Sea Stories - Captain Kidd

If you are lucky enough to be in sunny (yes...sunny!) Greenock today, pop along to The Tall Ships, where you have two opportunities to see the Captain Kidd musical "Tall Ships Tales", as performed by Inverclyde Schools. It's on the main stage (Bogston end) at 12, then the arena stage (McDonalds end) at 7. Full programme for the days events can be found here.

Kidd's been causing controversy again this week, with grumpy Dundee getting all upset because the new Kidd exhibition in London describes him as being from Greenock. Unlucky Dundee! I'm going to be visiting the Kidd exhibition when I'm down in London next week and will post up a wee review soon. But its already on a winner in my book.

So, in celebration of all things Tall Ships and Captain Kidd related, here's our first ever Kidd story, written by Ray Mitchell, and published in 1999 at the last Tall Ships...

Captain Kidd's Tale

A good Greenock man, turned to bad deeds for the sake of men who will never swing for them, sits in a gaol and tells a man his tale. Who tells another man. Who tells another man...

The Barman

Haven’t seen a night like this in all my life, and Old John’s seen a few nights, I can tell you. Ask anyone; they’ll tell you. Been here longer than most of these old sots can remember, wash my mouth out with soap and water.

Never been emptier than tonight; I can usually rely on Tom and Puckle in the corner putting paid to the problems of the world over a pint of ale, but this storm has even made those two share their drinks and stories at home over a fire. Pity; I like a bit of company in the evenings, but never mind. The weather will clear tomorrow, I’m sure, and then all of the empty chairs tonight will be filled with people who’ll remember how much they like a drink.

Still, never bother; five more minutes and then even I might just get tired of waiting and head off to my warm bed.

Oh-ho; what’s this though? I might think it was a drowned cat out of the rain for a bowl of warm milk and a heat if it weren’t standing on its own two legs. The man staggers in, a quick timely flash of lightning outside illuminating his haggard face for a brief second, and I take a step backward, this old barkeep who’s seen a few sights (ask anyone; they’ll tell you) shocked in his shoes by a rain-soaked traveller.

The man turns toward me slowly, and he must see by my face that I think him a ghost or demon sent by the storm to take my life (or, worse, my pub) because he smiles, his face suddenly like a skull. He slams down on the bar a knapsack that looks as if it’s been on his back three times round the world, and he sits down heavily.

“What have you in those bottles for a man who’s just seen his cousin hanged twice?”

Well, I don’t shock easy, but this makes me pause just a moment, before I draw down a bottle of whisky that hasn’t been drained in a goodly while (the dust on the cork must be twelve year old), and I set it down with two glasses. It surely doesn’t look like this poor creature can afford such fine malt, but he surely looks like he needs it, and now that I’ve seen his hunted face, I surely do too. I pour the amber liquid into the glasses and I say the thing I must have said every night for most of my long life to some weary soul or another.

“Why don’t you tell Old John about it.”

The Traveller

My story is like most others; it ends in horror and heartache, and leaves the listener with more questions than answers. But I will tell you anyway. Perhaps if I tell someone this gnawing feeling at my very gut will move on and leave me in peace.

I have just this day returned from London, where I had travelled off my own back to visit my cousin on the night before his slaughter. Now you might not think this any particular thing, for in these days many men hang for their crimes, but if I tell you that this crime was piracy and treason, and this man William Kidd, then perhaps you begin to take shape of my story in your head, barkeep.

Another drink? Yes. I think so. I think so.

William was blind drunk already by the time they let me see him on a warm evening at the gaol. His only requests to his captors were for more drink, and he shouted cursewords at all and sundry, even for a short while mistaking me for an English guard.

When by and by William had calmed down he began to tell me his tale, a story filled with bitterness and recriminations, the story of a man betrayed and humiliated, of turncoats and bloodshed. It was a tale that in other circumstances I might have paid a penny to sit and listen to in an alehouse, if it did not concern my own flesh and blood.

