It should be explained that our whiskery hero was a sort of admiral, for he commanded not only his own ship, but he was attended by three auxiliary sloops, one of which--the _Revenge_--belonged to the peculiar and picturesque Major Stede Bonnet. What did these ships look like? Well, the old British Navy had five classes of men-of-war, rated on the number of guns; Blackbeard’s own ship, the attorney general on a later occasion said, was equal to a fifth-class man-of-war; that is, he mounted forty guns, ranged on two decks, carrying a complement of some one hundred and forty or fifty men when his articles were full. She was about twenty feet in the beam and a little more than a hundred feet long; rigged with square sails and capable of good speed. The sloops, a general term for a variety of small ships, fought only ten guns, though the man-power was not proportionate, fifty or sixty men sometimes being crowded aboard. Shipbuilding was to wait generations for the start of the impetus which carried it to its culmination in the early nineteenth century. Nobody knows just what turned Major Bonnet to pirating. Some say he had so much domestic misery that he simply felt he would have to chaw up something or somebody; others, that the works in his brains had slipped a little out of gear. It could hardly have been money, for Bonnet was a well-to-do planter of Barbados, where his civic spirit had been so keen that he had earned the military title of major in service against the enemies of that colony. Perhaps he had been reading the _Diamond Dick_ stories of that era, and was so fired by them as to forget his middle years, his decorous manners, his respectable standing, and craved for a taste of real life. However that may have been, he bought a sloop, christened her romantically the _Revenge_, and, under the usual pretense of going privateering, picked up the right gang and put to sea in the late summer of 1717. He knew nothing about the sea except that under certain circumstances it would drown one. His crew were quick to see that their commander was no sailorman. His pretense at seamanship provoked their great-mouthed grins and deriding whispers and nods. He was driven to hide behind his mate, who really worked the ship; and to the end of his career, which lasted just about one year, he employed usually a sailing master. But his courage, his hard temper, his resolution kept his feet on the quarter-deck and forced a respect that his landlubberliness denied him. That is, he wrung a deference from all but old Blackbeard. Bonnet fell in with him in August, 1717, and they made it up to sail together. The bearded bear, however, soon saw that his partner was no skipper, and, growling and contemptuous, he summarily removed Bonnet from his own deck and articled him in an inferior position on Blackbeard’s craft, putting one Richards, a bad egg but a good sailor, in Bonnet’s place. This was a collar that galled the neck of Bonnet.