Pirates
The Last Of The South Seas
Mortelmans Completes His “Penal Servitude for Life”
NOT long ago, there was released from a New South Wales prison an elderly Belgian named Joseph Mor telmans. He probably was the last man to commit an act of deliberate piracy in the South Seas. He was sentenced to penal servitude for life for piracy and murder; but after the lapse of more than twenty years, he was released from prison and, it is believed, returned to Belgium. The story of his remarkable crime is worth re-telling.
THE true facts of the story came to light almost by accident after the schooner, of which Mortel mans had taken possession, had gone ashore at Apemama, in the Gilbert Islands. The pirate’s companion, a youth named Skerritt, managed to give certain information to a responsible person and, as a result, Mortelmans was arrested at Tarawa on a charge of piracy. He was later committed to the Supreme Court of Fiji and taken to Suva for trial.
At the time they were found wrecked on the reef, the pirate gave his name as John Taylor of Manchester, and that of his companion (Skerritt) as George Jackson, of London.
Skerritt, in his evidence at the Suva Court, said that he and Mortelmans had been shipmates in the barque Glenogil, which left South Shields, in March, 1907, bound for San Diego. The vessel sprang a leak and was forced to return to Liverpool. They there left her and together signed the articles of a Peruvian cruiser, which had been just completed for the Peruvian Navy.
Mortelmans was a leading steward, but was soon disrated, because of his in competency, and reduced to the rank of ordinary seaman. Skerritt was messroom steward. In August, 1907, the cruiser arrived at Callao, and they were both paid off. Some time later, they found themselves shipmates in the little coasting schooner, Nueva Tigre.
The Nueva Tigre was a vessel of nearly fifty tons register and sailed under the Peruvian flag. Though she was new, she had had fitted in her the wheel of the Puelche, of Valparaiso, a vessel which had been broken up be fore the Nueva Tigre was built. She was employed in the coastal trade of Peru. Her captain was Nicholas Melis, an Italian who had been a petty officer in the Italian Navy, and the mate was another Italian, named Juan Boster.
In addition to the Italians, two sea men only were employed, and in No vember, 1907, those seamen were Mor telmans and Skerritt.
On November 18, 1907, the schooner sailed from Callao for Pisco with a cargo of sulphate of potassium and coke. She was never seen again in Callao, and Melis and Boster were never seen again alive or dead.
What Happened On The
Nueva Tigre.
Skerritt told the Court that at 11 a.m. on the day after their departure from Callao, the Nueva Tigre was about 14 miles off the coast of Peru.
Mortelmans was at the wheel and the mate was sitting on the deck prepar ing dinner. Skerritt was in the fore castle. and Melis, the captain, had turned in to sleep.
Suddenly, Skerritt was startled by a shriek. He rushed on deck and saw the mate running forward with blood streaming from the back of his head.
Mortelmans was standing near the cabin hatch with a blood-stained chop per in his hand. Skerritt ran aft and saw the captain come up from his cabins As he appeared Mortelmans struck him on the head with the chop per and he fell backwards into the cabin. Mortelmans followed him and sounds of a fierce struggle were heard Then the captain emerged again and ran forward, followed by Mortelmans, who tried to strike him again with the chopper, but did not succeed.
Mortelmans then got a gun from the cabin, loaded it on deck, and told the captain to jump overboard or he would shoot. The captain, seizing the fore hatch. jumped, taking the hatch with him. Mortelmans then tried to shoot him in the water, but the gun was old and rusty and missed fire.
In the meantime the mate had gone up the foremast. He was bleeding freely—the blood dropping on the sail and deck —and he was dazed. Mortel mans turned upon him. He partly ascended the rigging, pointed the gun at him and told him to jump. The mate appealed to him for mercy, but without success. He then attempted to slide down the jibstay. He grew faint, his hold relaxed and he fell into the sea. For a moment or two he struggled in the water, and then disappeared.
Naturally, Skerritt thought that he would be the next victim, but the pir ate considered him too useful.
