The Pirates Own Book (13 page)

Gibbs in his last visit to Boston remained there but a few days, when he
took passage to New Orleans, and there entered as one of the crew on
board the brig Vineyard; and for assisting in the murder of the
unfortunate captain and mate of which, he was justly condemned, and the
awful sentence of death passed upon him! The particulars of the bloody
transaction (agreeable to the testimony of Dawes and Brownrigg, the two
principal witnesses,) are as follows: The brig Vineyard, Capt. William
Thornby, sailed from New Orleans about the 9th of November, for
Philadelphia, with a cargo of 112 bales of cotton, 113 hhds. sugar, 54
casks of molasses and 54,000 dollars in specie. Besides the captain
there were on board the brig, William Roberts, mate, six seamen shipped
at New Orleans, and the cook. Robert Dawes, one of the crew, states on
examination, that when, about five days out, he was told that there was
money on board, Charles Gibbs, E. Church and the steward then determined
to take possession of the brig. They asked James Talbot, another of the
crew, to join them. He said no, as he did not believe there was money in
the vessel. They concluded to kill the captain and mate, and if Talbot
and John Brownrigg would not join them, to kill them also. The next
night they talked of doing it, and got their clubs ready. Dawes dared
not say a word, as they declared they would kill him if he did; as they
did not agree about killing Talbot and Brownrigg, two shipmates, it was
put off. They next concluded to kill the captain and mate on the night
of November 22, but did not get ready; but, on the night of the 23d,
between twelve and one o'clock, as Dawes was at the helm, saw the
steward come up with a light and a knife in his hand; he dropt the light
and seizing the pump break, struck the captain with it over the head
or back of the neck; the captain was sent forward by the blow, and
halloed, oh! and murder! once; he was then seized by Gibbs and the cook,
one by the head and the other by the heels, and thrown overboard. Atwell
and Church stood at the companion way, to strike down the mate when he
should come up. As he came up and enquired what was the matter they
struck him over the head—he ran back into the cabin, and Charles Gibbs
followed him down; but as it was dark, he could not find him—Gibbs came
on deck for the light, with which he returned. Dawes' light being taken
from him, he could not see to steer, and he in consequence left the
helm, to see what was going on below. Gibbs found the mate and seized
him, while Atwell and Church came down and struck him with a pump break
and a club; he was then dragged upon deck; they called for Dawes to come
to them, and as he came up the mate seized his hand, and gave him a
death gripe! three of them then hove him overboard, but which three
Dawes does not know; the mate when cast overboard was not dead, but
called after them twice while in the water! Dawes says he was so
frightened that he hardly knew what to do. They then requested him to
call Talbot, who was in the forecastle, saying his prayers; he came up
and said it would be his turn next! but they gave him some grog, and
told him not to be afraid, as they would not hurt him; if he was true to
them, he should fare as well as they did. One of those who had been
engaged in the bloody deed got drunk, and another became crazy!

After killing the captain and mate, they set about overhauling the
vessel, and got up one keg of Mexican dollars. They then divided the
captain's clothes, and money—about 40 dollars, and a gold watch. Dawes,
Talbot and Brownrigg, (who were all innocent of the murder,) were
obliged to do as they were commanded—the former, who was placed at the
helm, was ordered to steer for Long Island. On the day following, they
divided several kegs of the specie, amounting to five thousand dollars
each—they made bags and sewed the money up. After this division, they
divided the remainder of the money without counting it. On Sunday, when
about 15 miles S.S.E. of Southampton Light, they got the boats out and
put half the money in each—they then scuttled the vessel and set fire
to it in the cabin, and took to the boats. Gibbs, after the murder, took
charge of the vessel as captain. From the papers they learnt that the
money belonged to Stephen Girard. With the boats they made the land
about daylight. Dawes and his three companions were in the long boat;
the others, with Atwell, were in the jolly boat—on coming to the bar
the boats struck—in the long boat, they threw overboard a trunk of
clothes and a great deal of money, in all about 5000 dollars—the jolly
boat foundered; they saw the boat fill, and heard them cry out, and saw
them clinging to the masts—they went ashore on Barron Island, and
buried the money in the sand, but very lightly. Soon after they met with
a gunner, whom they requested to conduct them where they could get some
refreshments. They were by him conducted to Johnson's (the only man
living on the island,) where they staid all night—Dawes went to bed at
about 10 o'clock—Jack Brownrigg set up with Johnson, and in the morning
told Dawes that he had told Johnson all about the murder. Johnson went
in the morning with the steward for the clothes, which were left on the
top of the place where they buried the money, but does not believe they
took away the money.