The Pirate

Are you really there, cousin? I cannot see you. I drink and drink to close my eyes so they will not see the eyes of the man who nooses my neck on the morrow. I hope it works.

I am sorry that I have not been home for many a year now; New York has been my home out of necessity, and I ofttimes yearn for Greenock’s waters and her folks. But now it is too late. Never to look into my family’s eyes again. Never.

You there! Bring me some more of this! And some for my guest! Quick about it now. Has your master not told you to obey the whims of the dying man?

It saddens me to think that these sheeplike oafs will be the last people I clap eyes on afore I go on. Yes, cousin. You are here too. I thank you. You are most kind.

We have not much time now. I have to pass on the tale of my betrayal to a friendly soul. I will tell you some things, and then I will give you something, and then you must go, cousin. Do not stay to watch me dance the hempen jig. I beseech you. But stay now, if you are not of hard heart, and listen to the things I must impart.

I never set out in life to be the blackguard and thief they paint me to be. I was appointed by Richard Coote, Earl of Bellamont, to protect the British Isles from pirates, but curse me, I was taken in by the romance of the high seas, cousin. I decided once I had seen the wealth available from looting these ships off the East coast of the dark continent that this was to be the life for me. God would forgive me. He has surely forgiven worse.

But that is not the darkest part of my tale, cousin. Surely not. The King himself gave me leave to raid French ships as they were enemies of Britain, and even a licence to this regard. A licence, if you cen believe that! But nonetheless. I am never a man to look a gift cow in the mouth, and so with this happy arrangement set up, and with several benefactors, chief among them Lord Bellamont, supporting me in my endeavours in exchange for a small share of the loot, things were right sweet for a good while.

For a while, that is, until the Adventure Galley. God, but I never hope to sail in such a tub again! Such a rotten pile of timbers I’ve never captained, and the crew were worse. Picked up in New York  by a lazy first mate (for a pint of ale each, I reckon), they began to plot against me from the start. I even had to kill one o’ them to teach them a lesson. Never meant to kill him, but the man, Gunner Moore they called him, came at me with a chisel. Picked up a bucket and brained him right there. Never meant to kill him. And they call me a murderer for that.

Cousin, here I am getting off the point again. Suffice to say things rocked along roughly for a little while; lootings were thin on the ground and poor food stores had the men sick as dogs and angry as bears. When eventually we raided two goodly rich French ships, the crew were so near the end of their tether they took more than their share of the treasure and deboarded in New York never to be seen again.

Well! Here was I in a good pickle. I had to tell Lord Bellamont that I had no doubloons for him; I span him my hard luck story, and he was not right happy, but that was that. And the next thing I know, there’s a bloody warrant out for my arrest! ‘Piracy and Murder’, they say! Why if the King himself doesn’t know I’m a pirate! If he doesn’t himself condone a little murdering in the name of patriotism! It fair makes you sick.

All sorts of lies they spread about me. Lord Bellamont himself said that I took all the loot for myself (which was NOT from French ships, but stolen from the slit pockets of innocent murdered men, so he says), and murdered my crew! Cousin! I see from your wide eyes you feel the same as me on this matter, do you not? Do you not?

I was fair doomed from there. The judge would not let me appoint a lawyer to defend me, and so I took it to task myself. I found two good crewmen who would speak of my fair name, but they changed their stories and stabbed me in the back (spurred on by the dirty money of Bellamont, I dare say, cousin). Each lie blackening my reputation as a gentleman pirate brought me a step closer to the gallows, with nothing I could do to slow my pace.

And here we are, cousin. Tomorrow I die. Three words which strike fear in my very soul, unable to bear were it not for the good gallon of ale in my belly. It is late now, cousin, and they say you must go soon. But I told you I was going to give you a gift, and I shall.

