Sir William Phips And The Silver-ship

The story of a poor boy, born on the edge of the

wilderness,--"at a despicable plantation on the river of

Kennebec, and almost the farthest village of the eastern

settlement of New England,"--yet who ended his life as

governor and nobleman, is what we have to tell. It is one of

the most romantic stories in history. He was born in 1651,

being a scion of the early days of the Puritan colony. He

came of a hig ly prolific pioneer family,--he had twenty

brothers and five sisters,--yet none but himself of this

extensive family are heard of in history or biography.

Genius is too rare a quality to be spread through such a

flock. His father was a gunsmith. Of the children, William

was one of the youngest. After his father's death, he helped

his mother at sheep-keeping in the wilderness till he was

eighteen years of age, then there came "an unaccountable

impulse upon his mind that he was born to greater matters."

The seed of genius planted in his nature was beginning to

germinate.



The story of the early life of William Phips may be told in

a few words. From sheep-tending he turned to carpentry,

becoming an expert ship-carpenter. With this trade at his

fingers' ends he went to Boston, and there first learned to

read and write, accomplishments which had not penetrated to

the Kennebec. His next step was to marry, his wife being a

widow, a Mrs. Hull, with little money but good connections.

She lifted our carpenter a step higher in the social scale.

At that time, says his biographer, "he was one tall beyond

the common set of men, and thick as well as tall, and strong

as well as thick; exceedingly robust, and able to conquer

such difficulties of diet and of travel as would have killed

most men alive. He was of a very comely though a very manly

countenance," and in character of "a most incomparable

generosity." He hated anything small or mean, was somewhat

choleric, but not given to nourish malice.






To this notable young man there soon came an adventure. He

had become a master workman, and built a ship for some

Boston merchants on the river Sheepscote, a few leagues from

his native Kennebec. The vessel was finished, and ready to

be loaded with lumber; but its first cargo proved to be very

different from that which Phips had designed. For Indians

attacked the settlement; the inhabitants, flying for their

lives, crowded on board the vessel, and Phips set sail with

a shipload of his old friends and neighbors, who could pay

him only in thanks. It is not unlikely that some of his own

brothers and sisters were among the rescued. Certainly the

extensive family of Phips must have spread somewhat widely

over the coast region of Maine.



William Phips's first adventure had proved unprofitable

except in works of charity. But he was not one to be easily

put down, having in his nature an abundance of the perilous

stuff of ambition. He was not the man to sit down and wait

for fortune to come to him. Rather, he belonged to those who

go to seek fortune. He was determined, he told his wife, to

become captain of a king's ship, and owner of a fair brick

house in the Green Lane of North Boston. It took him some

eight or nine years to make good the first of these

predictions, and then, in the year 1683, he sailed into the

harbor of Boston as captain of the "Algier Rose," a frigate

of eighteen guns and ninety-five men.



It was by the magic wand of sunken silver that our hero

achieved this success. The treasures of Peru, loaded on

Spanish ships, had not all reached the ports of Spain. Some

cargoes of silver had gone to the bottom of the Atlantic.

Phips had heard of such a wreck on the Bahamas, had sailed

thither, and had made enough money by the enterprise to pay

him for a voyage to England. While in the Bahamas he had

been told of another Spanish wreck, "wherein was lost a

mighty treasure, hitherto undiscovered." It was this that

took him to England. He had made up his mind to be the

discoverer of this sunken treasure-ship. The idea took

possession of him wholly. His hope was to interest some

wealthy persons, or the government itself, in his design.

The man must have had in him something of that

silver-tongued eloquence which makes persuasion easy, for

the royalties at Whitehall heard him with favor and support,

and he came back to New England captain of a king's ship,

with full powers to search the seas for silver.



