Pirates of the Barcadares: early mariners in Belize left archaeologists tantalizing traces of their lives but no buried treasure

Natural History, Nov, 2002 by Daniel Finamore

In Bucaniers of America: Or, a true account of the most remarkable assaults committed of late years upon the coasts of the West-Indies, John Esquemeling relates how the seventeenth-century pirate Pierre le Grand "alone with one only boat; wherein he had eight and twenty persons, no more to help him" seized a large Spanish vessel:

The boat ... wherein Pierre le Grand was, with his companions had now been at Sea, a long time, without finding any thing, according to his intent of Piracy, suitable to make a prey. And now their provisions beginninng to fail, they could keep themselves no longer upon the Ocean; or they must of necessity starve. Being almost reduced to despair, they espied a great Ship, belonging unto the Spanish Flota, which had separated from the rest. This bulky Vessel they resolved to set upon; and take; or die in the attempt.... It was in the dusk of the Evening, or soon after when this great action was performed. But before it was begun, they gave orders unto the Chirurgeon of the boat, to bore a hole i'th' sides thereof; to the intent that their own Vessel sinking under them, they might be compelled to attack more vigorously, and endeavour more hastily to run aboard the great Ship. This was performed accordingly; and without any other arms than a Pistol in one of their hands, and a Sword in the other, they immediately climbed up the sides of the Ship, and ran altogether into the great Cabin; where they found the Captain, with several of his companions, playing at Cards. Here they set a Pistol to his breast, commanding him to deliver up the Ship unto their obedience. The Spaniards seeing the Pirates aboard their Ship, without scarce having seen them at Sea, cried out, `Jesus bless us! Are these Divels, or what are they?' In the mean while, some of them took possession, of the Gun room, and siezed the arms and Military affairs they found there; killing as many of the Ship, as made any opposition. By which means the Spaniards presently were compelled to surrender. That very day the Captain of the Ship, had been told, by some of the Seamen, that the boat, which was in view cruzing, was a boat of Pirates. Unto whom the Captain slighting their advice, made answer: `What then? Must I be afraid of such a pitiful thing, as that is? No, Nor though she were a Ship as big, and as strong as mine is.'

Pirates, among them Edward Teach (better known as Blackbeard) and Henry Morgan (who ended up knighted and appointed lieutenant governor of Jamaica) are an inescapable element of Caribbean lore. My own appreciation for their importance to the region's cultural history began to crystallize when, as an archaeologist, I started excavating Maya sites in the Central American country of Belize. Free-spirited British adventurers were believed to have settled illicitly within the cays and reefs of a coast once claimed by Spain. From their lairs they sneaked out periodically to perform piratical acts of independence against Britain's economic oppression and Spain's cultural conceit. Unlike the Maya, the early European intruders--who began to make their presence felt in the second half of the seventeenth century--left few traces behind. Yet, at least in the popular imagination, there was good reason for the secrecy and paucity of evidence surrounding their colorful lives.

Intrigued by Belize's origin myths, in 1985 I decided to determine whether they could be supported by archaeological evidence. At least a few things were known: Over time, the pirates had established seasonal camps up the rivers, in the bush interior. There they cut valuable wood for export; perhaps the remnants of that trade could be discovered.

Of course, I wasn't the first to speculate on what artifacts would be left behind from a community of pirates. Herman Melville, in his series of sketches called The Encantadas, or Enchanted Isles, wrote about remote islets beyond civilization that were "a secure retreat, an undiscoverable hiding place," where buccaneers found the "tranquility which they fiercely denied to every civilized harbor in that part of the world." Strewn across the beaches of these islands were "tokens of things quite in accordance with those wild traits, popularly, and no doubt truly enough, imputed to the freebooters at large," including "old cutlasses and daggers reduced to mere threads of rust, which, doubtless, had stuck between Spanish ribs ere now." I had high hopes.

Fulfillment of sorts came quickly, because one morning as I climbed out of my tent, I cut my hand on a jagged piece of broken glass protruding from the mud. It turned out to be a fragment of a darkgreen British rum bottle. My expedition co-workers and I had chosen to place our field camp in exactly the same place as had one of Belize's legendary pirates. But it would not be until years later, beginning in the 1990s, that I was able to indulge my curiosity about pirates and investigate the remains of one of their settlements.

Following the Treaty of Madrid in 1667, whereby the English Crown agreed to join Spain in suppressing piracy, any English mariner who wanted a life different from that of a Jack Tar, or common seaman, suddenly found his choices narrowed. Many went to the coast of Belize, a remote part of Spain's New World empire, where there was no significant Spanish occupation. The Dominican friar Joseph Delgado traveled through the country in 1677 and was captured by English pirates, under the command of Bartholomew Sharpe. The pirates were camped on an island nine miles off the mouth of the Belize River--probably on Saint George's Cay. (Fortunately for the historical record, the friar lived to tell the tale.)