Lord Bellamont is fair clever, but never more so than a good Greenock man can be, eh, cousin? For before I returned to Boston to my expected arrest, I buried the remaining Adventure Galley treasure. I offered it to Bellamont in exchange for my freedom, but the scoundrel would not accept. So now I give this to you to return to my wife, cousin. Let her die a rich fat lady instead of a hungry waif. Let me do this one thing before I meet my unrighteous end. Say you will.

Say you will.

The Traveller

And so I watched my cousin, William Kidd, a good man of Greenock born, hanged by the neck, against his very wishes. I simply could not leave without seeing it. I cannot explain why.

They had to hang him twice, did you know that? The rope snapped - an act of God, for Christ’s sake - but they simply strung him up again, a man unable even to stand, and killed him for their rich masters. It sickens me.

What’s that you say? The gift? Aah, there’s the thing, Old John. I cannot tell you, good sir, as much as I appreciate your kindly ear and sweet whisky. That must go to William’s wife this very night, or my life be as worthless as his. Speaking of which, I must away, for I hear the wind die down, and miles are before me on this night. Good night to you.

The Barman

There he goes, my weary traveller, and not one word of his tale did I believe, I’ll tell you that for a tanner. I’ve heard true and I’ve heard false, has Old John. Ask anyone; they’ll tell you.

Oh-ho though; what’s this? Must have fallen out of the fellow’s bag as he left. Crumpled and torn and been in the water; but a map’s a map for a’that, so they might say. And is that the word .... Hispaniola? No; impossible. A joke is what this is. And still...the traveller might still be outside; the wind is not low enough for him to have gotten far. I might give it back to him.

I might.

 

Tall Ships Tales

Captain Kidd's Treasure Map by Highlanders Academy

Today, I was lucky enough to get a chance to be at the World Premiere of a new musical...Tall Ships Tales. Over 1000 Primary 5 pupils across Inverclyde have been involved in producing and performing the musical...and it stars Captain Kidd!

Greenock Town Hall was transformed into a ship for the performance, decorated with pirate artwork and paintings, again all provided by Inverclyde schools.

Musician and performer Alan Beck wrote the musical and also played a refreshingly Greenockian Kidd, something we rarely get to see. Musically there was something for everyone from caribbean rhythms through to russian folk tunes. All the schools performed brilliantly.

Next month, as part of the Tall Ships races event, Tall Ships Tales will be performed again in the historic Sugar Sheds. It's a must see. So great to see local heritage being celebrated by local schools in such an involving and upbeat way.

Tall Ships Tales was supported by Inverclyde Council and Youth Music Initiative Scotland. The project has a facebook page and you can head over there for some audio clips and more info and images.

Amazingly however, this is not the first time Kidd's life has inspired a musical. However, it is the only time that musical has been any good. At Tales of the Oak, we believe in promoting all sorts of cultural appreciation, so once you've listened to excerpts from Tall Ships Tales, have a listen to this aria from the great unfinished Captain Kidd opera. No really.

Captain Kidd and the Legend of the Maltese Gold

Part three of an exciting adventure at sea featuring the dastardly pirate Captain Kidd.

Having secured a privateers pass and come into possession of a most interesting map, Kidd has dropped anchor at the pirate haven of St Mary’s Island in Madagascar looking for a crew. 

And where better to start than his old haunt The Burnt Oak…

“Billy!”

Kidd turned to see the grinning face of John Hoar. He sat at a table in the far corner of the room.

“Are ye not going to clap me in irons?” he laughed, holding his arms out towards Kidd.

“My pistols are on the table Billy. I’m easy money.”

The congregation of gathered drunkards continued singing and fighting, pretending not to listen to the exchange. Kidd walked over to the table.

“Aye. Too easy. You’ve nae need for yer pistols wi Dirk Chivers waitin’ tae see me aff.”

Hoar laughed.

“Join me for a drink Billy. It’s good grog at the Burnt Oak. And it’s on me and old Shivers. We’ve had a good few months.”

Dirk Chivers stepped out from the dark, smiling, but with his guns still drawn.

