His piracies were still continued on a scale commensurate with his power. Many schemes were offered to the royal council of England for fitting out a squadron to disperse his fleets and to take him captive. Others affirmed that he was altogether too powerful to be assailed in that way. They urged the expediency of sending an embassage to his court, and inviting him and his companions to come to England with all their treasures, assuring him of a hospitable reception and of the oblivion of all the past. They feared that unless these peaceful measures were adopted, his ever-increasing greatness would enable him to annihilate all commerce with the East. These rumors were so far from having any foundation in truth, that at the same time that such wondrous tales were told, the wretch was a fugitive, wandering in disguise through England, trembling in view of the scaffold, and with scarcely a shilling in his pocket. His career was sufficiently extraordinary to merit a brief notice here. Avery was born in one of the western seaports of England, and from a boy was bred to the hardships and the degradation of a rude sailor’s life. He was educated only in profanity, intemperance, and vice. As he grew up to stout boyhood he became a bold smuggler, even running contraband goods on shore on the far-away coasts of Peru. The Spaniards were poorly provided with war-ships to guard from what they deemed illicit traffic their immense regions in the New World. They therefore hired at Bristol a stout English ship, called the Duke. It was manned chiefly by English seamen. Captain Gibson was commander. Avery was first mate. The captain was a gambler, fond of his cups, and he often lingered many days in foreign ports, spending his time in haunts of dissipation. Avery was a fellow of more cunning than courage. He despised the captain, and formed a conspiracy with the most desperate men on board, to get rid of the captain and any sailors who might adhere to him, run away with the ship, and crossing over to the distant waters of the East Indies, reap a harvest of wealth from the commerce which whitened those seas. The ship was one day at anchor in a South American port. The plan had been, that night, when the captain was on shore, to weigh anchor, leaving the captain behind, and to set out on their cruise. But it so happened that the captain, that night, having drank deeply, did not go on shore as usual, but, at an early hour, went to bed. All the crew, excepting the conspirators, were either on shore or had retired to their berths. At ten o’clock at night the long-boat of the Duke came to the ship’s side, bringing sixteen stout desperadoes, whom Avery had enlisted from the vagabonds of all nations who thronged the port. They were received on board; the hatches were closed; and then, everything being secure, the anchor was leisurely weighed, and the ship put to sea.