The prisoners, (Gibbs and Wansley,) were brought to trial at the
February term of the United States Court, holden in the city of New
York; when the foregoing facts being satisfactorily proved, they were
pronounced guilty, and on the 11th March last, the awful sentence of the
law was passed upon them in the following affecting and impressive
manner:—The Court opened at 11 o'clock, Judge Betts presiding. A few
minutes after that hour, Mr. Hamilton, District Attorney, rose and
said—May it please the Court, Thomas J. Wansley, the prisoner at the
bar, having been tried by a jury of his country, and found guilty of the
murder of Captain Thornby, I now move that the sentence of the Court be
pronounced upon that verdict.

By the Court
. Thomas J. Wansley, you have heard what has been said by
the District Attorney—by the Grand Jury of the South District of New
York, you have been arraigned for the wilful murder of Captain Thornby,
of the brig Vineyard; you have been put upon your trial, and after a
patient and impartial hearing, you have been found Guilty. The public
prosecutor now moves for judgment on that verdict; have you any thing to
say, why the sentence of the law should not be passed upon you?

Thomas J. Wansley
. I will say a few words, but it is perhaps of no
use. I have often understood that there is a great deal of difference in
respect of color, and I have seen it in this Court. Dawes and Brownrigg
were as guilty as I am, and these witnesses have tried to fasten upon me
greater guilt than is just, for their life has been given to them. You
have taken the blacks from their own country, to bring them here to
treat them ill. I have seen this. The witnesses, the jury, and the
prosecuting Attorney consider me more guilty than Dawes, to condemn
me—for otherwise the law must have punished him; he should have had the
same verdict, for he was a perpetrator in the conspiracy.
Notwithstanding my participating, they have sworn falsely for the
purpose of taking my life; they would not even inform the Court, how I
gave information of money being on board; they had the biggest part of
the money, and have sworn falsely. I have said enough. I will say no
more.

By the Court
. The Court will wait patiently and hear all you have to
say; if you have any thing further to add, proceed.

Wansley
then proceeded. In the first place, I was the first to ship on
board the Vineyard at New Orleans, I knew nobody; I saw the money come
on board. The judge that first examined me, did not take my deposition
down correctly. When talking with the crew on board, said the brig was
an old craft, and when we arrived at Philadelphia, we all agreed to
leave her. It was mentioned to me that there was plenty of money on
board. Henry Atwell said "let's have it." I knew no more of this for
some days. Atwell came to me again and asked "what think you of taking
the money." I thought it was a joke, and paid no attention to it. The
next day he said they had determined to take the brig and money, and
that they were the strongest party, and would murder the officers, and
he that informed should suffer with them. I knew Church in Boston, and
in a joke asked him how it was made up in the ship's company; his reply,
that it was he and Dawes. There was no arms on board as was ascertained;
the conspiracy was known to the whole company, and had I informed, my
life would have been taken, and though I knew if I was found out my life
would be taken by law, which is the same thing, so I did not inform. I
have committed murder and I know I must die for it.

By the Court
. If you wish to add any thing further you will still be
heard.

Wansley
. No sir, I believe I have said enough.

The District Attorney rose and moved for judgment on Gibbs, in the same
manner as in the case of Wansley, and the Court having addressed Gibbs,
in similar terms, concluded by asking what he had to say why the
sentence of the law should not now be passed upon him.

