Indian fleet.[51] A convoy of twenty-five Grand Mughal ships, including the enormous 1,600-ton Ganj-i-sawai with eighty cannons and 1,100 crew, and its even larger escort, the 3,200-ton Fateh Muhammed with ninety-four cannons and 800 crew, were spotted passing the straits en route to Surat. Although the convoy had managed to elude the pirate fleet during the night, the pirates gave chase. While Fateh Muhammed's treasure of some £50,000 to £60,000 was enough to buy Fancy fifty times over,[52] once the treasure was shared out among the pirate fleet, Every's crew received only small shares.[53]

Ganj-i-sawai, captained by one Muhammad Ibrahim, was a fearsome opponent, mounting eighty guns and a musket-armed guard of four hundred, as well as six hundred other passengers. The crew of Pearl, initially fearful of attacking Ganj-i-sawai, now took heart and joined Every's crew on the Indian ship's deck. A ferocious hand-to-hand battle then ensued, lasting two to three hours.[54]

Muhammad Hashim Khafi Khan, a contemporary Indian historian who was in Surat at the time, wrote that, as Every's men boarded the ship, Ganj-i-sawai's captain ran below decks where he armed the slave girls and sent them up to fight the pirates.[55][56] Khafi Khan's account of the battle, appearing in his multivolume work The History of India, as Told by Its Own Historians, places blame squarely on Captain Ibrahim for the failure, writing: "The Christians are not bold in the use of the sword, and there were so many weapons on board the royal vessel that if the captain had made any resistance, they must have been defeated."[55]

According to Khafi Khan, the victorious pirates subjected their captives to an orgy of horror that lasted several days, raping and killing their terrified prisoners deck by deck. The pirates reportedly utilized torture to extract information from their prisoners, who had hidden the treasure in the ship's holds. Some of the Muslim women apparently committed suicide to avoid a violation, while those women who did not kill themselves or die from the pirates' brutality were taken aboard Fancy.[57]

Later accounts would tell of how Every himself had found "something more pleasing than jewels" aboard, usually reported to be Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb's daughter or granddaughter. (According to contemporary EIC sources, Ganj-i-sawai was carrying a "relative" of the Emperor, though there is no evidence to suggest that it was his daughter and her retinue.)[58] At any rate, the survivors were left aboard their emptied ships, which the pirates set free to continue on their voyage back to India. The loot from Ganj-i-sawai, the greatest ship in the Mughal fleet, totalled somewhere between £200,000 and £600,000, including 500,000 gold and silver pieces. All told, it may have been the richest ship ever taken by pirates (see Career wealth below).

The proclamation for the apprehension of Henry Every, with a reward of £500 sterling (approximately £92294.70 sterling as of November 2023, adjusted for inflation[59][60]) that was issued by the Privy Council of Scotland on 18 August 1696

Sharing the spoils

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Every's pirates divided their treasure. Although it is sometimes reported that Every used his phenomenal skills of persuasion to convince the other captains to leave the Mughal loot in his care, quickly slipping away into the night with the entire haul, this comes from Charles Johnson's A General History of the Pyrates, an unreliable account. More reliable sources indicate that there was an exchange of clipped coins between the crews of Pearl and Fancy, with Every's outraged men confiscating Pearl's treasure. (Portsmouth Adventure observed but did not participate in the battle with Ganj-i-sawai, so Faro's crew received none of its treasure.) Every's men then gave Mayes 2,000 pieces of eight (presumably an approximate sum as the treasure captured would have been in Indian and Arabian coins of a different denomination) to buy supplies, and soon parted company.[61]

Aftermath and manhunt

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The plunder of Aurangzeb's treasure ship had serious consequences for the English, coming at a time of crisis for the East India Company (EIC), whose profits were still recovering from the disastrous Anglo-Mughal War. The EIC had seen its total annual imports drop from a peak of £800,000 in 1684 to just £30,000 in 1695,[62] and Every's attack now threatened the very existence of English trade in India. When the damaged Ganj-i-Sawai finally limped its way back to harbor in Surat, news of the pirates' attack on the pilgrims—a sacrilegious act that, like the rape of the Muslim women, was considered an unforgivable violation of the Hajj—spread quickly. The governor of Gujarat, Itimad Khan, immediately arrested the English subjects in Surat and kept them under close watch, partly as a punishment for their countrymen's depredations and partly for their own protection from rioting locals.[63] A livid Aurangzeb quickly closed four of the EIC's factories in India and imprisoned its officers, nearly ordering an armed attack against the city of Bombay with the goal of expelling the English from the Indian subcontinent.[64]

To appease Aurangzeb, the EIC promised to pay all financial reparations, while the Parliament of England declared the pirates hostis humani generis ("the enemy of humanity"). In mid-1696, the English government issued a £500 bounty (approximately £92.300 sterling as of 2023, adjusted for inflation[59][60]) on Every's head and offered a free pardon to any informer who disclosed his whereabouts. The EIC later doubled that reward (to £1000), initiating the first global manhunt in recorded history.[8] English authorities also proclaimed that they would exempt Every from all of the Acts of Grace (pardons) and amnesties it would subsequently issue to other pirates (for instance in 1698). As it was by now known that Every was sheltering somewhere in England's North American colonies, where he would likely find safety among corrupt colonial governors, he was out of the jurisdiction of the EIC. This made him a national problem. Accordingly, the Board of Trade was tasked with coordinating the manhunt for Every and his crew.[65]

Hypothesis of escape to New Providence

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Douglas R. Burgess argues in his 2009 book The Pirates' Pact: The Secret Alliances Between History's Most Notorious Buccaneers and Colonial America that Fancy had reached St. Thomas, where the pirates sold some of their treasure. In March 1696, Fancy anchored at Royal Island off Eleuthera, some 50 miles (80 km) northeast of New Providence in the Bahamas.[66] Four of Every's men took a small boat to Nassau, the island's largest city and capital, with a letter addressed to the island's governor, Nicholas Trott. The letter explained that Fancy had just returned from the coast of Africa, and the ship's crew of 113 self-identified interlopers (unlicensed English traders east of the Cape of Good Hope)[67] now needed some shore time. In return for letting Fancy enter the harbour and for keeping the men's violation of the EIC's trading monopoly a secret, the crew would pay Trott a combined total of £860.[68] Their captain, a man named "Henry Bridgeman," also promised the ship to the governor as a gift once his crew unloaded the cargo.

An early 20th-century painting depicting Captain Every's encounter with Emperor Aurangzeb's granddaughter and her retinue

For Trott, this proved a tempting offer. The Nine Years' War had been raging for eight years, and the island, which the Royal Navy had not visited in several years, was perilously underpopulated.[69] Trott knew that the French had recently captured Exuma, 140 miles (230 km) to the southeast, and were now headed for New Providence. With only sixty or seventy men living in the town, half of whom served guard duty at any one time, there was no practical way to keep Nassau's twenty-eight cannons fully manned.[69] However, if Fancy's crew stayed in Nassau it would more than double the island's male population, while the very presence of the heavily armed ship in the harbour might deter a French attack. On the other hand, turning away "Bridgeman" might spell disaster if his intentions turned violent, as his crew of 113 (plus ninety slaves) would easily defeat the island's inhabitants. Lastly, there was also the bribe to consider, which was three times Trott's annual salary of £300.[68]

Trott called a meeting of Nassau's governing council, likely arguing that interloping was a fairly common crime and not a sufficient reason for turning away the men, whose presence now aided Nassau's security. The council agreed to allow Fancy to enter the harbour, apparently having never been told of the private bribe.[68] Trott sent a letter to Every instructing him that his crew "were welcome to come and to go as they pleased".[70] Soon after, Trott met Every personally on land in what must have been a closed-door meeting. Fancy was then handed over to the governor, who found that extra bribes—fifty tons of ivory tusks, one hundred barrels of gunpowder, several chests of firearms and ammunition, and an assortment of ship anchors—had been left in the hold for him.

The wealth of foreign-minted coins could not have escaped Trott. He must have known that the ship's crew were not merely unlicensed slavers, likely noting the patched-up battle damage on Fancy. When word eventually reached that the Royal Navy and the EIC were hunting for Fancy and that "Captain Bridgeman" was Every himself, Trott denied ever knowing anything about the pirates' history other than what they told him, adamant that the island's population "saw no reason to disbelieve them".[70] This he argued despite the fact that the proclamation for the pirates' capture specifically warned that Every's crew could "probably be known and discovered by the great quantities of Gold and Silver of foreign Coines which they have with them." In the meantime, however, Every's men were free to frequent the town's pubs. Nevertheless, the crew soon found themselves disappointed with the Bahamas; the islands were sparsely populated, meaning that there was virtually no place to spend the money they had pirated. For the next several months the pirates spent most of their time living in relative boredom. By now Trott had stripped Fancy of everything valuable, and it was lost after being violently driven against some rocks, perhaps deliberately on the orders of Trott, who was eager to rid himself of a key piece of evidence.[71]

Disappearance

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Burgess argues that when the proclamation for the apprehension of Every and his crew reached Trott, he was forced to either put a warrant out for Every's arrest or, failing to do so, effectively disclose his association with the pirate. Preferring the former choice for the sake of his reputation, he alerted the authorities as to the pirates' whereabouts but was able to tip off Every and his crew before the authorities arrived. Every's 113-person crew then fashioned their hasty escape, vanishing from the island with only twenty-four men ever captured, five of whom were executed. Every himself was never seen again.[8] His last words to his men were a litany of conflicting stories of where he planned to go, likely intended to throw pursuers off his trail.