And now we have reached the verge of the romance of the life

of William Phips. He had before him a difficult task, but he

possessed the qualities which enable men to meet and

overcome difficulty. The silver-ship was said to have been

sunk somewhere near the Bahamas; the exact spot it was not

easy to learn, for half a century had passed since its

demise. Sailing thither in the "Algier Rose," Phips set

himself to find the sunken treasure. Here and there he

dredged, using every effort to gain information, trying

every spot available, ending now in disappointment, starting

now with renewed hope, continuing with unflagging energy.

His frequent failures would have discouraged a common man,

but Phips was not a common man, and would not accept defeat.



The resolute searcher had more than the difficulties of the

sea-bottom to contend with. His men lost hope, grew weary of

unprofitable labor, and at last rose in mutiny They fancied

that they saw their way clear to an easier method of getting

silver, and marched with drawn cutlasses to the quarterdeck,

where they bade their commander to give up his useless

search and set sail for the South Seas. There they would

become pirates, and get silver without dredging or drudging.



It was a dangerous crisis. Phips stood with empty hands

before that crew of armed and reckless men. Yet choler and

courage proved stronger than sword-blades. Roused to fury,

he rushed upon the mutineers with bare hands, knocked them

down till the deck was strewn with fallen bodies, and by

sheer force of anger and fearlessness quelled the mutiny and

forced the men to return to their duty.



They were quelled, but not conquered. The daring adventurer

was to have a more dangerous encounter with these would-be

pirates. Some further time had passed in fruitless search.

The frigate lay careened beside a rock of a Bahaman island,

some eight or ten men being at work on its barnacled sides,

while the others had been allowed to go on shore. They

pretended that they wished to take a ramble in the tropical

woods. What they wished to do was to organize a more

effectual mutiny, seize the ship, leave the captain and

those who held with him on that island, and sail away as

lawless rovers of the deep.



Under the great trees of that Spanish island, moss-grown and

bowery, in a secluded spot which nature seemed to have set

aside for secret counsels, the mutinous crew perfected their

plans, and signed a round-robin compact which pledged all

present to the perilous enterprise. One man they needed to

make their project sure. They could not do without the

carpenter. He was at work on the vessel. They sent him a

message to come to them in the woods. He came, heard their

plans, affected to look on them favorably, but asked for a

half-hour to consider the matter. This they were not

disposed to grant. They must have an answer at once. The

carpenter looked about him; dark and resolute faces

surrounded him. Yet he earnestly declared he must have the

time. They vigorously declared he should not. He was

persistent, and in the end prevailed. The half-hour respite

was granted.



The carpenter then said that he must return to the vessel.

His absence from his work would look suspicious. They could

send a man with him to see that he kept faith. The

enterprise would be in danger if the captain noticed his

absence. The mutineers were not men of much intelligence or

shrewdness, and consented to his return. The carpenter, who

had at heart no thought of joining the mutineers, had gained

his point and saved the ship. In spite of the guard upon his

movements he managed to get a minute's interview with

Captain Phips, in which he told him what was afoot.



He was quickly at his post again, and under the eyes of his

guard, but he had accomplished his purpose. Captain Phips

was quick to realize the danger, and called about him those

who were still in the ship. They all agreed to stand by him.

By good fortune the gunner was among them. The energetic

captain lost no time in devising what was to be done. During

the work on the ship the provisions had been taken ashore

and placed in a tent, where several pieces of artillery were

mounted to defend them, in case the Spaniards, to whom the

island belonged, should appear. Quickly but quietly these

guns were brought back to the ship. Then they and the other

guns of the ship were loaded and brought to bear on the

tent, and the gangway which connected the ship with the land

was drawn on board. No great time had elapsed, but Captain

Phips was ready for his mutinous crew.



To avert suspicion during these preparations, the carpenter,

at the suggestion of Phips, had gone ashore, and announced

himself as ready to join the mutineers. This gave them great

satisfaction, and after a short interval to complete their

plans they issued in a body from the woods and approached

the ship. As they drew near the tent, however, they looked

at one another in surprise and dismay. The guns were gone!



