[Quick set-up: The Spanish crown, having long-suffered under the British policy of legally enabling privateers (and turning a blind eye to blatant piracy) against the Spanish Main, finally gives in (a little too late) and creates their own policy of privateering. One of the first to pick up the call was Rivero, an extremely eccentric and little-known historical figure.]
To commemorate his taking up the standard [against the English pirates], he’d written a poem; and he is such a key character in the final chapter of Morgan’s exploits – and such an odd, manic figure – that it is worth quoting it. Appropriately enough, Rivero begins by invoking the pagan muse of tragedy:
Sacred Melpomene, I beseech thee
Who in lugubrious moments grant fate.
I invoke you reverently,
You, in your castalian choir,
One of the nine deities,
So that graciously you may assist me
In the endeavor that I intend.
Diligently I search
Ad honorem, so that I attain
Happy victories.
Rivero was no poet, but he did have the gift of self-promotion. In the poem he tells Melpomene of his recent exploits, attacking the island of Grand Cayman, where “with my great valor I opened fire and destroyed everything around.”
(In fact, he’d burned some fisherman’s huts and taken four children hostage, an adventure that he believed would make “all the villains… tremble / Just upon hearing my name.”)
Source:
Talty, Stephan. “Black Clouds to the East.” Empire of Blue Water: Captain Morgan’s Great Pirate Army, the Epic Battle for the Americas, and the Catastrophe That Ended the Outlaws’ Bloody Reign. New York: Crown Publishing Group (NY), 2007. 184-85. Print.
Further Reading:
It is to that point in history that I can trace my lineage. A forefather of mine made a decent living as a privateer/pirate. Always one for adventure, he retired in the northern colonies and settled in what became Canada. The Bystander clan has occupied the country since.
We don't (often) plunder anymore, though.