It has been suggested that because Every was unable to buy a pardon from Trott or from the governor of Jamaica, his crew split up, some remaining in the West Indies, the majority heading to North America, and the rest, including Every himself, returning to England. Of these, some sailed aboard the sloop Isaac, while Every and about twenty other men sailed in the sloop Seaflower (captained by Faro) to Ireland towards the end of June 1696. They aroused suspicions while unloading their treasure, and two of the men were subsequently caught. Every, however, was able to escape once again.[72]

Fate

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Avery sells his Jewels, an engraving by Howard Pyle which appeared in the September 1887 issue of Harper's Magazine

British author and pirate biographer Charles Johnson suggested that, after attempting to sell his diamonds, Every died in poverty in Devon after being cheated out of his wealth by Bristol merchants. It is, however, unclear how Johnson could have discovered this. If Every was known to be living in poverty, it is most likely that he would have been apprehended and the large bounty on his head collected.[73] So ascribing this fate to Every may have been a type of moral propagandizing on Johnson's part. Others have suggested that after Every changed his name, he settled in Devon and lived out the rest of his life peacefully, dying on 10 June 1714;[74] however, the source for this information is The History and Lives of All the Most Notorious Pirates and their Crews (London: Edw. Midwinter, 1732), considered an unreliable (and slightly expanded) reprint of Johnson's General History. In October 1781 John Knill, the Collector of Customs at St Ives, Cornwall, held a meeting with a supposed descendant of Every[i] who stated that his "father had told him that Captain Every, after wandering about in great poverty and distress, had died in Barnstaple, and was buried as a pauper ..."[75]

As the manhunt for Every continued in the decade following his disappearance, sightings were frequently reported, but none proved reliable. After the publication of a fictional memoir in 1709, which claimed Every was a king ruling a pirate utopia in Madagascar, popular accounts increasingly took on a more legendary, romantic flavour (see In contemporary literature). Although such stories were widely believed to be true by the public, they had no basis in reality. No reliable information about Every's whereabouts or activities emerged after June 1696.

A 2024 book alleges that Every survived to covertly enter service as a Royal spy with the assistance of Daniel Defoe, largely on the basis of a coded letter attributed to "Avery the Pirate."[76][j]

Fate of Every's crew

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North American colonies

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About 75 of Every's crew sailed to North America in hopes of escaping the transcontinental manhunt. His crew members were sighted in the Carolinas, New England, and in Pennsylvania; some even bribed Pennsylvania Governor William Markham for £100 per man. This was enough to buy the governor's allegiance, who was aware of their identity and reportedly even allowed one to marry his daughter.[77] Although other local officials, notably magistrate Captain Robert Snead, tried to have the pirates arrested, the governor's protection ensured that they remained audacious enough to boast of their exploits "publicly over their cups".[78] When Snead's persistence started to irritate the governor, the magistrate was reprehended:

He [Markham] called me rascal and dared me to issue my warrants against these men, saying that he had a good mind to commit me. I told him that were he not Governor I would not endure such language, and that it was hard to be so treated for doing my duty. He then ordered the constables not to serve any more of my warrants; moreover being greatly incensed he wrote a warrant with his own hand to the Sheriff to disarm me.[77]

Maryland, Massachusetts, New York, Virginia, and other colonies published the proclamation authorizing Every's arrest, but rarely went beyond this. Although harbouring pirates became more dangerous for the colonial governors over time, only seven of Every's crew were tried between 1697 and 1705, and all of these were acquitted.[78]

Ancient coins allegedly taken from Ganj-i-Sawai were discovered in 2014 at Sweet Berry Farm in Middletown, Rhode Island. Later on, more coins were unearthed in Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut and North Carolina.[79]

British Isles

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John Dann (Every's coxswain) born in East Hoathly, Sussex, was arrested on 30 July 1696 for suspected piracy at the Bull Hotel, a coaching inn on the High Street of Rochester, Kent. He had sewn £1,045 in gold sequins and ten English guineas into his waistcoat, which was discovered by his chambermaid, who subsequently reported the discovery to the town's mayor, collecting a reward in the process. In order to avoid the possibility of execution, on 3 August Dann agreed to testify against other captured members of Every's crew,[78] joining Middleton, who had given himself up to authorities a few weeks prior. Soon after, twenty-four of Every's men had been rounded up, some having been reported to authorities by jewellers and goldsmiths after trying to sell their treasure. In the next several months, fifteen of the pirates were brought to trial and six were convicted. As piracy was a capital crime, and the death penalty could be handed down only if there were eyewitnesses, the testimony of Dann and Middleton was crucial.

The title page of the report issued in 1696 by the High Court of Admiralty following the trial of Every's crew

The six defendants—Joseph Dawson, 39 years old, from Yarmouth; Edward Forseith, 45, Newcastle upon Tyne; William May, 48, London; William Bishop, 20, Devon; James Lewis, 25, London; and John Sparkes, 19, London—were indicted on charges of committing piracy on Ganj-i-Sawai, with the trial commencing on 19 October 1696 at the Old Bailey.[80] The government assembled the most prominent judges in the country to attend the trial, consisting of presiding judge Sir Charles Hedges, Lieutenant of the High Court of Admiralty; Sir John Holt, Chief Justice of the King's Bench; Sir George Treby, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas; and six other prominent judges.[81] Other than Joseph Dawson, all the pirates pleaded not guilty.

One of the witnesses against the accused mutineers was David Creagh, second officer of Charles II. He testified that after refusing to participate in the mutiny—the only officer to do so—he was ordered to return below deck. On the way to his cabin, Creagh encountered May, Captain Gibson's former steward. May, described by Every as one of the "true cocks of the game, and old sportsmen",[81] was zealously supportive of the mutiny, and Creagh testified of their exchange:

I met with W. May, the Prisoner at the Bar. What do you say here? says he. I made him no Answer, but went down to my Cabin; and he said, God damn you, you deserve to be shot through the Head; and he then held a Pistol to my Head. Then I went to my Cabin, and presently came orders from Every, that those that would go ashore, should prepare to be gone. And when the Captain was got out of Bed, who was then very ill of a Feaver, Every came and said, I am a Man of Fortune, and must seek my Fortune.[36]

Despite considerable pressure on the jury to find the defendants guilty, with Judge Advocate of the Admiralty Dr Sir Thomas Newton reminding the jury that the consequences of an acquittal would be "the total loss of the Indian trade, and thereby the impoverishment of this kingdom",[80] the jury passed a verdict of not guilty.

The shocked court rushed through another indictment, and twelve days later the pirates were tried on a different set of charges, this time on account of conspiring to steal Charles II with piratical intent. Although their position would be legally dubious today, the 17th-century court imposed on the defendants the legal burden of proving themselves innocent of mutiny, having been found aboard "a ship...run away with."[82] As before, the court continually stressed the need for the pirates' conviction. Judge Hedges condemned the "dishonourable" former jury and instructed their successors to act with "a true English spirit" by passing a conviction, repeatedly reminding them to "support...the navigation, trade, wealth, strength, reputation, and glory of this nation."[83] This time, the jury returned a guilty verdict.

The pirates were given their last chance to show why they should be spared execution, with most simply claiming ignorance and pleading for mercy. May argued that, being "a very sickly man", he had "never acted in all the voyage",[84] while Bishop reminded the court that he was "forced away", and, being only eighteen years of age during the 1694 mutiny, desired mercy.[85] Dawson, the only defendant to plead guilty, was granted a reprieve. The remainder of the death sentences were upheld. Sparkes was the only pirate to publicly express some regret, but not for piracy, which was of "lesser concern"—instead, he was repentant for the "horrid barbarities he had committed, though only on the bodies of the heathen", implying that he had participated in the violation of the women aboard the Mughal ships. His "Last Dying Words and Confession" declared that his eyes were "now open to his crimes", and he "justly suffered death for such inhumanity".[86]

On 25 November 1696, the five prisoners were taken to the gallows at Execution Dock. Here they solemnly gave their dying speeches before a gathered crowd, which included Newgate Prison ordinary Paul Lorrain.[87] As they faced the River Thames, from where the Spanish Expedition voyage had begun only three years earlier, the pirates were hanged.

Dann escaped the hangman by turning King's witness. However, he remained in England, having received on 9 August 1698 an, "Order for one Dann, lately Every's mate but pardoned, to attend the Board to-morrow."[88] This he did on 11 August at the East India House, giving details of his voyage and plunder on board Fancy. In 1699, Dann married Eliza Noble and the following year became a partner to John Coggs, a well-established goldsmith banker, creating Coggs & Dann at the sign of the King's Head in the Strand, London.[89] The bankers (particularly Dann) were duped by fraudster Thomas Brerewood, one of their clients, and in 1710 the bank became insolvent. Dann died in 1722.

Career wealth

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Ganj-i-Sawai

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A woodcut from The Pirates Own Book showing the Fancy engaging the Ganj-i-Sawai.