Charles Gibbs
said, I wish to state to the Court, how far I am guilty
and how far I am innocent in this transaction. When I left New Orleans,
I was a stranger to all on board, except Dawes and Church. It was off
Tortugas that Atwell first told me there was money on board, and
proposed to me to take possession of the brig. I refused at that time.
The conspiracy was talked of for some days, and at last I agreed that I
would join. Brownrigg, Dawes, Church, and the whole agreed that they
would. A few days after, however, having thought of the affair, I
mentioned to Atwell, what a dreadful thing it was to take a man's life,
and commit piracy, and recommended him to "abolish," their plan. Atwell
and Dawes remonstrated with me; I told Atwell that if ever he would
speak of the subject again, I would break his nose. Had I kept to my
resolution I would not have been brought here to receive my sentence. It
was three days afterwards that the murder was committed. Brownrigg
agreed to call up the captain from the cabin, and this man, (pointing to
Wansley,) agreed to strike the first blow. The captain was struck and I
suppose killed, and I lent a hand to throw him overboard. But for the
murder of the mate, of which I have been found guilty, I am innocent—I
had nothing to do with that. The mate was murdered by Dawes and Church;
that I am innocent of this I commit my soul to that God who will judge
all flesh—who will judge all murderers and false swearers, and the
wicked who deprive the innocent of his right. I have nothing more to
say.

By the Court
. Thomas J. Wansley and Charles Gibbs, the Court has
listened to you patiently and attentively; and although you have said
something in your own behalf, yet the Court has heard nothing to affect
the deepest and most painful duty that he who presides over a public
tribunal has to perform.

You, Thomas J. Wansley, conceive that a different measure of justice has
been meted out to you, because of your color. Look back upon your whole
course of life; think of the laws under which you have lived, and you
will find that to white or black, to free or bond, there is no ground
for your allegations; that they are not supported by truth or justice.
Admit that Brownrigg and Dawes have sworn falsely; admit that Dawes was
concerned with you; admit that Brownrigg is not innocent; admit, in
relation to both, that they are guilty, the whole evidence has proved
beyond a doubt that you are guilty; and your own words admit that you
were an active agent in perpetrating this horrid crime. Two fellow
beings who confided in you, and in their perilous voyage called in your
assistance, yet you, without reason or provocation, have maliciously
taken their lives.

If, peradventure, there was the slightest foundation for a doubt of your
guilt, in the mind of the Court, judgment would be arrested, but there
is none; and it now remains to the Court to pronounce the most painful
duty that devolves upon a civil magistrate. The Court is persuaded of
your guilt; it can form no other opinion. Testimony has been heard
before the Court and Jury—from that we must form our opinion. We must
proceed upon testimony, ascertain facts by evidence of witnesses, on
which we must inquire, judge and determine as to guilt or innocence, by
that evidence alone. You have been found guilty. You now stand for the
last time before an earthly tribunal, and by your own acknowledgments,
the sentence of the law falls just on your heads. When men in ordinary
cases come under the penalty of the law there is generally some
palliative—something to warm the sympathy of the Court and Jury. Men
may be led astray, and under the influence of passion have acted under
some long smothered resentment, suddenly awakened by the force of
circumstances, depriving him of reason, and then they may take the life
of a fellow being. Killing, under that kind of excitement, might
possibly awaken some sympathy, but that was not your case; you had no
provocation. What offence had Thornby or Roberts committed against you?
They entrusted themselves with you, as able and trustworthy citizens;
confiding implicitly in you; no one act of theirs, after a full
examination, appears to have been offensive to you; yet for the purpose
of securing the money you coolly determined to take their lives—you
slept and deliberated over the act; you were tempted on, and yielded;
you entered into the conspiracy, with cool and determined calculation to
deprive two human beings of their lives, and it was done.

You, Charles Gibbs, have said that you are not guilty of the murder of
Roberts; but were you not there, strongly instigating the murderers on,
and without stretching out a hand to save him?—It is murder as much to
stand by and encourage the deed, as to stab with a knife, strike with a
hatchet, or shoot with a pistol. It is not only murder in law, but in
your own feelings and in your own conscience. Notwithstanding all this,
I cannot believe that your feelings are so callous, so wholly callous,
that your own minds do not melt when you look back upon the unprovoked
deeds of yourselves, and those confederated with you.