Pirate Nation. David Childs
a bond, in this case of about £50, as a guarantee of good behaviour. The Appleyard letters ordered the captains of this three-ship group not to ‘robbe, spoyle, infest, trouble, evil intreate, apprehende, ne take any Portingales, Spaniardes, or any other persouns whiche be in league and amitie with her majestie’, an undertaking that they felt would be more honoured in the breach than the observance.
There is a good indication of the company that Frobisher brothers had been keeping of late, in that their fellow commander was Peter Killigrew, a member of the piratical princes of Cornwall who dominated seaborne crime in the West Country from their stronghold of Pendennis Castle, with the added aura of untouchability that came with the appointment of Sir John Killigrew as the commissioner for piracy in Cornwall
The three ships sailed south in March and in May entered Plymouth Sound to dispose of the cargo legally taken from five French Catholic vessels. Immediately things began to unravel, for the goods were seized, the Admiralty Court justifying this action by accusing Martin Frobisher of aiding and abetting another pirate, Thomas Cobham, in a fierce fight against a Spanish ship, Katherine. Cobham claimed that he had always suspected his target to have been French and thus was quite at liberty to show his gratitude to Frobisher for Anne Appleyard’s assistance by rewarding that skipper with a part of the prize cargo of wines and tapestries, some of which was disposed of at Baltimore in Ireland, before the ship returned to Plymouth to sell the rest.
Unfortunately, the pirates’ actions had sparked off a diplomatic row. The tapestries had been sent by the Spanish ambassador in London, Guzmán de Silva, as a gift to Philip of Spain; more unfortunate still was that this was also a period in Elizabeth’s roller-coaster relationship with Spain in which she was favouring appeasement. The pirates and their plunder were both seized, with the former being sent to London under escort.
In London the brothers gave a good account of themselves, and they and their French prizes were freed. However, in their absence John Appleyard’s agent, the well-connected Thomas Bowes, had travelled to Plymouth and, quoting Privy Council authority, removed Katherine’s wine from bondage and disappeared with both the wine and, possibly, the tapestries. All was unravelling for the brothers who, no sooner than they were released, found themselves cited in a lawsuit for the recovery of the wine, instigated by their one-time partner, John Appleyard. Unable to produce the barrels, they were flung into Launceston Jail on 15 July, from where they were sent to London in September to appear before a sympathetic Privy Council, who once more ordered their release.
Not so their casual acquaintance, Cobham. On being apprehended he was taken to the Tower to endure the harshest of punishments. This began with him being stripped and hung upside down so that the soles of his feet could be beaten, a most painful torture. Then he was spreadeagled on the filthy cell floor with a sharp stone under his back and a heavy round of shot placed on his stomach. This excruciating punishment, coupled with starvation rations, would have brought about his certain death, had not friends in high places (the family name gives an indication as to whom they were) pleaded successfully for his release. Yet again it was not the seriousness of a crime that had dictated the severity of the sentence, but to whom the miscreant could turn to for support.
Undeterred by their lucky escape, the now impecunious Frobishers reverted to their chosen career and it was not long before their practice of non-selective prize-taking was again being brought to the attention of the courts. In May 1565 they were named as the plunderers of a cargo of cochineal being carried in the Spanish ship, Flying Spirit. Escaping judgement, they amassed sufficient ill-gotten funds to purchase their own craft, the 100-ton Mary Flower, a ship in which Frobisher staged one of his several fiascos.
Frobisher joined his new command on Tyneside in September. By then she had been made seaworthy and just needed victualling, a master and crew, and a fair wind to waft her southward into the predatory shipping lanes. The victualling took some time to complete, probably because of a lack of ready cash, and it was not until late December that she slipped down to the sea on the outgoing tide.
Frobisher had prepared a plausible cover-story to mask his intentions, telling the authorities that his destination was Guinea, although a crew of just thirty-six would indicate that he was not making any allowance for the high death-rate that this destination inevitably inflicted.
Not that he was going to experience such mortality. Off the Humber, Mary Flower was pounded by a storm so fierce that she lost both her sails and her masts, and only Frobisher’s skill in beaching her on the sands near Scarborough saved the crew from drowning. Once beached, the brothers’ penury resulted in their being detained, for they had insufficient funds to pay for either the ship’s repairs and refloating, or to meet the demands of creditors who had travelled down the coastal road to pay them a visit. The result was that the ship was impounded until some outstanding debts were settled.
Then, with beer, bread, biscuit and beef embarked and paid for, officers from the Court of Admiralty turned up and took Martin Frobisher into custody for questioning. Very sensibly John Frobisher did not wait for him to return, but floated off, only to meet more stormy weather. Records show that he passed into the Thames in May – the voyage from Tyneside having taken four and a half months to accomplish. What happened thereafter is not recorded but the Admiralty judge, Dr Lewes, was not convinced by Martin Frobisher’s explanation as to his lawful intentions. An attempt was made to frame him for the seizure of the Flemish ship White Unicorn, whose path approximated to that taken by Mary Flower, but when this failed to hold water he had to be released.
However fierce the force of the court’s warning to Frobisher, it does not seem to have penetrated into his consciousness. Within days, maybe hours, of being released, he had obtained letters of marque from the exiled Huguenot leader, Admiral Coligny, authorising him to seize any French Catholic vessels. Such a letter acted as a passport to a new command, and it was not long before Frobisher was back at sea as captain of Robert, which was based at Rye, along with several other pirate ships.
Once again the inability to read the small print on Coligny’s commission was the undoing of Frobisher, who was soon taking prizes based on the riches rather than the religion of their owners. Protests were made and noted until, in March 1569, Frobisher was apprehended ashore and charged with the seizing of Mary of Montaigne and the disposal of her cargo of wine. Naturally, Frobisher pleaded innocence and in keeping with tradition blamed his absent partner for the deed. Although his crew turned against him and stated that he had taken a share of 50 tunnes of wine, he was released to return to his established ways. But this time he had made an implacable and industrious foe. Robert Friar, the owner of Mary’s stolen wine, turned detective and tracked down most of his missing barrels, also acquiring evidence that Frobisher, far from being innocent, had sold six barrels of the wine to a merchant in Chichester. Yet again, Dr Lewes sent his officers out to invite Frobisher to explain himself.
He was apprehended in Aldeburgh to which he had come in his new ship, the prize Magdalene, which he had exchanged for Robert. It was a case of foolishness overtopping misfortune. Magdalene and her cargo of lead, ivory and wine was owned by a syndicate of merchants of Rouen who had contacts inside the Privy Council, whom they petitioned for restitution and redress. The thinking pirate would have disposed of both ship and cargo privily at Baltimore, as Frobisher had done with his earlier haul of wine, but no one ever accused Frobisher of being too bright. By now he had also to explain his involvement with the capture and ransacking of Saint John of Bordeaux and several other vessels not covered by Coligny’s letters.
Even if Dr Lewes’s patience had not run out, that of the Privy Council, anxious to keep international relations on an even keel, had. In late August the High Court of Admiralty judge was given clear direction:
We send unto you by this bearer, one of the knight Marshall’s men, Martyn Furbusher, against whom you know what grievous complaints have been made of divers and sundry piracies by him committed. We pray you therefore to send him to the Marshalsea where he may remain in sure and safe custody, until you send for him again and may upon such information as he is to be charged withal, proceed against him with severity . . .
Lewes responded by throwing Frobisher into the Marshalsea, his release dependent on the payment of a massive fine of £900,