The value of Ganj-i-Sawai's cargo is not known with certainty. Contemporary estimates differed by as much as £300,000, with £325,000 and £600,000 being the traditionally cited numbers. The latter estimate was the value provided by the Mughal authorities, while the EIC estimated the loss at approximately £325,000, nevertheless filing a £600,000 insurance claim.[7]

It has been suggested that the EIC argued for the lowest estimate when paying reparations for Every's raid, with the company's president naturally wanting the most conservative estimate in order to pay as little for the damages as possible.[90] Others contend that the Mughal authorities' figure of £600,000 was a deliberate overestimate aimed at improving their compensation from the English.[91] While some historians have argued that £325,000 was probably closer to the true value,[91] partly because this agreed with the estimate provided by contemporary Scottish merchant Alexander Hamilton, then stationed in Surat,[92] and partly for the above reasons, others have criticized this position as being largely unsubstantiated.[93]

Although Every's capture of Ganj-i-Sawai has been cited as piracy's greatest exploit,[7] it is possible that other pirates have perpetrated even more profitable raids. In April 1721, John Taylor and Olivier Levasseur captured the 700-ton Portuguese galleon Nossa Senhora do Cabo ("Our Lady of the Cape"), bound to Lisbon from the Portuguese colony of Goa. It had been damaged in an Indian Ocean storm and was undergoing repairs at the French island of Réunion when the pirates struck.[94] Reportedly carrying the retiring Luís Carlos Inácio Xavier de Meneses, 1st Marquis of Louriçal, the galleon was laden with silver, gold, diamonds, gems, as well as pearls, silks, spices, works of art, and church regalia belonging to the Patriarch of the East Indies.[95][96] The total value of the treasure on board has been estimated as being anywhere from £100,000 to £875,000 (£500,000 in diamonds and £375,000 in other cargo),[97] all of which was divided among the crews of Cassandra and Victory, captained by Taylor and Levasseur respectively. If the latter number is correct, it would far eclipse Every's haul.

Historian Jan Rogoziński has called Cabo "the richest plunder ever captured by any pirate",[98] estimating its reported treasure of £875,000 to be worth "more than $400 million."[99] In comparison, Rogoziński's analysis in 2000 claimed that the EIC's estimate of £325,000 for Ganj-i-Sawai's goods equals "at least $200 million"[100] while stating that the larger estimate of £600,000 taken would be equivalent to $400 million in 2000, approximately rivalling the raid committed by Taylor and Levasseur. In any case, if one accepts the EIC's estimate of £325,000, Rogoziński writes that even then "only two or three times in history did criminals take more valuable loot".[99]

Other ships

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Fateh Muhammed's cargo was valued at £50,000–60,000 according to the estimate provided by Dann at his trial;[101] Rogoziński's calculations in 2000 valued this at $30 million in modern currency.[102] Every is known to have captured at least eleven vessels by September 1695, including Ganj-i-Sawai.[27] Aside from Emperor Aurangzeb's fleet, one of the more fruitful prizes was Rampura, a Cambay trading ship that produced the "surprising haul of 1,700,000 rupees."[103]

Legacy

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Jack Avery, "Capturing Ship of the Great Mogul", depicted on a cigarette card, c.1888

Influence among pirates

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Every's exploits immediately captivated the public's imagination, and some considered him a sort of gallant maritime Robin Hood who exemplified the working class idea that rebellion and piracy were acceptable ways to fight back against unfair captains and societies.[27] By joining the pantheon of other "noble pirates", including Francis Drake and Henry Morgan, Every doubtlessly inspired many others to take up piracy.[104][105] In particular, Every accomplished his feats while many infamous pirates of the post-Spanish-Succession periodBlackbeard, Bartholomew Roberts, John Rackham, Samuel Bellamy, Edward Low, Stede Bonnet, and others—were still children, and his exploits had become legendary by the time they were young men.

English pirate Walter Kennedy, who was born the same year Ganj-i-Sawai was plundered, had learned of Every's story at a young age and committed it to memory. When he retired from piracy, he returned to London to spend his riches, even opening a brothel in Deptford.[106] However, in 1721, he was arrested and sentenced to death. While he awaited his execution, Kennedy's favourite pastime was recounting tales of Every's adventures.[107]

Another Irishman, Edward England, one-time quartermaster to Charles Vane, spent most of his career in the Indian Ocean raiding Mughal ships in much the same way Every had done two decades earlier. After parting ways with Vane, Edward England raided slave ships off the coast of West Africa. In 1720, he captured a 300-ton Dutch East Indiaman of 34 guns off the Malabar Coast and renamed his new flagship to Fancy. However, he was subsequently marooned on Mauritius by his mutinous crew after refusing to grant them permission to torture their captives. After fashioning a makeshift raft, he drifted to the very island believed to be ruled of the King of Pirates himself. No pirate utopia awaited him, however, and he died an alcoholic beggar. Ironically, this was the fictional but moralized fate Charles Johnson ascribed to Every in his General History. It has been suggested that, like Every before him, England had a "brief, yet spectacular career",[108] and he may have come "closest to living out the Every legend."[109]

In contemporary literature

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Some fictional and semi-biographical accounts of Every were published in the decades following his disappearance. In 1709, the first such account appeared as a 16-page pamphlet titled The Life and Adventures of Capt. John Avery; the Famous English Pirate, Now in Possession of Madagascar (London: J. Baker, 1709). It was written by an anonymous author who, using the pseudonym "Adrian van Broeck," claimed to be a Dutchman who endured captivity by Every's crew. In the account, Every is depicted as both a treacherous pirate and a romantic lover; after he raids the Mughal's ship, he runs off with—and later marries—the Emperor's daughter.[110] The couple then flee the Mughal's army to Saint Mary's Island, where Every sets up a pirate utopia similar to the fictional pirate state of Libertalia.[111] Every even has several children with the princess and establishes a new monarchy. The King of Madagascar soon commands an army of 15,000 pirates and a fleet of 40 warships, and is said to be living in fantastic luxury in an impregnable fortress beyond the reach of his English and Mughal adversaries. Furthermore, Every mints his own currency: gold coins engraved in his royal likeness.

Although wild rumours of Every's fate had been circulating for years, Adrian van Broeck's fictionalized biography provided the popular legend of Every that was to be borrowed by subsequent publications.[112] Over time, much of the English public came to believe the memoir's sensationalist claims. European governments were soon receiving people who claimed to be Every's ambassadors from Saint Mary's, and as the legend grew even heads of state started to believe the astonishing stories. At one point, "English and Scottish officials at the highest level gave serious attention to the proposals of these 'pirate diplomats'," while Peter the Great "tried to hire the Saint Mary's pirates to help build a Russian colony on Madagascar."[113] The idea of a pirate haven on Saint Mary's had become a household idea.

Owing to his notoriety, Every was, along with Blackbeard, one of the few pirates whose life was dramatized on stage.[2] In 1712, playwright Charles Johnson published his highly romanticized tragicomedy The Successful Pyrate. It proved to be at once both controversial and successful and was performed to regaled audiences at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, appearing in print in London the following year. The play was not without its detractors, however. Dramatist and critic John Dennis wrote a letter to the Master of the Revels criticizing him for licensing the play, which he blasted as "a prostitution of the stage, an encouragement to villainy, and a disgrace to the theatre".[114] Nevertheless, the play ran into several editions.

In 1720 Every appeared as the primary character of Daniel Defoe's The King of Pirates and as a minor character in his novel Captain Singleton. Both tales acknowledged the widely believed stories of Every's pirate republic. It was Charles Johnson's influential General History (1724) that established the competing account of Every.[115] Arriving over a decade after Adrian van Broeck's memoir, Johnson's "historical" account revealed that Every was cheated of his wealth after attempting to sell his ill-gotten goods, in the end "not being worth as much as would buy him a coffin". Yet another account appeared in The Famous Adventures of Captain John Avery of Plymouth, a Notorious Pirate (London: T. Johnston, 1809),[116] although this is likely a retelling of earlier publications.

In addition to the play and books written about Henry Every, a successful ballad was also printed in England during his career. Titled "A Copy of Verses, Composed by Captain Henry Every, Lately Gone to Sea to seek his Fortune," it was first published as a broadside sometime between May and July 1694 by the London printer Theophilus Lewis, and was reportedly written by Every himself.[117] Consisting of 13 stanzas set to the tune of the 1686 ballad "The Success of Two English Travellers; Newly Arrived in London," it was subsequently collected by Samuel Pepys and added to the Pepys Library. At least 9 different reprints of the ballad, of varying similarity to the original published by Lewis, were printed between 1694 and 1907.[117] More recently, the ballad has been featured in Roy Palmer's Oxford Book of Sea Songs (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986).

"A Copy of Verses" contains a few statements, such as Every's declaration to have been "part-owner" of land near Plymouth, that were later corroborated by William Philips, the captured crew member with whom Every had once shared information. Despite this, it is unlikely Every wrote the verses. A more likely scenario is that one of the approx. 15 or 20 loyal sailors who refused to join the mutiny had shared their knowledge of Every upon returning to England, where it was quickly turned into a ballad. A slightly modified copy was delivered to the Privy Council of England by Sir James Houblon on 10 August 1694, where it was used as evidence during the inquiry on the mutiny. By announcing Every's supposed intentions of turning pirate even before the mutiny was carried out, the ballad may have served to strengthen the council's convictions that the mutinous crew harboured piratical intentions from the outset. It is thus possible that the ballad was written and distributed as a way to convict Every.[118] In any case, the strength of the ballad likely played a role in the government's outlawing of Every nearly two years before he had become known as the most infamous pirate of his time.[119]

During Every's career, the government used the media to portray him as a notorious criminal in an effort to sway public opinion on piracy, but the result has been described as a "near-total failure".[120] Much of the public continued to remain sympathetic to the pirate's cause.

