Chapter: SKETCH SIXTH. BARRINGTON ISLE AND THE BUCCANEERS.

  "Let us all servile base subjection scorn,
  And as we be sons of the earth so wide,
  Let us our father's heritage divide,
  And challenge to ourselves our portions dew
  Of all the patrimony, which a few
  hold on hugger-mugger in their hand."

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  "Lords of the world, and so will wander free,
  Whereso us listeth, uncontroll'd of any."

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  "How bravely now we live, how jocund, how near the
  first inheritance, without fear, how free from little troubles!"


Near two centuries ago Barrington Isle was the resort of that famous
wing of the West Indian Buccaneers, which, upon their repulse from the
Cuban waters, crossing the Isthmus of Darien, ravaged the Pacific side
of the Spanish colonies, and, with the regularity and timing of a modern
mail, waylaid the royal treasure-ships plying between Manilla and
Acapulco. After the toils of piratic war, here they came to say their
prayers, enjoy their free-and-easies, count their crackers from the
cask, their doubloons from the keg, and measure their silks of Asia with
long Toledos for their yard-sticks.

As a secure retreat, an undiscoverable hiding-place, no spot in those
days could have been better fitted. In the centre of a vast and silent
sea, but very little traversed--surrounded by islands, whose
inhospitable aspect might well drive away the chance navigator--and yet
within a few days' sail of the opulent countries which they made their
prey--the unmolested Buccaneers found here that tranquillity which they
fiercely denied to every civilized harbor in that part of the world.
Here, after stress of weather, or a temporary drubbing at the hands of
their vindictive foes, or in swift flight with golden booty, those old
marauders came, and lay snugly out of all harm's reach. But not only was
the place a harbor of safety, and a bower of ease, but for utility in
other things it was most admirable.

Barrington Isle is, in many respects, singularly adapted to careening,
refitting, refreshing, and other seamen's purposes. Not only has it good
water, and good anchorage, well sheltered from all winds by the high
land of Albemarle, but it is the least unproductive isle of the group.
Tortoises good for food, trees good for fuel, and long grass good for
bedding, abound here, and there are pretty natural walks, and several
landscapes to be seen. Indeed, though in its locality belonging to the
Enchanted group, Barrington Isle is so unlike most of its neighbors,
that it would hardly seem of kin to them.

"I once landed on its western side," says a sentimental voyager long
ago, "where it faces the black buttress of Albemarle. I walked beneath
groves of trees--not very lofty, and not palm trees, or orange trees, or
peach trees, to be sure--but, for all that, after long sea-faring, very
beautiful to walk under, even though they supplied no fruit. And here,
in calm spaces at the heads of glades, and on the shaded tops of slopes
commanding the most quiet scenery--what do you think I saw? Seats which
might have served Brahmins and presidents of peace societies. Fine old
ruins of what had once been symmetric lounges of stone and turf, they
bore every mark both of artificialness and age, and were, undoubtedly,
made by the Buccaneers. One had been a long sofa, with back and arms,
just such a sofa as the poet Gray might have loved to throw himself
upon, his Crebillon in hand.

"Though they sometimes tarried here for months at a time, and used the
spot for a storing-place for spare spars, sails, and casks; yet it is
highly improbable that the Buccaneers ever erected dwelling-houses upon
the isle. They never were here except their ships remained, and they
would most likely have slept on board. I mention this, because I cannot
avoid the thought, that it is hard to impute the construction of these
romantic seats to any other motive than one of pure peacefulness and
kindly fellowship with nature. That the Buccaneers perpetrated the
greatest outrages is very true--that some of them were mere cutthroats
is not to be denied; but we know that here and there among their host
was a Dampier, a Wafer, and a Cowley, and likewise other men, whose
worst reproach was their desperate fortunes--whom persecution, or
adversity, or secret and unavengeable wrongs, had driven from Christian
society to seek the melancholy solitude or the guilty adventures of the
sea. At any rate, long as those ruins of seats on Barrington remain,
the most singular monuments are furnished to the fact, that all of the
Buccaneers were not unmitigated monsters.

"But during my ramble on the isle I was not long in discovering other
tokens, of things quite in accordance with those wild traits, popularly,
and no doubt truly enough, imputed to the freebooters at large. Had I
picked up old sails and rusty hoops I would only have thought of the
ship's carpenter and cooper. But I found old cutlasses and daggers
reduced to mere threads of rust, which, doubtless, had stuck between
Spanish ribs ere now. These were signs of the murderer and robber; the
reveler likewise had left his trace. Mixed with shells, fragments of
broken jars were lying here and there, high up upon the beach. They were
precisely like the jars now used upon the Spanish coast for the wine and
Pisco spirits of that country.

"With a rusty dagger-fragment in one hand, and a bit of a wine-jar in
another, I sat me down on the ruinous green sofa I have spoken of, and
bethought me long and deeply of these same Buccaneers. Could it be
possible, that they robbed and murdered one day, reveled the next, and
rested themselves by turning meditative philosophers, rural poets, and
seat-builders on the third? Not very improbable, after all. For consider
the vacillations of a man. Still, strange as it may seem, I must also
abide by the more charitable thought; namely, that among these
adventurers were some gentlemanly, companionable souls, capable of
genuine tranquillity and virtue."

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 Hey, there's a quote from Spenser. Hello quote from Spenser. Melville tells you that Barrington Island was the home of pirates, or buccaneers. Its isolation meant that pirates could hang out without fear of being hunted down and arrested. Barrington Island has trees and fruit and is generally pleasant, unlike all the other islands around. Thus a happy place for pirates. The narrative quotes some unknown sentimental traveler. Why? Maybe because random quotation is fun? Anyway, the random quotation and Melville agree that pirates are awful, but argue that some of them are maybe not so bad. You wonder what the random quotation person would say if pirates robbed him. But that we shall never know.