“Really?” said Kidd “I heard you were damn near scuttled in Calcutta.”

For the first time, Hoar’s grin faltered.

“A spot of bad luck there right enough. We’re here with the Soldado for repairs.”

Chivers passed a bottle to Kidd.

“Joking aside Billy, we’d heard you were sailing under Royal Decree, that you’d traded booty for bounty and were going to be arresting your fellows.”

Kidd glanced around the bar; he could just overhear the usual muttered promises of good fortune, settling of old scores, but more than that, he could see a roomful of well armed villains and all of them were paying him too much attention.

There was John Cornelius, Redpath, Pew, even Vallo, all glaring and agitated.

Hoar looked around and smiled once more.

“Why we’d heard you were out looking for Every and Tew.”

“Aye? And why would ah be out at sea looking for deid men?”

“Maybe they weren’t dead til ye found them Billy. The bounty’s paid either way.  It’s a bold man turns his coat and then drops anchor at St Mary’s.”

“Naw.” Said Kidd “It’s an eejit. Look John. Ahm no here fur trouble, but if ye start it I’ll happily finish it.”

“Now now Billy. Don’t let that temper of yours get the better of you again.”

Kidd decided to seize control of the situation. He jumped onto the table and turned to face the room. Every eye was suddenly on him. And most of the guns were too.

“I’m sailing as a Privateer, like you John Hoar, or you Singleton. I’ve nae wish tae run anyone in. What ah do huv is a ship in need of crewmen. Any and all are welcome, we sail for the Red Sea. No purchase. No pay.”

While this outburst had clearly got the pirate horde interested, Kidd realised he was going to have to do more to convince them.

“I’ve heard tell of an island, but two weeks from here, and it’s there, that near 150 years ago La Valette, grandmaster corsair, Knight of Malta built his own wee church. And as he was a very noble and reverential man he decked it all out in the gold and muslim cloth he’d looted in the name of the Lord. Gentlemen, they say damned souls such as ourselves should seek forgiveness. And where better to find it than a Church? Booty in equal shares men. And the grog’s on me! We sail!”

Three days later, Kidd and the Adventure Galley were back at sea with a full crew and ships articles signed and sworn. It was late evening and the seniors had gathered in Kidd’s quarters to hear more of their prize and the Knights of Malta.

“Now the Knights don’t consider themselves tae be pirates as such. Naw, that’s beneath men as holy as themselves. So when they’re raidin’ ships and lootin’ galleys, its for the good of the order and their ongoing defence of Malta and Tripoli. They’re nuthin’ but Corsairs paradin’ crosses. And whit’s worse lads, there’s nae dividin’ up o’ the booty, it aw goes right back tae the order. And any Captain tryin’ tae keep his spoils is slaughtered withoot a thought.”

The crew were clearly unhappy with this undemocratic system of loot distribution. 

“What about this Valette?” asked McPhee “How did he end up with so much booty?”

“Well, La Valette wis a nobleman by descent and became part o’ the secret order o’ Knights Hospitaller in 1515. He defended Rhode frae the Ottoman and was one the legendary raiders of the Barbary Coast. He fought his way tae the top o’ the order tae become the Grand Master Then, he encouraged the rest o’ his Knights tae strike out wi’ their own ships, allowing for a more…profitable system of shares fur the knights and the order.”

“So there was plenty more for him then eh?” laughed McPhee.

“Oh aye. For him, and for his second in command, Brother Romegas, the greatest seaman o’ the Knights o’ Malta. Any ship he didnae capture, he sank. The two were heroes of the Siege o’ Malta – Romegas at sea, La Valette on land. After the siege, the two turned back tae piracy, Valette directin’ frae a discreet distance, and Romegas pillagin’ the Barbary coast wi’ a vengeance. They kept their loot secret frae the Pope and built their ain wee place o’ worship. And that’s just where we’re headed now boys.”

“A church made of gold! Praise the lord!” said Mitchell.