Every's flag

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There are no reliable contemporary accounts of Every's pirate flag, and the depictions created afterwards are both contradictory and of dubious origin.

The 1724 book A General History of the Pyrates credited Every with flying a black flag emblazoned with two crossed bones forming an X.

According to the ballad "A Copy of Verses," Every's "shield" was red with four gold chevrons and bordered in green.[122] This may have been intended to describe his flag. Although red was a popular colour for pirate flags of the time, the meaning of the four chevrons is not certain; it may have been an attempt (justified or not) to link Every with the West-Country gentry clan of Every whose coats-of-arms showed similar chevrons.[123]

Another flag later ascribed to Every depicts a white skull in profile wearing a kerchief and an earring, above a saltire of two crossed bones, on a black or red field. This claim appears to have been invented for Hans Leip's 1959 book Bordbuch des Satans.[124]

There is no reliable evidence that Every actually flew any of the flags now associated with him.

[edit]
  • A pirate captain named "Avery" is repeatedly mentioned in the 1966 Doctor Who serial The Smugglers; the plot centres on the search for Avery's treasure.[125] The 2011 Doctor Who episode "The Curse of the Black Spot," features a pirate captain named Henry Avery, played by Hugh Bonneville.[126] The fictional Avery is depicted as having started his career in the Royal Navy before turning pirate, being dedicated to his wife and children, and having captured a great treasure from an Indian Mughal. It also provides a fictional aetiology for his disappearance.[127] In a "prequel" released by the BBC prior to the episode, the fictional Avery names his vessel as "the good ship Fancy."[128] Four episodes later, in "A Good Man Goes to War," the Doctor recruits Avery and son in their new capacity as space pirates to assist him at the Battle of Demon's Run.
  • George Macdonald Fraser's 1983 novel The Pyrates traces the adventures of Captain Benjamin Avery, very loosely based on Henry Avery. In 1986 the BBC released a movie adaptation of the novel[129] with Marcus Gilbert in the role of Long Ben Avery.
  • Henry Every is mentioned repeatedly in the 2014–2017 TV series Black Sails, a prequel to Treasure Island. He is credited with inventing the Black Spot and discovering the Treasure Island.
  • Henry Avery is the focus of the 2016 video game Uncharted 4: A Thief's End, in which protagonist Nathan Drake and his brother Samuel hunt for his treasure. In the game, it is revealed that after founding the pirate utopia Libertalia, Avery and Thomas Tew killed each other over its treasure, with their corpses resting aboard Avery's ship on the island off the coast of Madagascar where Libertalia was built.[130]

See also

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Notes

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References

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Bibliography

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Further reading

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Revisions and contributorsEdit on WikipediaRead on Wikipedia
from Grokipedia
Henry Every (20 August 1659; disappeared June 1696), also known as Henry Avery, was an English pirate active in the late seventeenth century, commanding the ship Fancy after leading a mutiny in 1694.[1][2] He achieved notoriety for orchestrating the capture of the Mughal treasure ships Fateh Muhammad and Ganj-i-Sawai on 7 September 1695 in the Indian Ocean, yielding a plunder of gold, silver, gems, and other valuables estimated at £325,000 to £600,000—equivalent to tens of millions in modern terms—and marking one of the most profitable raids in maritime history.[3][1] Every's crew committed severe atrocities during the assaults, including torture, executions, and rapes, though he reportedly attempted to restrain some excesses.[3] Unlike most prominent pirates, Every escaped capture despite bounties from the British government and East India Company totaling £1,000, disbanding his crew and vanishing with his share of the fortune, his ultimate fate remaining unknown amid conflicting legends of retirement or penury.[1][4] Born near Plymouth, Devon, Every began his seafaring career as a mate on merchant vessels and briefly served in the Royal Navy around 1690 before turning to privateering.[1] On 7 May 1694, as first mate aboard the privateer Charles II which was part of a Spanish expedition bound for the Spanish West Indies, he orchestrated a bloodless mutiny with about twenty-five other men, electing himself captain, arming the vessel with 46 guns, renaming it Fancy, and redirecting it toward piracy in the Atlantic and later the "Pirate Round" route to the Indian Ocean.[1] En route and in the Red Sea, his growing fleet of up to six ships seized multiple merchant vessels from English, French, and Danish traders, amassing initial spoils before targeting richer prizes from the Mughal Empire.[4] The climactic engagement involved ambushing the Ganj-i-Sawai, a 1,500-ton armed pilgrim ship returning from Mecca under Mughal protection, after first overpowering its escort Fateh Muhammad; prolonged cannonades and boarding actions overcame the larger vessel's defenses, enabling the looting of its vast hajj-return cargo.[3] The raid provoked outrage from Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, who imprisoned East India Company factors in Surat and demanded justice, prompting the East India Company to fully compensate the Mughal losses and file an insurance claim for £350,000, though Mughal authorities demanded this amount be doubled, fueling a rare multinational pursuit involving the Royal Navy.[3] While some crew members were later tried—resulting in executions in England and acquittals in the colonies—Every eluded authorities, possibly fleeing to the Caribbean, Ireland under an alias, or North America, where Arabian coins linked to his hoard have surfaced.[4] His success and evasion cemented his status as the "King of Pirates" in contemporary broadsides and ballads, influencing later literary depictions despite scant reliable post-1696 records.[1]

Early Life

Origins and Family Background

Henry Every, also known as Henry Avery, was likely born in or near Newton Ferrers, a village southeast of Plymouth in Devon, England, with parish records indicating a baptism on August 23, 1659, for an individual of that name.[5][1] Alternative estimates place his birth as early as 1653, based on later biographical accounts, though primary evidence favors the later date due to the baptismal documentation.[5] He originated from a modest West Country family bearing the surname Every, which was common in Devon and associated with rural or maritime trades rather than prominence.[1] Historical records provide scant details on his parents or siblings, with one tentative identification suggesting John and Anne Evarie (or variant spelling) as possible progenitors, drawn from local genealogical speculation but unverified by contemporary documents.[5] Every appears to have entered seafaring early, potentially emulating a father's occupation in maritime or merchant activities, as was typical for youths from coastal Devon households of limited means.[3][1] The obscurity of his family background underscores the challenges in tracing pre-piratical lives of 17th-century English mariners, where surviving evidence is confined to naval muster rolls and parish entries emerging only from 1689 onward.[5] No definitive accounts of inheritance, education, or siblings exist, reflecting both the era's record-keeping limitations and Every's later evasion of scrutiny.[6]

Royal Navy Service

Henry Every's service in the Royal Navy is sparsely documented, with primary records limited and much of the available information derived from later accounts of his life. He entered naval service around 1689–1690, during the early phase of the Nine Years' War (1688–1697), a conflict pitting England against France and involving naval operations in the English Channel, Mediterranean, and Atlantic.[1][7] As a young mariner, Every likely gained experience in fleet maneuvers and combat against French privateers and warships, though no specific battles are directly attributed to him in surviving logs or dispatches.[8] Every served as a midshipman, a junior officer role involving navigation, gunnery oversight, and watch duties, aboard the third-rate ship of the line HMS Rupert, a 64-gun vessel under Captain Francis Wheeler.[9][1] HMS Rupert participated in routine patrols and convoy protections typical of Royal Navy operations during this period, but Every's precise contributions remain unrecorded. He may have also briefly served on HMS Kent, another warship in the fleet, further honing his seamanship skills amid the demands of wartime service.[1] His Royal Navy tenure lasted approximately one year, ending around 1690, after which Every pursued private merchant voyages and privateering expeditions.[10] This brief stint provided foundational maritime expertise but offered limited advancement opportunities, prompting his shift to higher-risk, potentially more lucrative endeavors outside formal naval structure. Contemporary sources emphasize his competence as a sailor, crediting his Navy experience with equipping him for later command roles, though naval authorities later disavowed knowledge of his full service record amid piracy investigations.[7][8]

Pre-Piracy Maritime Ventures

Little is known with certainty about Henry Every's maritime activities before his involvement in privateering around 1694. Historical accounts indicate he went to sea at a young age, likely in the 1660s or 1670s, serving aboard various merchant vessels operating out of ports like Plymouth in Devon. By the early 1690s, Every had reportedly engaged in the transatlantic slave trade, transporting enslaved Africans from the Guinea coast to the Americas—a common and profitable venture for British mariners during the Nine Years' War era. These activities provided him with navigational expertise and familiarity with Atlantic and African waters, though primary documentation remains scarce and reliant on later narratives like those in Captain Charles Johnson's A General History of the Pyrates.[11] Such service on merchantmen and slavers honed the skills that later defined his piratical success, amid the era's blurred lines between legal commerce and predation.[12]