"We are betrayed!" was the fearful whisper that ran round

the circle.



"Stand off, you wretches, at your peril!" cried the captain,

in stern accents.



The guns of the ship were trained upon them. They knew the

mettle of Captain Phips. In a minute more cannon-balls might

be ploughing deadly gaps through their midst. They dared not

fly; they dared not fight. Panic fear took possession of

them. They fell upon their knees in a body, begged the

captain not to fire, and vowed that they would rather live

and die with him than any man in the world. All they had

found fault with was that he would not turn pirate;

otherwise he was the man of their hearts.



The captain was stern; they were humble and beseeching. In

the end he made them deliver up their arms, and then

permitted them to come on board, a thoroughly quelled body

of mutineers. But Captain Phips knew better than to trust

these men a third time. The moment the ship was in sailing

trim he hoisted anchor and sailed for Jamaica, where he

turned the whole crew, except the few faithful ones, adrift,

and shipped another crew, smaller, but, as he hoped, more

trustworthy.



The treasure-ship still drew him like a magnet. He had not

begun to think of giving up the search. Discouragement,

failure, mutiny, were to him but incidents. The silver was

there, somewhere, and have it he would, if perseverance

would avail. From Jamaica he sailed to Hispaniola. There his

fluent persuasiveness came again into play. He met a very

old man, Spaniard or Portuguese, who was said to know where

the ship lay, and "by the policy of his address" wormed from

him some further information about the treasure-ship. The

old man told him that it had been wrecked on a reef of

shoals a few leagues from Hispaniola, and just north of Port

de la Plata, which place got its name from the landing there

of a boat-load of sailors with plate saved from the sinking

vessel. Phips proceeded thither and searched narrowly, but

without avail. The sea held its treasures well. The charmed

spot was not to be found. The new crew, also, seemed growing

mutinous. Phips had had enough of mutiny. He hoisted sail

and made the best of his way back to England.



Here trouble and annoyance awaited him. He found powerful

enemies. Doubtless ridicule also met his projects. To plough

the bottom of the Atlantic, in search of a ship that had

gone down fifty years before, certainly seemed to yield fair

food for mirth. Yet the polite behavior, the plausible

speech, the enthusiasm and energy of the man had their

effect. He won friends among the higher nobility. The story

of the mutiny and of its bold suppression had also its

effect. A man who could attack a horde of armed mutineers

with his bare fists, a man so ready and resolute in time of

danger, so unflinchingly persevering in time of

discouragement, was the man to succeed if success were

possible. Finally, the Duke of Albemarle and some others

agreed to supply funds for the expedition, and Captain Phips

in no long time had another ship under his feet, and was

once more upon the seas.



His ship was now accompanied by a tender. He had contrived

many instruments to aid him in his search. It is said that

he invented the diving-bell. There was certainly one used by

him, but it may have been an old device, improved by his

Yankee ingenuity.



Port de la Plata was reached in due time, the year being

1684 or 1685. Here Phips had a large canoe or periago made,

fitted for eight or ten oars. It was hollowed out from the

trunk of a cotton-tree, he using "his own hands and adze" in

the work, enduring much hardship, and "lying abroad in the

woods many nights together."



The shoals where search was to be made were known by the

name of the "Boilers." They lay only two or three feet below

the surface, yet their sloping sides were so steep that,

says one author, "a ship striking on them would immediately

sink down, who could say how many fathom, into the ocean?"



The tender and the periago were anchored near these

dangerous shoals, and the work went on from them. Days

passed, still of fruitless labor. The men, as they said,

could make nothing of all their "peeping among the Boilers,"

Fortunately they had calm weather and a quiet sea, and could

all day long pursue their labors around and among the

shoals.



A day came in which one of them, looking far down into the

smooth water, saw what is known as a sea-feather, one of the

attractive products of those gardens of the seas, growing

out of what seemed a rock below him. He turned to an Indian

diver, and asked him to dive down and bring it up.



