There is an old saying that “Peace makes pirates.” The lawless scamps--“sweepings of Hell and Hackney”--who manned the privateers were especially prone to go a-pirateering in times of peace. They could not or would not settle down to steady work and small pay or be bound by laws and conventions. They loved roving and loot too well. Better to hang a sun-drying than to live with “a southerly wind in the shot locker.” It was but a step, after all, and that a short one, if half be true that has been written of privateers by men of regular navies. But perhaps they were a little prejudiced. Many rich prizes were taken by the private ships of war, often robbing the regulars of the chance of filling their pockets. Those who manned the King’s ships, like all others that used the seas, suffered from loot hunger and to satisfy the same would often sail very close to the wind, so close, in fact, that several of the King’s captains were caught flat aback and made a stern board towards the rocks. Some cleared by discharging their golden ballast, others, by the wind of influence. Coasters and fishermen were not so apt to turn pirates. Their work was hard and risky; but fresh food, “full and plenty,” and shore influence kept them steady. They were not as a rule of such an adventurous type as deep-water seamen. Occasionally, however, some lusty young fisherman or coaster would go a-roving. Perhaps some maid had been unkind or too kind. Some sailed under the “Jolly Roger” because they thought that he who dared, toiled and ventured, deserved as great a percentage of the profits as he who sat at home in personal safety and comfort and handled the pen. It was their only chance of getting even with the merchants and that chance a good one. Governments had little to spend on pirate chasing; besides, who could better stand a little cash-letting than the money-fat merchants. But well as they might have been able to stand it they roared so during the operation that governments were forced at last, Acts of Grace having failed, to send men-of-war to cruise against “the gentlemen of fortune following the sea.” They effected little. After one pirate-hunting squadron had returned unsuccessful, sailors’ yarns floated around that told of the commodore’s ship springing a leak out Madagascar way, and of great store of powder, shot and rum being landed to lighten her. The leak stopped as suddenly as it began and when the boats’ crews landed to bring off the powder, shot and rum, all had disappeared. The yarns went on to tell that when the commodore was taking a walk on shore, he found several small kegs stowed under a palm tree down by the water’s edge, and how heavy they were, and how carefully they were kept in the after cabin of the Commodore’s ship, and that the officers said they had nothing in ’em but honey; but Barney Brown, the boatswain’s mate, swore his Bible oath that he heard the clink of coin when a-rolling them along the deck.