“Now the church is treasure enough in itself. Ahm interested in somethin’ else. There’s a paintin’ in there – an ordinary lookin’ picture of a Templar knight. It’ll be hidden. There’s an extra share fur any man finds this fur me. There’s only one problem. These waters are still sailed by the Knights. And I’d be surprised if La Vallette’s wee church isnae guarded.” 

Good winds and calm waters saw The Adventure within sight of the island in ten days. Almost immediately, a cry went up from the nest.

“Maltese Cross! A galley off port!”

“It’s the Knights!” cried Kidd “Gunner Moore, ready the cannon. McPhee keep us right of land. There’ll be nae quarter given. We need to hope we can outsail them boys. Get those oarsmen earning their keep”

The Adventure was too big a vessel to be as quick as was needed and in no time, the maltese ship was bearing down.

“We’ll never outgun them Cap’n.” cried McPhee.

“Hopefully we won’t need tae.” Said Kidd “Gunner Moore, on my mark. Collins, McGinley, Flynn be ready at the yard arm with torches. We’re gonnae huvtae board.”

The maltese cannons were already firing as the two craft drew nearer.

“Are ye ready Mr McPhee? Hard tae port on my mark.” Said Kidd “Now!”

The Adventure swung hard, sixteen cannon blasting as she turned. Kidd and his men swung too, spinning wildly above the deck of the maltese galley and torching the sails and deck as they flew. The cannon fired again, splintering the hull of the enemy ship. There was an exploson as the gunpowder stores of the maltese galley were consumed by the fire, and the vessel cracked in two. A cheer went up from the crew as the burning mast sank beneath the waves.

“Let’s naw get too chirpy. There’ll be mair tae follow.” Said Kidd “We’ll take a boat tae the island, anchor the Adventure aff the north east coast, that should keep it frae view. Signal flags and cannon if there’s any approach from the Maltese while we’re ashore. Move!”

Five men had accompanied Kidd to shore; Miller, Grieve, Douglas, Mitchell and young Jack.

“Where to Captain?” asked Miller.

Kidd glanced once more at the worn cloth map.

“The church is set in a valley on the west side of the island. We can only get tae the valley through Romegas Cave, there.”

The cave was set midway up a mountain, directly ahead.

“The cave skirts round the outside o the mountain and spirals down tae the valley on the other side. And that’s why we brought aw that rope boys. We’re in fur a climb. Jack you’re a fit lad, so you’re up first wi the rope fur the rest of us.”

Jack scuttled ahead and began the ascent to Romegas Cave.

“Ah’ll be wantin’ two of ye to stay here on point ready fur us tae leave in a hurry. Douglas and Grieve you’re it. Miller and Mitchell follow me up tae the cave.”

Jack had secured and lowered the ropes, but was not answering to the calls of his crewmen. Kidd hauled himself up onto the ledge by the cave entrance. There was no sign of him. Kidd turned to look down at his fellows.

“Get a move on boys. We’re a cabin lad shy and have a feelin’ he’s naw jist nipped aff fur a snooze.”

Kidd stared into the cave and listened intently for any sounds of life. Nothing. Nor was there any sign of a struggle at the cave mouth.

Mitchell and Miller finally heaved themselves onto the ridge.

“No sign Cap’n?”

“None. Mitchell you’re at port, Miller starboard. Keep yer guns drawn and yer wits aboot ye.”

Torches lit, the three pirates began their descent into Romegas Cave.

“Jack!” called Mitchell “Jack you there?”

“Whit in blazes do ye think yer daein?” hissed Kidd.

“Calling out for wee Jack in case someone has him.”

“Aye. And dae ye want them tae get us too? Shut yer mooth and keep movin’.”

“But Jack…”

“Nice wee lad. Awful shame. We’ll buy a new cabin boy back at St Marys. We’ll call him Jack. Now move.”

Kidd prodded Mitchell with his pistol and they clambered further into the cave.