"We will take it to the captain," he said. "It is tiresome

going back always empty-handed."



The diver made the leap. In a minute he was back with the

sea-feather in his hand. There were signs of excitement on

his dusky face as he climbed into the boat. He had indeed a

surprising story to tell.



"I saw great guns down there," he said.



"What? guns?" was the general cry.



"Yes, great guns, as from some ship."



"Guns!" The despondency of the crew at once changed to

ardent enthusiasm. Had they at length hit upon the spot for

which they had so long sought in vain? The Indian was told

to dive again, and see what could be found.



He did so. When he came up, their eyes were ready to start

from their heads, for he bore with him an object of infinite

promise to their wealth-craving souls. It was a lump of

silver,--a "sow," they called it,--worth some two or three

hundred pounds in money.



The search was over! The spot was found! Fortune lay within

their reach! Marking the spot with a buoy, they rowed back

to the ship, on which the captain had remained. Here they,

disposed to have some sport, declared with long faces that

the affair had better come to an end. They were wasting time

and labor; the sea had no treasure to yield.



"If we were wise, captain," said the leading speaker, "we'd

pull up stakes and sail back for merry old England. There's

nothing but failure here. As much work done in digging and

drudging at home would bring tenfold more profit."



Phips listened in silence to him and the others, looking

from face to face.



"Our disappointments have been many," he replied, in a calm

and resolute tone. "Yet I do not despair. I am determined to

wait patiently on God's providence. We will find the

treasure-ship yet, my lads. Do not lose courage."



Turning his gaze to one side as he spoke, he started

violently, and then asked, in a tone so constrained that it

seemed the voice of agony,--



"Why, what is this? Whence comes this?"



He had caught sight of the sow of silver, which they had

cunningly laid a little out of direct vision.



"It is silver, Captain Phips," said the spokesman. "We did

but jest with you. That came from the bottom of the sea. All

is well; we have found the treasure-ship."



"Then, thanks be to God, we are made!" cried the captain,

clasping his hands in fervent thankfulness.



There was no longer any lack of energy in the labor. All

hands went to work with a hearty good-ill. Curiosity to

learn what the sea had to yield wrought upon them as much as

desire for reward. Up came the silver, sow after sow. In a

short time they had brought up no less than thirty-two tons

of this precious metal, with six tons besides that were

raised and appropriated by a Captain Adderly, of Providence,

whom Phips had engaged to help him, and who took this means

of helping himself. His crew was small, but his diligence

great.



The silver was not all in sows. Much of it was coined, and

this coined silver was, in many cases, covered with a crust,

several inches thick, of limestone-like material. It came

out in great lumps, the crust needing to be broken with iron

tools, when out would tumble whole bushels of rusty pieces

of eight, Nor was the treasure confined to silver. There

came up gold in large quantities, and also pearls and other

precious stones. The Spaniards had gleaned actively in those

days of old, when the treasures of Peru were theirs for the

taking; and the ocean, its secret hiding-place once found,

yielded generously. In short, the treasure recovered is said

to have been worth nearly three hundred thousand pounds

sterling. They did not exhaust the deposit. Their provisions

failed, and they had to leave before the work was completed.

Others who came after them were well paid for their labor.



The treasure on board, Captain Phips had new trouble. The

men, seeing "such vast litters of silver sows and pigs come

on board," were not content with ordinary sailors' pay. They

might even be tempted to seize the ship and take its rich

lading for themselves. Phips was in great apprehension. He

had not forgotten the conduct of his former crew. He did his

utmost to gain the friendship of his men, and promised them

a handsome reward for their services, even if he had to give

them all his own share.



England was reached in safety, and the kingdom electrified

by the story of Captain Phips's success. The romantic

incidents of the narrative attracted universal attention.

