Newport Pirate Charles Gibbs: 10 Stories We Never

Knew
newenglandhistoricalsociety.com/newport-pirate-charles-gibbs-10-stories-we-never-knew/

8/9/2013

Newport pirate Charles Gibbs, hanged in 1831 in New York, was undoubtedly a nasty piece
of work. As some historians pointed out, he was the last pirate in New York who didn’t make
his living on Wall Street.

He was born James D. Jeffers in Newport, R.I., in 1798, the son of a sea captain who
distinguished himself as a privateer in the Revolutionary War. A privateer, of course, is a
sort of pirate with a government license. James Jeffers, aka Charles Gibbs, had no such
license.

Pirate Charles Gibbs

As the son of a well-to-do family, it’s a bit of a mystery why he became a pirate. For
whatever reason, he began his life as a sailor around 1816. Sometime between then and
1820, he slipped into piracy.

Charles Gibbs didn't gain notoriety as a significant pirate during his sailing days, which
lasted roughly from 1816 through 1830.

Only after his conviction for murder and piracy did Gibbs’ amazing tale began spilling forth.
A short, stout man with a fondness for alcohol and women, he never stood out as much of a
success at anything.

But during his trial and confessions, Charles Gibbs told an epic tale. He had, between 1820
and 1830, cut a swath through the seas from Latin America to the West Indies and Europe,
leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Charles Gibbs claimed to have raided dozens of ships, usually butchering the crew and
passengers and burning the vessels after he robbed them. He had killed as many as 400
people, he reckoned, with some rape and assorted other crimes thrown in for good
measure.

Buried Treasure
According to the trial transcript, in November 1830, Charles Gibbs signed on as crew on the
brig The Vineyard, in New Orleans. The ship had nine men aboard, including captain and
mate, on its voyage to Philadelphia.

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Along the way, the seven-man crew plotted to kill the captain and first mate. They intended
to steal a stash of money, in the form of Mexican coins, from the ship’s cargo. On the night
of November 23, they clubbed the captain and mate and tossed them into the ocean just
north of Cape Hatteras.

From that point, the crime turned into farce, or an ill-scripted set of lies.

The mutineers continued sailing northeast for another day and a half, holding course for
Long Island. They planned to split up, with three going north to Block Island and four to Long
Island and New York City. The crew had trouble managing the vessel, however, and they
hastily scuttled it off the coast of Long Island by plunging an axe through its hull.

Immediately their two escape boats – a longboat and a jollyboat — began taking on water.
The three men on the jollyboat drowned when their boat sank -- at least according to the
mutineers. The four men in the longboat jettisoned some of the coins and made it to shore
on Pelican Island.

There, and on nearby islands, they buried parts of their treasure.

Turncoat
According to the official version, one of the surviving pirates, John Brownrigg, encountered a
stranger. Brownrigg told him his companions had committed murder. Soon all four found
themselves in custody.

But what really happened? Did the three pirates in the jollyboat drown, or did the others kill
them? Was all the treasure really left buried, or did the turncoat Brownrigg make a deal with
the stranger? Could he have asked the stranger to help him in return for part of the
treasure?

Any certainty about what happened was lost from the start. But soon Charles Gibbs would
establish his place in history.

Publishers gobbled up his story with glee, reprinting it, replete with his admonitions to the
youth of the day not to follow in his footsteps. There is little doubt that Gibbs was a pirate.
And there’s equally little doubt that he committed some of the crimes he claimed. But most
suspect he padded his resume dramatically to make himself into a gangster legend.

In going over that legend, we came across 10 interesting items we didn’t know about
Charles Gibbs/James Jeffers:

1. Family Thought Him Dead

James Jeffers famously changed his name to Charles Gibbs to avoid tarnishing the family’s
reputation. But he also ensured they wouldn't look for him by convincing them he died.
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Shortly after he left his family, he penned a letter to his sisters. In what amounts to an 1820s
version of Internet trolling, he claimed to be a shipmate of their brother and told them their
brother died of fever in the West Indies.

Newporters found out Charles Gibbs was James Jeffers when he summoned a Rev. Mr.
Jones from Newport to his jail cell. His reason: to inquire about the well-being of his family.

2. Racism Defense
Thomas Wansley, executed with Gibbs, claimed racism in his defense.

There were a few black pirates in 1830. Thomas Wansley was one of them, but not
necessarily by design.