A sudden wind extinguished two of the torches, forcing the three to edge forward more slowly.

“There’s a pit here Cap’n. Quite a drop.”

Kidd stared down into the dimly lit chasm.

“That’s a lot of bones down there. Okay Miller, rope.”

Miller unravelled the rope and threw one end to Mitchell who tried tossing it across the pit. It failed to penetrate the darkness and tumbled down towards the bones below.

There was a distant whistling sound, it echoed eerily through the caverns empty spaces, gradually increasing in volume, becoming more distinct; a wail, a cry of pain which built to an unbearable howl. 

With it came a wind which whipped around the pirates almost seeming to be pushing them to the ground. Kidd gripped the cave edges and held on as Miller and Mitchell tried to run. The wind swept the dirt and rubble of the cave up into the air, and slowly Kidd began to perceive shapes in the darkness; knights, unearthly knights. 

Miller and Mitchell must have seen them too, and tried all the harder to reach the cave mouth, but the knights had the wind on their side. The two men struggled and screamed as they were dragged over the edge of the pit by the strange howling shapes. Kidd steadied himself against the wall and took a swig of rum. 

“Spirits now is it?” 

Suddenly, there was the unmistakeable thud of distant cannon fire. The Adventure was signalling. Kidd edged slowly back to the cave entrance and peered back down to shore, sure enough there were ten boats coming ashore, each filled with angry maltese pirates. Douglas and Grieve were already clambering up the rope towards him.

There was another, much louder thud, the cave shuddered and shook with the impact. 

“They cannae have cannon wi this sort of range!” cried Kidd.

The cave shook again, rubble crumbling from the stone walls. Grieve hauled himself up onto the ridge, gasping.

 “Capn, there’s smoke and ash blowing right out the top of this mountain!” he cried “We’re sittin inside a volcano!”

“Aye.” Said Kidd “That’d be aboot right.”

Our corsairs corralled in cursed caves! Trapped by trembling volcanoes! Grabbed by old ghosts! How will Kidd and his cronies escape this latest catastrophe! Don’t miss the next exciting instalment of “Captain Kidd and the Legend of the Maltese Gold” 

This story was originally published in our 2006 book downriver, which was published with the support of heritage lottery fund. A number of our publications are available free online including our Captain Kidd Man and Myth Booklet on Scribd, along with another we published about Port Glasgow's connections to the Slave Trade.

Pirate Ships and Drowning Horses

Today, on the 310th anniversary of Kidd's execution and with the compass pointing south, we set sail for merry London where from this week you can enjoy "Pirates : The Captain Kidd Story" an interactive exhibition at the Museum of London at the Docklands. Looks great.





As part of the promo for the exhibition, you can follow Kidd on Twitter, to get excerpts from his not at all incriminating logbooks and snare yourself some pirate related money off vouchers.

As a double whammy...if you are down in London enjoying the Kidd exhibition, you might want to pop over to The Science Museum to the new James Watt and Our World exhibition.

Captain Kidd and James Watt...two of Greenock's most famous sons, hitting the big time down in the big smoke. Y'know...heres a thought...HOW ABOUT CELEBRATING SOME OF OUR HOMEGROWN HEROES BACK HERE IN GREENOCK SOMETIMES!!! Dedicated exhibition, maybe even a sculpture? No...I know...lets build a statue of a dead horse instead.

I know what you're thinking...hang on…why would we want a statue of a murderer and a rogue?

Well…maybe he was unfairly tried…maybe he wasn’t guilty at all…maybe he is symbolic of a misunderstood town like Greenock. And maybe it has just slightly more glamour and history to it than say…a statue of a horse that fell off a dock and drowned, which symbolises…ehm…better health and safety practices for horses?  “Greenock – Flogging A Dead Horse for over 500 years”?

"Ah" you say "But there's now doubt over whether or not Kidd actually came from Greenock, most folk now think he came from Dundee." Yep. And? Folklore and local tradition tell us he came from here...no one is a 100% sure that there's a big Plesiousaur swimming about Loch Ness but that doesn't plenty of people talking about it and going up to have a wee look. Have a bit of fun. Just go with it.