Phips was the hero of the hour. Some of his enemies, it is

true, did their utmost to make him a wronged hero. They

diligently sought to persuade James II., then on the throne,

to seize the whole treasure as the appanage of the crown,

and not be content with the tithe to which his prerogative

entitled him. James II. was tyrannical but not unjust. He

refused to rob the mariners. "Captain Phips," he said, "he

saw to be a person of that honesty, ability, and fidelity

that he should not want his countenance."



Phips was certainly honest,--so much so, indeed, that

little of the treasure came to him. His promises to his men

were carefully kept; his employers were paid the last penny

of their dues; in the end, out of the whole, there remained

to himself less than sixteen thousand pounds. The Duke of

Albemarle, moved by admiration for his honesty, gave him, as

a present from his wife, a gold cup of the value of nearly

one thousand pounds. As for the king, he was so pleased with

the whole conduct of the adventurer, and perhaps so charmed

by Phips's silvery speech, that he conferred on him the

honor of knighthood, and the plain Kennebec boy became Sir

William Phips, and a member of the aristocracy of England.



Every one acknowledged that the discoverer owed his success

to merit, not to luck. He was evidently a man of the highest

capacity, and might, had he chosen, have filled high places

and gained great honors in England. But America was his

native land, and he was not to be kept from its shores.



He became such a favorite at court, that one day, when King

James was particularly gracious to him, and asked him what

favor he desired, he replied that he asked nothing for

himself, but hoped that the king would restore to his native

province its lost liberties, by returning the charter of

which it had been deprived.



"Anything but that!" exclaimed James, who had no idea of

restoring liberty to mother-land or colony.



He appointed Phips, however, high sheriff of New England,

and the adventurer returned home as a man of power and

station. On his way there he visited the silver-ship again,

and succeeded in adding something of value to his fortune.

Then, sailing to Boston, he rejoined his wife after a five

years' absence, and, to complete the realization of his

predictions, immediately began to build himself a "fair

brick house in Green Lane."



We have finished our story, which was to tell how the

sheep-boy of the Kennebec rose to be high sheriff of New

England, with the privilege of writing "Sir" before his

name. His after-life was little less memorable than the part

of it told, but we have no space left to tell it in.



King James was soon driven from the throne, and King William

took his place, but Sir William Phips retained his power and

influence. In 1690 he led an army against Port Royal in

Acadia, took it, and came back to receive the plaudits of

the Bostonians. He next attempted to conquer all Canada from

the French, attacked Quebec with a strong force, but was

repulsed, largely in consequence of a storm that scattered

his ships. The Bostonians had now no plaudits for him. The

expedition had cost New England about forty thousand pounds,

and there was not a penny in the treasury. The difficulty

was overcome by the issue of treasury-notes, an expedient

which was not adopted in England till five years afterwards.

Charles Montagu, the alleged inventor of exchequer bills

doubtless owed his idea to the sharp-witted Bostonians.



The beginning of 1692 found Sir William again in England,

whence he came back to his native land as captain-general

and governor-in-chief of the colony of Massachusetts. From

sheep-boy he had risen to the title of "Your Excellency."

Phips was governor of Massachusetts during the witchcraft

delusion. The part he took in it was not a very active one;

but when, in 1693, he found that grand juries were beginning

to throw out indictments, and petit juries to return

verdicts of "Not guilty," he ended the whole mad business by

emptying the prisons, then containing about one hundred and

fifty persons committed, while over two hundred more were

accused. In 1693 Governor Phips led an expedition against

the Indians of Maine, and forced them to conclude a treaty

of peace. In 1694 he went to England, to answer certain

accusations against his conduct as governor, and here was

taken suddenly sick, and died February 18, 1695.



The noble house of Phips, thus instituted, has steadily

grown in rank and dignity since that date, bearing

successively the titles of baron, viscount, earl, until

finally, in 1838, a Phips attained the rank of marquis of

Normandy. It is a remarkable development from the life of

that poor boy, one of a family of twenty-six, whose early

life was spent in tending sheep in the wilderness of Maine.