Piratical Career

Recruitment for the Spanish Expedition

The Spanish Expedition of 1693 was a privateering venture organized by English merchant Sir James Houblon during the War of the Grand Alliance (1688–1697), aimed at intercepting French shipping in the Caribbean after resupplying in Spanish ports.[13] The squadron comprised four vessels, including the 300-ton frigate Charles II, which was fitted out with 46 cannons for the operation.[13][14] Henry Every, an experienced mariner, was engaged as first mate aboard Charles II under Captain Charles Gibson in spring 1693, likely through Houblon's networks in London shipping circles.[15] The crew, numbering around 120 to 130 men, consisted primarily of hardened veterans from prior privateering campaigns, recruited via standard maritime channels offering profit shares from prizes rather than fixed wages.[14] These recruits were enticed by the expedition's potential for lucrative captures, though delays in obtaining formal letters of marque from English or allied authorities fueled early discontent.[13] Assembly occurred in London docks, where sailors—many idle from peacetime merchant service—signed on amid wartime demand for armed vessels.[14] The Charles II departed England in August 1693, sailing to La Coruña, Spain, to join Spanish-allied ships for the transatlantic crossing, but recruitment ceased upon departure as the crew was complete.[8] No records indicate coerced impressment; participation was voluntary, driven by economic incentives in an era when privateering blurred lines with outright piracy.[13]

Mutiny and Assumption of Captaincy

In 1694, the English privateer ship Charles II, a 32-gun vessel commanded by Captain John Gibson, sailed from England as part of a squadron commissioned to prey on French and Spanish shipping amid the Nine Years' War. The expedition encountered severe weather and logistical delays, causing the fleet to disperse, with Charles II arriving alone at A Coruña, Spain, in late April. There, the crew of approximately 113 men, frustrated by months of unpaid wages, inadequate provisions, and the failure to engage enemy prizes, grew increasingly mutinous.[16][5] On 7 May 1694, Henry Every, serving as first mate and a seasoned mariner with prior experience in the Atlantic trade, orchestrated a bloodless mutiny by rallying the disaffected sailors against Gibson's leadership. The conspirators, numbering a majority of the crew, seized control of the ship during the early morning hours, confining Gibson and a handful of loyal officers below decks before setting them ashore with a small boat and provisions. No fatalities occurred, though some accounts describe minor resistance quickly subdued. Every's persuasive rhetoric, emphasizing the futility of returning to England penniless versus seeking riches through independent piracy, secured his election as captain by acclamation among the mutineers.[3][5][8] Under Every's command, the ship was promptly renamed Fancy to symbolize its new piratical purpose, with minor refits to enhance speed and armament, including the addition of up to 46 guns. The crew formalized their commitment to piracy by adopting articles of agreement, promising equal shares of plunder and democratic decision-making, before departing A Coruña southward into the Atlantic. This act marked Every's transition from privateer to outright pirate captain, setting the course for a voyage targeting high-value shipping in the Indian Ocean.[16][17]

Voyage to the Indian Ocean

Following the mutiny on 7 May 1694, during which Every and his followers seized control of the Charles II—renaming it the Fancy—off the coast of La Coruña, Spain, the ship set a southward course toward the Cape Verde Islands.[5] En route, the pirates augmented their numbers and resources by capturing three English merchant vessels near the islands, swelling the crew to around 94 men.[5][18] The Fancy pressed on along Africa's western coast, reaching the Portuguese-held island of Príncipe by October 1694, where Every's crew overpowered and captured two Danish privateers.[10][5] From there, the vessel rounded the Cape of Good Hope and entered the Indian Ocean, navigating toward the Comoros archipelago.[18] On 18 February 1695, the pirates anchored at Johanna (modern Anjouan), a common resupply point for vessels in the region.[5] Nearly a month later, on 15 March 1695, the Fancy returned near Johanna but evaded an attempt by multiple East India Company ships to apprehend it, demonstrating Every's tactical acumen in avoiding organized naval opposition.[19] The crew then proceeded to Madagascar for further provisioning and repairs, a favored pirate haven due to its relative isolation and lack of effective colonial control.[5][18] By mid-1695, the Fancy had positioned itself in the Arabian Sea and Red Sea approaches, primed to target high-value Mughal pilgrim convoys returning from Mecca.[5] This grueling transatlantic and circumnavigational route, spanning over 10,000 miles, underscored the pirates' endurance and the Fancy's seaworthiness as a 30- to 46-gun frigate adapted for long-haul predation.[5]

Capture of the Mughal Treasure Fleet

In August 1695, Henry Every, commanding the pirate ship Fancy in a squadron that included vessels like the Amity under Thomas Tew, positioned themselves in the Arabian Sea near the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb to intercept the Mughal treasure fleet returning from the Hajj pilgrimage to Mecca.[7] The Mughal convoy, protected by the escort ship Fateh Muhammed (or Fateh Mohammad), preceded the flagship Ganj-i-Sawai, a massive 1,500-ton vessel armed with over 50 cannons and carrying hundreds of passengers, including pilgrims, along with vast treasures destined for Emperor Aurangzeb.[20] The pirates first targeted Fateh Muhammed on or around September 5, 1695, after it had repelled an earlier assault by Amity, during which Captain Tew was killed.[7] Every's Fancy, equipped with 46 guns, engaged the Mughal escort in a fierce battle, ultimately capturing it after subduing its defenses; the pirates looted valuables and executed or enslaved survivors, with reports of severe mistreatment including torture to extract hidden treasures.[21] Pursuing the fleeing Ganj-i-Sawai, Every closed the distance over several days, catching up near the Indian coast around September 7, 1695.[2] The ensuing two-hour naval engagement saw Fancy inflict critical damage on the larger Mughal ship, reportedly shattering its main mast and disabling its guns through concentrated broadsides.[22] With the Ganj-i-Sawai crippled and its captain killed, pirates boarded amid hand-to-hand fighting, overpowering the remaining defenders despite fierce resistance from the crew and passengers.[7] Following the boarding, the pirates secured the vessel and began plundering its holds, which contained an estimated £200,000 to £600,000 in gold, silver, jewels, and other valuables, including 500,000 pieces of precious metal and uncut diamonds.[2] Accounts describe widespread atrocities against captives, including the rape and murder of female passengers, as well as torture of Muslim pilgrims to reveal concealed riches, actions that provoked outrage from Mughal authorities and prompted diplomatic repercussions against the English East India Company.[21][23] The capture marked one of the most lucrative single raids in pirate history, yielding spoils equivalent to tens of millions in modern value.[1]

Exploitation of Captured Ships

Seizure and Plundering of Ganj-i-Sawai

On 7 September 1695, near the entrance to the Red Sea, Henry Every's flagship Fancy, a 32-gun frigate with approximately 130 crew, intercepted the Ganj-i-Sawai, a massive 1,600-ton Mughal vessel armed with around 50 guns and carrying over 400 combatants among its 1,100 passengers and crew returning from the Hajj pilgrimage.[24] The Ganj-i-Sawai, owned by Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb and commanded by captain Muhammad Ibrahim, attempted to evade the pirate but was pursued after Fancy had already captured the smaller escort ship Fateh Muhammed.[19] The ensuing battle lasted two to three hours, marked by an exchange of broadsides where a gun explosion aboard the Ganj-i-Sawai killed or injured dozens of its defenders, crippling its firepower.[24] Fancy's superior speed and gunnery allowed Every's men to rake the Mughal ship repeatedly before boarding; pirates overwhelmed the remaining resistance in fierce hand-to-hand combat, suffering few casualties while inflicting heavy losses on the defenders, estimated at scores killed.[7] Contemporary accounts from East India Company factors in India reported the Ganj-i-Sawai's crew and passengers fought valiantly but were subdued after the vessel's guns failed due to poor maintenance.[19] Following the seizure, Every's crew plundered the ship for several days, extracting treasure valued between £325,000 and £600,000, including roughly 500,000 gold and silver coins, uncut diamonds, rubies, and other jewels intended as offerings and gifts for Aurangzeb.[24] Pirates reportedly tortured captives to reveal hidden valuables, and survivor testimonies from Mughal sources describe rapes of female passengers, though exact numbers and details remain unverified beyond Indian court records and lack corroboration from pirate-side accounts.[25] The haul's immense value, equivalent to millions today, represented the richest single pirate capture in history, prompting Aurangzeb's fury and reprisals against British interests.[26]

Handling of Fateh Muhammed and Other Vessels

Following the initial skirmishes in the Arabian Sea on or around 7 September 1695, Henry Every's crew on the Fancy targeted the Fateh Muhammed, a 200- to 300-ton Mughal escort vessel armed with six guns and accompanying the larger Ganj-i-Sawai. The engagement lasted one to two hours, during which the pirates closed to pistol range, boarded the ship amid musket and pistol fire, and encountered minimal organized resistance from its crew.[19] They plundered cargo valued at £50,000 to £60,000 in gold and silver, a haul that, after division among approximately 180 participants in the pirate squadron, provided each with roughly £1,000.[19] Unlike the prolonged and violent exploitation of the Ganj-i-Sawai, the Fateh Muhammed—owned by the merchant Abdul Ghaffar—was stripped of valuables without reports of extensive torture or mass killings, though the boarding action involved lethal small-arms fire.[25] The ship was then released with a reduced crew and sailed independently to Surat, arriving there on 11 September 1695.[19] The pirate squadron under Every's loose coordination, which included vessels like the Dolphin, Portsmouth Adventure, Amity, and Pearl, pursued elements of the 25-ship Mughal pilgrimage convoy but secured no other significant prizes beyond the Fateh Muhammed and Ganj-i-Sawai.[19] The Amity, commanded by Thomas Tew, suffered heavy damage and the loss of its captain while attempting an earlier assault on the Fateh Muhammed, forcing it to withdraw before Every's successful capture.[20] Most convoy ships evaded the interception near the Bab al-Mandab Strait, with historical accounts indicating that Every's prior depredations in the Indian Ocean—totaling up to a dozen minor vessels over the preceding months—involved similar plunder-and-release tactics for seaworthy prizes, though specifics on those craft's fates are scant and unverified beyond general pirate practices of the era.[27]