Before the trial, it wasn't clear which of the three other surviving pirates would be charged.
Robert Dawes got off the hook because of his youth. So did John Brownrigg, because he
agreed to testify.

Meanwhile prosecutors indicted Wansley. He replied with an eloquent plea to the court. He
pointed out that, as cook on the ship he had not started out with an eye toward piracy. When
presented with the plan, he had only grim choices. . If he failed to go along with the mutiny,
he feared Charles Gibbs and the others would kill him. If he did go along, he feared the
court would kill him because white judges tended not to show much mercy to black
criminals. The judge proved his fears correct and sentenced him to hang.

3. What Might Have Been

Had Joseph Lockwood served on the jury, Charles Gibbs would quite likely have been
cleared. Lockwood was selected from 30 citizens to serve as a juror. He declared he
opposed capital punishment. He said that in a capital case, he would give great weight to
any evidence that supported the charged man’s innocence. Prosecutors preempted him
from serving on the jury.

4. Dead Men Tell No Tales

In confessing, Charles Gibbs explained why he chose to kill so many people: The penalties
for murder and piracy were the same. When confronted with the choice of killing witnesses
to a crime or letting them live, the choice was easy because 'dead men tell no tales.' Less
severe penalties for property crimes, he said, would give criminals incentive to not murder
so many people. During the capital punishment debates of the era, people cited Charles
Gibbs' arguments.

5. Stephen Girard
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Of the $54,000 stolen, the pirates managed to
keep only a few thousand dollars. But who
wanted to ship all that money to Philadelphia in
the first place? Perhaps not surprisingly, the
money belonged to the wealthiest man in
America, Stephen Girard. The philanthropist still
has a reputation in Philadelphia and New Orleans
for his generosity to those cities. In fact, America
itself owes him a huge debt as he singlehandedly
financed the end of the War of 1812.

Not surprisingly, Girard doesn’t figure prominently

in the trial of Gibbs. Exactly one month after the
pirates stole his money, a carriage ran him down
in the streets of Philadelphia. He died a year later.
No one seems to know why he was shipping Stephen Girard
Mexican silver currency to Philadelphia in
unmarked kegs.

6. Honor Among Thieves

Dawes, in his testimony, said that two of the pirates attempted to intimidate him into selling
his share of the Mexican silver for $1,000. He accepted the deal, but Charles Gibbs
intervened when he learned of it. He insisted the young man receive his full share.

7. Charles Gibbs, America’s 1st Gangsta-artist

Charles Gibbs wrote a song about his experiences long before Biggie and Tupac drew on
their criminal pasts to fuel their careers. He reportedly sang it before his execution. Sung to
the tune of a chantey called The Rocks of Scilly, it is excerpted from the Gibbs family
history. Of course, Charles Gibbs, being James Jeffers, didn't belong to the Gibbs family
history.

8. Charles Gibbs, Grocer

Charles Gibbs worked as a grocer before turning
pirate. Some versions of his story hold that he
started a grocery store in Boston near the infamous
Tin Pot dive bar on Ann Street.

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In some tellings, he used his loot from his early
days as a pirate to stake his business. According to
others, he used a bequest from an uncle to fund the
venture. In all versions, he flopped at the business,
mainly because he loved to drink and whore more
than he liked working. That's easy enough to
believe given all we do know about his character.

Ann Steet, Boston, 1881

9. Pirates of the Caribbean

Charles Gibbs' quest for fame finally paid off. His likeness is on display at Disneyland’s
Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Regardless of the historical inaccuracy of his tales, visitors
can look at a cartoon of Gibbs while waiting to board Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean
ride.

10. Silver Coins Don't Stay Buried

While authorities never officially recovered the treasure Charles Gibbs stole from the
Vineyard, a good portion of it likely ended up in the hands of Long Islanders. News
accounts in the 1840s tell how coins surfaced on the beaches of Pelican Island, leading to
wild treasure hunts.

In one case, the Long Island Democrat reported a Mr. Smith happened on a cache of the
treasure on Barren Island. He returned home and went back to the island the next day to
recover the rest. His mistake: He told his wife.

“The news was too good to keep,” the newspaper reported. “The next day there was a
general stampede for the pirate’s treasure.” Details of where the money went after that are
scarce. Dead men aren’t the only ones who tell no tales.

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Illustration of the mutiny on the Vineyard from The Pirate's Own Book.

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