 

Besides, it’s not a statue of the historical character people would want to see…have you seen the real life Kidd? That’s him at the top of the post….not much of a looker. No…better to have a full on swashbuckling, swinging from the rigging pirate…the fictional Kidd, the folk hero Kidd…Kidd the legend.

There are plenty of examples of statues of fictional characters all over the UK, each a miniature tourist draw in their own right. There's the Captain Mainwaring statue in Thetford, Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, Robin Hood in Nottingham, or my personal favourite HG Wells Martian Fighting Machine from War of the Worlds in Woking. And frankly, your life is incomplete unless you have been to The Dracula Experience in Whitby.

Yes, you’re right…there’s better things to campaign for, there’s more important things to spend money on…but in future…when we consider public artworks, when we consider keeping American tourists in the town for even a half hour longer than they might stay right now, when we want to celebrate something about our heritage which is unique and..get this…internationally recognised…how about we get behind a local hero…Captain Kidd.

Sorry. Rant over, let's all calm down by listening to this spooky pirate lullaby from The Cure's Robert Smith.

Captain Kidd - Saturday Morning Serial

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and also, presumably, really hot cobblestones.

It had been my intention to "hilariously" redub this full serial from 1953, and yknow...maybe next year, thats just what will happen. I'm sure it will be good.

The 15 part story is actually pretty good, being one of the few Kidd stories to address the nature of his unfair reputation. In 1697, agents Richard Dale and Alan Duncan are sent on an undercover mission by the British Fleet to find and gather information on the notorious pirate, Captain William Kidd. Dale and Duncan soon join Kidd's crew and discover, to their surprise, that the Captain is far different than they had expected.


This is episode 9 "Pirate Against Pirate"...don't worry...it's not very hard to pick up whats happening and theres more swordfights in this episode...

Ola Captain Kidd!

It's Captain Kidd month ALL May on Tales of The Oak...help us celebrate the 310th anniversary of his execution  on May 23rd, with all manner of Kidd malarkey including film, classic stories, comedy, music, documentary, drama and song. Yes...there's really that much stuff.

If you don't know who Captain Kidd is, or his unfortunate story, have a quick read of one of our earliest posts...Captain Kidd - Greenock Folk Hero.

Lets get the obvious bit out the way first...do we actually believe Captain Kidd comes from Greenock?
Honestly? It's not important. Did Dracula really visit Whitby? Did Robin Hood live in Sherwood Forest?
We're folklorists, and folklore and tradition tell us Kidd was from Greenock, from being mentioned in the famous ballad, to having a local descendant living here til very recently, Greenock is most definetly linked with Kidd...we just don't really care. This month, we'll try and change your mind...

First up, from the Downriver CD, a classy recording of The Ballad of Captain Kidd by Graeme McLeod, which nicely captures the resigned good humour of a Greenock man on his way to hang...

The Ballad of Captain Kidd

My name was William Kidd;

God's laws I did forbid,

And so wickedly I did,

When I sailed. 

My parents taught me well,

To shun the gates of hell,

But against them I rebelled,

When I sailed. 

I spied three ships from Spain,

I looted them for gain,

Till most of them were slain,

As I sailed. 

I'd ninety bars of gold,

And dollars manifold,

With riches uncontrolled,

As I sailed. 

Thus being o'ertaken at last,

And into prison cast,

And sentence being passed,

As I sailed.

My repentance lasted not,

My vows I soon forgot,

Damnation was my lot,

As I sailed,

Here lies William Kidd, 

A hero from Greenock town

In spite of all the things he did

He never let us down

Here Lies William Kidd

Come all ye young and old,,

You're welcome to my gold,

For by it I've lost my soul,

And must die. 

Take a warning now by me,

And shun bad company,

Let you come to hell with me,

For I must die.