Division and Valuation of Spoils

Following the capture of the Ganj-i-Sawai and the Fateh Muhammed in September 1695, Henry Every's crew transported the plunder aboard the Fancy and sailed westward across the Atlantic, reaching the Bahamas by February 1696.[2] The spoils, consisting primarily of gold and silver bullion, coins, diamonds, rubies, and other jewels, were valued by contemporary English accounts at between £325,000 and £600,000 from the Ganj-i-Sawai alone, with an additional £50,000 from the Fateh Muhammed, though these figures derive from East India Company estimates and may reflect exaggerated claims to underscore the piracy's impact on trade.[3] Mughal records reported losses equivalent to 2 to 6 million rupees, aligning roughly with the lower end of English valuations when converted at period exchange rates.[28] The division process took place in New Providence, Bahamas, in early 1696, where the pirates moored and appraised the treasure, melting down much of the bullion for easier distribution and sorting jewels by draw or auction to ensure fairness.[2] Under pirate custom, shares were allocated with Every receiving two portions as captain, officers graded between one and a half to two shares, and common crew members one share each among approximately 150 participants.[29] Resulting per-man payouts varied across accounts but typically ranged from £1,000 to £2,000 in value, equivalent to decades of a seaman's wages, enabling many to purchase land, influence, or anonymity in colonial ports.[28] [30] Some crew faced challenges liquidating gemstones, leading to discounted sales or retention of raw valuables, while the sheer volume—reportedly including 500,000 gold and silver pieces—necessitated provisional storage before full dispersal.[31] These distributions, drawn from semi-legendary pirate articles and colonial depositions rather than exhaustive ledgers, highlight the haul's transformative scale but underscore discrepancies in precise quantification due to the era's opaque record-keeping and interested parties' incentives.[32]

Pursuit and Evasion

Initiation of the International Manhunt

The capture of the Ganj-i-Sawai on September 7, 1695, provoked immediate and severe backlash from the Mughal Empire under Emperor Aurangzeb, who viewed the attack on the imperial treasure ship carrying pilgrims and riches from Mecca as a grave insult. Aurangzeb ordered the shutdown of the English East India Company's factory in Surat, imprisoned its agents, and halted all trade with British merchants, demanding the pirates' capture and restitution to safeguard ongoing commercial relations in India.[3][33] This diplomatic crisis compelled the British Crown to act, as the East India Company's lobbying highlighted the threat to lucrative Indian trade routes. In July 1696, King William III issued a royal proclamation denouncing Every—listed under aliases including Benjamin Bridgeman—and his crew as enemies of humanity, offering a £500 reward for Every's apprehension dead or alive, and £100 for each accomplice.[34][2] The decree was published in the London Gazette and disseminated across British colonies, ports in Europe, and beyond, marking an unprecedented coordinated effort that historians regard as the first international manhunt in recorded history.[4] The proclamation explicitly called upon governors, customs officials, and naval authorities worldwide to seize Every's vessel, the Fancy, and any associates, with assurances of pardon for crew members who surrendered and testified against him. This initiative reflected not only geopolitical pressures from the Mughals but also domestic concerns over piracy undermining Britain's emerging global maritime dominance, setting the stage for arrests of Every's dispersed crew in subsequent months.[3][34]

Initial Escape to Safe Havens

Following the successful capture of the Ganj-i-Sawai and Fateh Muhammed on September 7, 1695, in the Arabian Sea, Henry Every's squadron—primarily the Fancy and supporting vessels—evaded immediate pursuit by English East India Company ships and potential Mughal naval retaliation through a southward course into the Indian Ocean. Their first refuge was Île Bourbon (present-day Réunion), a French colonial outpost approximately 400 miles east of Madagascar, where local authorities under loose governance often overlooked pirate activities in exchange for economic benefits like trade in provisions and repairs. This island functioned as a practical safe haven for careening vessels, resupplying, and temporary concealment amid the era's fragmented colonial enforcement.[35][36] Upon arrival at Bourbon in late 1695, Every's crew undertook essential maintenance on the battle-damaged Fancy, including hull cleaning and rigging repairs to prepare for oceanic crossings, while systematically dividing the plunder—comprising gold, silver, gems, and other valuables totaling an estimated £325,000 to £600,000. Portions of the spoils were bartered locally for goods, and some captured passengers from the Mughal ships were reportedly sold into slavery, reflecting the brutal pragmatism of pirate logistics in remote outposts. This interlude, lasting several weeks, allowed the dispersal of select crew members wary of returning to European jurisdictions, though Every retained command of the core group and treasure-laden vessel.[35][37] From Bourbon, the pirates avoided heavily patrolled routes near the African coast, opting instead for a circuitous path around the Cape of Good Hope toward the Atlantic, thereby exploiting the vast distances and limited naval coordination of the time to outpace early manhunt efforts initiated by British proclamations in October 1695. This strategic pivot to Bourbon as an initial haven underscored the reliance on geographically isolated, tolerantly governed islands in the Mascarene archipelago, which harbored pirate operations without formal extradition risks until international pressures mounted later.[38][36]

Strategies for Concealment and Disguise

Following the capture of the Ganj-i-Sawai on September 7, 1695, Henry Every implemented measures to obscure his identity and that of his ship, the Fancy, while navigating pursuit by British, Dutch, and Mughal forces. He adopted the alias "Benjamin Bridgeman," presenting himself as "Captain Henry Bridgeman" upon arrival in the Bahamas in late 1695 or early 1696, which allowed him to interact with colonial authorities without immediate recognition as the fugitive pirate.[2][8] This pseudonym, along with others such as "Long Ben," facilitated dealings in safe havens where his true identity might otherwise provoke alarm.[2] To conceal the spoils, Every hid gold, silver, and diamonds beneath false floorboards in his cabin aboard the Fancy, preventing casual discovery during inspections or encounters.[2] The vessel itself had been modified earlier for evasion, with upper decks reduced to improve speed and maneuverability, enabling the Fancy—a 46-gun frigate—to outrun naval pursuers across the Indian Ocean and Atlantic.[8] Upon reaching Nassau, Every steered through narrow, obscure channels past Hog Island to minimize exposure to harbor watchers or patrols.[2] Bribery complemented these disguises, as Every offered Governor Nicholas Trott a purse of pieces of eight, including 20 silver pieces and 2 gold pieces per crew member (with double for himself), in exchange for safe anchorage and permission to offload.[2] He further sweetened the deal by gifting the Fancy itself—stocked with 100 barrels of gunpowder—as a defensive asset against French threats, portraying his arrival as beneficial to colonial interests rather than piratical.[2] Crew dispersal followed, with members scattering to North America, England, and Ireland by mid-1696, reducing the risk of collective identification and enabling individual concealment among merchant communities.[8] Every himself reached Ireland by June 1696, leveraging these tactics to temporarily elude the first international manhunt.[2]

Theories on Disappearance and Fate

Hypothesis of Settlement in New Providence

One hypothesis posits that Henry Every, after evading initial pursuit following the 1696 capture of the Mughal ship Ganj-i-Sawai, sought to establish a permanent base in New Providence, Bahamas, a loosely governed British colony known as a refuge for pirates and privateers. Contemporary accounts suggest Every and his crew arrived there aboard the Fancy in late April 1696, laden with treasure estimated at over £600,000, including gold, silver, and jewels. Proponents of this theory argue that the island's lax oversight under Governor Nicholas Trott made it ideal for laundering illicit gains and blending into colonial society, marking the beginning of New Providence's reputation as a pirate haven during the late 17th century.[3][39] Upon arrival, Every reportedly bribed Trott with a substantial sum—variously cited as £1,000 in gold or up to 7,000 pounds sterling—to secure official protection and recognition as legitimate privateers, allowing the crew to offload cargo without immediate interference from British authorities. This transaction, detailed in later historical reconstructions, enabled Every to pose as a wealthy trader or slaver, frequenting local establishments while distributing spoils among his men to reduce visibility. Such tactics aligned with the era's colonial corruption, where governors often overlooked piracy in exchange for kickbacks, though no primary documents from Trott's administration confirm the bribe's permanence or Every's intent for indefinite residence.[2][40] However, evidence for long-term settlement remains circumstantial and challenged by the rapid escalation of the international manhunt, which pressured Every to depart New Providence by June 1696. Crew members dispersed, with some integrating locally under assumed identities, but Every himself likely fled southward or to other havens, as no verified records place him there beyond the initial months. This hypothesis persists due to the island's role in early pirate networks—Every's visit predating the more famous "Flying Gang" era—but lacks archaeological or documentary corroboration tying him to property ownership or community ties, suggesting it served more as a transient safe harbor than a final settlement.[22][41]

Claims of Impoverished Death in England

One historical account claims that Henry Every returned to England after his piratical exploits, adopting the alias "John Avery" to evade capture, but ultimately succumbed to poverty in his native Devon due to inability to convert his treasures into usable wealth without detection. In this narrative, detailed in Captain Charles Johnson's A General History of the Pyrates (1724), Every settled in Bideford, where local authorities and merchants suspected his identity amid the £500 bounty on his head issued by King William III in 1696.[42] Unable to spend freely or invest legitimately, he reportedly approached London gem dealers to offload diamonds and jewels from the Ganj-i-Sawai, only to be systematically defrauded by them, who exploited his precarious position by offering far below market value and refusing restitution to avoid implicating themselves in fencing stolen goods.[43] Johnson's text asserts that these repeated swindles left Every destitute, forcing him to subsist on meager remnants until he died as an indigent beggar in Bideford around 1699–1700, unable even to afford basic sustenance or burial, with his body allegedly interred in an unmarked pauper's grave.[44] This portrayal emphasizes causal factors like Every's isolation—stemming from the international proclamations branding him the "Arch-Pirate" and the Mughal Empire's diplomatic pressure on Britain—and the practical barriers to laundering vast, identifiable spoils (estimated at £300,000–£600,000 in contemporary value, equivalent to tens of millions today) in a pre-modern financial system reliant on personal trust and royal oversight.[9] The claim gained traction in later works, including Colin Woodard's The Republic of Pirates (2007), which describes Every as outmaneuvered by "wealthy landowners" during attempts to legitimize his fortune, culminating in death so impoverished he could not purchase his own coffin, reinforcing Johnson's theme of ironic downfall for the era's most successful pirate.[45] However, Johnson's authorship remains pseudonymous (possibly Daniel Defoe), and the account, published nearly three decades after Every's disappearance in June 1696, relies on unverified anecdotes without supporting parish registers, wills, or eyewitness affidavits from Devon locales like Bideford or Newton Ferrers, his likely birthplace in 1659.[36] No archaeological or documentary evidence, such as probate records from the Prerogative Court of Canterbury, corroborates the pauper's end, leading some historians to view it as moralistic folklore cautioning against ill-gotten gains rather than empirical fact.[46]

Alternative Speculations and Recent Archaeological Evidence

One alternative speculation posits that Every evaded capture by enlisting as a spy in King William III's intelligence network, leveraging his maritime expertise against French naval threats during the Nine Years' War.[47] This theory, advanced by researchers in 2024, draws on a purported letter attributed to Every, suggesting collaboration with figures like Daniel Defoe and Archbishop Thomas Tenison to channel pirated wealth toward British interests, though the letter's authenticity remains unverified and contested by historians due to inconsistencies in provenance and scripting.[48] Another hypothesis claims Every buried portions of his treasure on England's Lizard Peninsula after returning covertly in 1696, based on a 19th-century document allegedly detailing the site's coordinates, but no excavations have corroborated this, and the account lacks primary sourcing.[31] Recent archaeological finds include six 17th-century Arabian silver coins unearthed in a Rhode Island orchard between 2014 and 2020 by amateur detectorist Jim Bailey, bearing Mughal-era mint marks from the Bombay mint active circa 1690–1695, consistent with spoils from the Ganj-i-Sawai.[49] These represent the earliest coins systematically excavated in North America, predating European-minted examples by decades, and their non-circulation pattern—lacking wear from trade—implies direct deposition by pirates rather than merchants.[50] Supporting records show Every's associate Joseph Faro purchasing land in Middletown, Rhode Island, in 1696 under an alias, bolstering claims of crew dispersal to New England safe havens beyond the Bahamas.[26] While not conclusively linking to Every personally, the coins' typology and context challenge narratives of his exclusive European return, suggesting American footholds for laundering plunder.[51] No shipwrecks or direct artifacts tied to Every's vessels have surfaced, limiting evidential scope to circumstantial numismatics.

Fate of the Crew

Dispersal and Arrests in North American Colonies

Approximately 75 members of Henry Every's crew, out of an original complement of around 113 to 150, dispersed to British North American colonies following the 1695 capture of the Mughal ship Ganj-i-Sawai and the subsequent international manhunt initiated by royal proclamation in July 1696.[4][52] These men sought refuge in ports across Maryland, Massachusetts, New York, Virginia, and Rhode Island, where colonial officials and merchants sometimes turned a blind eye due to shared interests in privateering or bribery.[4] Archaeological evidence, including 16 Arabian silver coins unearthed in Rhode Island (four coins), Massachusetts (ten), Connecticut (two), and North Carolina (one), minted between 1693 and 1694, corroborates their presence and spending of plunder in these areas during 1696–1697.[50] Colonial authorities, pressured by British orders to suppress piracy, arrested several suspected crew members amid heightened scrutiny after King William III's August 1696 proclamation offering £500 rewards for Every and £100 for accomplices.[4] Captured pirates William Phillips and Edward Savill, interrogated on August 27, 1696, provided testimony indicating that ships carrying Every's men had sailed from the Bahamas to Virginia, aiding efforts to track dispersals.[53] Between 1697 and 1705, exactly seven crew members faced trial in colonial courts, primarily in Massachusetts and Rhode Island jurisdictions.[27][52] All seven defendants were acquitted, reflecting challenges in proving direct participation in the Indian Ocean raids without eyewitness testimony or captured ships, as well as potential local sympathies for seafarers who blurred lines between piracy and legitimate privateering.[27][52] These outcomes contrasted with stricter enforcement in the British Isles, highlighting uneven colonial compliance amid economic incentives to harbor ex-pirates who circulated treasure into local economies.[4] No executions resulted from these proceedings, allowing surviving crew to integrate or relocate further.[52]

Trials and Executions in the British Isles

![Trials of Joseph Dawson et al.][float-right] In October 1696, six members of Henry Every's crew—Joseph Dawson (quartermaster), Edward Forseith, William May, William Bishop, James Lewis, and John Sparkes—faced trial at the Old Bailey in London before the High Court of Admiralty for mutiny on the Charles II in May 1694 and associated piracies, including robberies committed under Every's command.[54] The proceedings, documented in The Tryals of Joseph Dawson, Edward Forseith, William May, William Bishop, James Lewis, and John Sparkes, centered on witness testimonies from former crewmates like David Creagh, who detailed the mutiny and subsequent acts.[54] [52] Dawson, the sole defendant to plead guilty, hoped for leniency, while the others entered not guilty pleas and contested the evidence.[52] Chief Justice Holt summarized the case, emphasizing the crew's role in seizing the vessel and turning to piracy.[54] The jury convicted all six after deliberation.[54] Five of the convicted—Forseith, May, Bishop, Lewis, and Sparkes—received death sentences, which were carried out by hanging in London in November 1696, serving as a deterrent amid the East India Company's pressure for justice following Every's raids.[2] [30] Dawson's guilty plea earned him a reprieve from execution, though his ultimate fate remains less documented.[52] These trials represented the primary legal reckoning in the British Isles for Every's associates, with no further executions of his crew recorded there despite additional arrests, such as that of coxswain John Dann in July 1696.[52]

Acquired Wealth and Its Ramifications

Estimated Value from Key Prizes

Henry Every's crew achieved their greatest success through the capture of two Mughal ships during a raid on September 5–7, 1695: the Fateh Muhammed and the flagship Ganj-i-Sawai. The Fateh Muhammed, a 450-ton vessel, surrendered with minimal resistance, yielding treasure estimated at £40,000 to £50,000 in gold, silver, and goods.[55][1] These figures derive from accounts of the ship's cargo, which included coins and valuables intended for the Mughal court. The Ganj-i-Sawai, a heavily armed 1,600-ton ship carrying pilgrims and riches from Surat, proved more challenging after sustaining damage in a prior gun battle but ultimately fell to the pirates following a brutal boarding action. Plunder from this prize formed the bulk of Every's haul, with contemporary and historical estimates placing its value between £325,000 and £600,000 in precious metals, jewels, uncut gems, and silks.[7][24] This included approximately 500,000 gold and silver rupees, alongside diamonds and other gems whose worth was enhanced by their rarity in European markets.[24] Variations in estimates stem from incomplete inventories, the difficulty of appraising non-monetary items, and potential exaggeration in pirate broadsides and official dispatches, though multiple sources converge on the upper range for the total Mughal fleet seizure.[7][55] Prior to the Mughal raid, Every's squadron had taken lesser prizes, such as the English ship Charles II earlier in 1695, valued at around £50,000, but these paled in comparison to the Indian captures.[1] The combined value from the key Mughal prizes thus approached or exceeded £600,000, representing one of the largest single hauls in pirate history and equivalent to roughly 5–10% of the British East India Company's annual trade revenue at the time.[22][7]

Economic Distribution Among Pirates

Pirate crews under Henry Every followed articles of agreement that outlined the equitable yet hierarchical division of spoils from captured prizes. Unlike the rigid pay structures of national navies, where common sailors earned meager wages, pirates allocated shares of treasure directly, incentivizing collective effort in raids. For Every's company on the Fancy, the system was notably simple: Every received two shares as captain, while every other crew member claimed one share, reflecting a democratic ethos tempered by leadership privilege.[29][56] The haul from the 1695 capture of the Ganj-i-Sawai and Fateh Muhammad, valued at £325,000 to £600,000 in gold, silver, jewels, and other goods, was primarily secured by Every's approximately 113-man crew after consolidating with allied vessels.[3] This distribution yielded each crew member over £1,000—equivalent to a skilled laborer's lifetime earnings—while Every's double portion exceeded £2,000, enabling many to amass personal fortunes in a single voyage.[57] Other pirate captains in the squadron, such as Thomas Tew, received lesser allotments from auxiliary prizes, underscoring Every's crew's dominance in the spoils.[2] This share-based economy fostered loyalty but also led to disputes; in 1696, seventeen of Every's men were arrested in England after demanding their portions from merchants who had allegedly withheld funds, highlighting tensions in post-voyage settlements.[58] Crews typically voted on major decisions, including prize divisions, to prevent mutiny, though Every's success minimized internal strife during the expedition. Such practices contrasted with merchant vessels, where officers skimmed profits, and exemplified pirates' emphasis on immediate, tangible rewards over long-term imperial gains.[29]

Broader Impacts on Trade and Empires

The capture of the Ganj-i-Sawai and its accompanying vessels in September 1695 inflicted profound diplomatic and economic repercussions on Anglo-Mughal relations, as Emperor Aurangzeb viewed the attack—perpetrated by English pirates—as an affront enabled by British complicity or negligence. Aurangzeb responded by ordering the occupation of English trading posts in Surat, Bombay, Broach, and other ports, imprisoning East India Company (EIC) agents, and seizing British goods valued at significant sums, thereby halting trade and threatening the Company's foothold in India.[59] [60] This crisis exacerbated the EIC's vulnerabilities, with annual imports plummeting from £800,000 in 1684 to just £30,000 by 1695, and the piracy incident risking total expulsion from Mughal territories, which could have derailed Britain's early imperial commerce in Asia. To mitigate the fallout, the EIC pursued reconciliation through compensation for the plundered treasure—estimated at £200,000 to £600,000—and diplomatic appeals, ultimately restoring access to Indian markets after prolonged negotiations.[25] [61] The事件 underscored the fragility of Indian Ocean trade routes, prompting the British Crown to issue the first global manhunt proclamation in 1696, offering a £1,000 bounty (£500 each from the government and EIC) for Henry Every, which marked an early shift toward state-sponsored suppression of piracy to safeguard merchant shipping. This escalation influenced subsequent naval strategies, including enhanced escorts for EIC convoys and fortified patrols, reducing pirate depredations on pilgrim and treasure fleets while bolstering Britain's projection of maritime power.[3] [62] For the Mughal Empire, the raid eroded imperial prestige by exposing naval inadequacies in protecting the hajj convoy, contributing to internal perceptions of decline amid Aurangzeb's protracted Deccan campaigns, though it did not directly precipitate territorial losses. Conversely, for the emerging British Empire, the imperative to neutralize such threats accelerated the EIC's evolution into a quasi-sovereign entity with private naval forces, laying groundwork for formalized anti-piracy operations that facilitated expanded trade dominance in the region by the early 18th century.[62] [63]

Legacy

Influence on Subsequent Piracy Practices

Henry Every's capture of the Ganj-i-Sawai and Fateh Muhammed in September 1695, yielding an estimated £325,000 to £600,000 in treasure, demonstrated the feasibility of amassing vast wealth from a single high-value prize in the Indian Ocean, prompting a surge in European piracy targeting Mughal and East India Company shipping.[2] This success popularized the "Pirate Round," a transoceanic route involving voyages from the Atlantic around Africa's Cape of Good Hope to the Arabian Sea and Indian Ocean for raids, with bases at Madagascar before returning westward; Every's exploits as one of the most profitable practitioners amplified its adoption by subsequent pirates seeking similar hauls.[27][1] The influx of pirates into the Red Sea and Indian Ocean following Every's raid marked the onset of the Golden Age of Piracy around 1696–1725, as mariners disillusioned with low merchant wages or privateering commissions emulated his model of concentrated, high-stakes attacks over dispersed small-vessel predation.[2][3] This shift influenced captains like William Kidd, commissioned in 1695 to suppress Indian Ocean piracy partly in response to Every's actions but who instead captured prizes like the Quedagh Merchant in 1699 amid the prevailing opportunistic climate.[2] Every's evasion of capture and presumed dissipation of wealth in the Americas or Europe further exemplified a practice of short, lucrative careers followed by retirement, contrasting prolonged operations that invited naval reprisals and informing later pirates' strategies for wealth concealment and dispersal.[1] Every's multinational crew composition and emphasis on superior seamanship to outmaneuver larger vessels, as seen in his prolonged engagement with the heavily armed Ganj-i-Sawai, contributed to evolving pirate tactics favoring speed, firepower upgrades, and coordinated broadsides over boarding alone, influencing groups in both the Indian Ocean and later Caribbean theaters.[2] His establishment of New Providence in the Bahamas as a temporary haven underscored the value of ungoverned ports for refitting and recruitment, paving the way for pirate republics that supported figures like Benjamin Hornigold and Edward Teach (Blackbeard) in the 1710s.[2]

Depictions in Contemporary Accounts

Contemporary depictions of Henry Every appeared primarily in ballads, official proclamations, and trial records from the mid-1690s, reflecting both sensational admiration and official condemnation. Ballads such as A Copy of Verses, Composed by Captain Henry Every, Lately Gone to Sea to Seek His Fortune, purportedly written by Every himself but likely anonymous, portrayed him as a bold recruiter enticing sailors with promises of vast riches from Spanish and other prizes, emphasizing adventure and wealth over lawlessness. These broadside verses, circulated around 1694, depicted Every as a charismatic leader sailing under a commission against non-Christian foes, aligning with privateering rhetoric to romanticize his mutiny on the Charles II (renamed Fancy).[64] Official responses, however, framed Every as a grave threat to international relations. In June 1696, King William III issued a proclamation offering a £500 reward for his capture, describing him alias Bridgeman as the ringleader of pirates who had plundered East India Company vessels and Mughal ships, urging subjects to apprehend him dead or alive to avert reprisals against British trade.[65] Similar edicts from the Scottish Privy Council echoed this, listing Every among "sundry other pirates" whose actions endangered commerce with India following the 1695 capture of the Ganj-i-Sawai.[66] These documents highlighted the diplomatic fallout, including Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb's imprisonment of English factors in Surat, portraying Every's raid as not mere buccaneering but a catalyst for imperial tensions. Trial records of Every's crew provided detailed, depositional accounts of his leadership in the Ganj-i-Sawai assault on September 7, 1695. In the 1696 Old Bailey proceedings against associates like Joseph Dawson and William May, witnesses testified that Every commanded the bombardment and boarding, where pirates allegedly killed hundreds, looted £325,000–£600,000 in treasure, and committed rapes against female passengers, including high-status Mughal women.[16] These narratives, published in pamphlets like The Tryals of Joseph Dawson, William May, William Bishop, James Lewis, and John Sparkes, depicted Every as a ruthless organizer who divided spoils and evaded pursuit, though acquittals of some crew sparked public debate over privateering legitimacy versus outright piracy.[16] Such accounts, drawn from survivor and crew testimonies, underscored the violence but varied in scale, with some exaggerations for effect amid the era's print culture battles over piracy's moral framing.

Portrayals in Modern Media and Scholarship

In video games, Henry Avery (Every) features centrally in Uncharted 4: A Thief's End (2016), where protagonists Nathan and Samuel Drake pursue his fabled treasure from the 1695 Ganj-i-Sawai capture, encountering his Scottish grave containing skeletal remains and clues etched on a shipwreck.[67] The narrative amplifies his historical success as the pirate who evaded capture, blending factual elements like the £600,000 prize value (equivalent to billions today) with fictional adventure.[67] The Starz series Black Sails (2014–2017) references Avery as an elusive "pirate king" whose amassed fortune—estimated at over 1 million pounds sterling from Mughal ships—inspires alliances and betrayals among characters like Captain Flint, portraying him as a symbol of unattainable autonomy and wealth that eluded colonial authorities.[68] [69] Though never shown onscreen, his legend underscores themes of piracy's economic disruption, drawing from accounts of his crew's dispersal and the global manhunt post-1695.[68] Scholarly works increasingly scrutinize Every's fate beyond myth, with archaeologist Sean Kingsley's 2024 book The Pirate King: The Strange Adventures of Henry Avery and the Birth of the Golden Age of Piracy arguing his 1694 mutiny on the Charles and subsequent raids catalyzed organized piracy's expansion, using primary documents to estimate his haul at 325–600 tons of silver and gems while questioning romanticized escapes to Madagascar.[70] [71] Recent investigations, including a 2024 analysis of an 18th-century letter, tie his vanishing after June 1696 to King William III's intelligence operations, involving author Daniel Defoe and Archbishop John Tillotson in a covert network to reclaim looted assets, challenging prior assumptions of simple retirement in England.[47] These findings prioritize archival causality over folklore, highlighting Every's raids' role in straining Anglo-Mughal trade relations.[47]

References

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