“The Ship Is Mine.”
“Those two devils have gone. I have worked for it, and the ship is mine,” exclaimed Mortelmans. He then sent Skerritt to clean up the deck and cabin, which were stained with blood.
He later put Skerritt at the wheel while he ransacked the cabin. The ship’s log and papers he threw over board. The effects of his two victims he went through at leisure, throwing overboard what he thought incrimin ating and of no value, and setting
aside the other things. Then, as if no thing had happened, he lay down for his accustomed sleep and woke up to take his turn at the wheel.
The next day they continued their voyage westward over the Pacific. They took the dinghy aboard, and day after day dumped the cargo of sulphate of potassium and coke into the sea. This work took them a month to complete.
Next they repainted the vessel from green to white. They painted out the name Nueva Tigre and substituted White Rose.
It was Alortelman’s object to make for Australia and sell the vessel and so, by the compass, westward he sailed.
He was favoured by glorious weather at the start of the adventure, but, when a sudden squall arose, he and his companion were terror-stricken. They tried in vain to take in sail until they were forced to chop the sails to pieces.
The foresail went altogether, and to replace it, they rigged up a yard and bent a square sail upon it.
In the meantime the pirate was de termining how he would answer ques which would inevitably await him at the end of the voyage. He had no clearance, no ship’s papers, no log, so he concocted a document which purported to be a bill of sale of the schooner to Taylor and Jackson, as partners.
He knew that he had to sail under some flag, but there was only a Peruv ian flag aboard, and he thought that it would seem strange that a vessel from Valparaiso should sail under the Peruvian flag. He therefore fashioned out of this a Union Jack.
And so the voyage continued. . . .
The White Rose At Apemama.
It was on the morning of January 24, 1908, that the trading schooner Louise J. Kenny, of Sydney, and the auxiliary schooner, Laurel, were lying at anchor in the lagoon at the island of Apemama. The supercargo of the former came up on deck early and ascended the rigging for a look round.
As he gazed across the flat between the lagoon and the ocean he saw through the coconut palms the mast of a schooner rocking as though she was on a reef. The officers of the Laurel had also seen this vessel, and both ship’s launches made for the shore.
The men crossed the narrow strip of land and one of the engineers wad ed out to the vessel which was the White Rose. He was greeted by two men one a powerfully built fellow of about 30 years of age, the other was a pale faced youth of slender build.
The elder man said he was John Tay lor and his companion was George Jackson. Taylor explained that he had been on the reef for about twenty minutes, that in coming in they had
missed stays and failed to come about, and had struck the reef. He said he was the captain and Jackson was the crew, and that his schooner was the White Rose from Valparaiso, bound for Tahiti.
Taylor and Jackson were treated as shipwrecked mariners, and it was ar ranged that they should be taken to Tarawa in the Louise J. Kenny. It happened that the Louise J. Kenny was a trading schooner, and for the purposes of trade, the supercargo had much money in his possession. Taylor soon found this out and made plans to dispose of the white men and seize the vessel, and, but for “Jackson,” he might have succeeded in his plan.
Ever since their arrival at Apemama, Jackson had tried to elude the pirate and tell the true story of the hap penings on the White Rose. Taylor was aware of his intentions, and had told him that if he disclosed the occur rences, he would kill him. In spite of this, the youth got his chance and told the steward his tale. The stew ard reported this to the captain and Taylor was seized and placed in con finement, and then handed over to the police at Tarawa. . . .
The Trial At Suva.
The Supreme Court at Suva was crowded for the trial of Mortelmans.
Skerritt was the main witness for the prosecution and the general outline of his evidence has been already given.
He was corroborated by witnesses brought specially from Callao, who identified the various articles found on the White Rose, and swore to the departure of the vessel Nueva Tigre from Callao with these articles, as well as the Italian master and mate and Mortelmans and Skerritt on board.
Evidence from the Louise J. Kenny and the Laurel as to the arrival of the schooner at Apemama and the happenings there, completed the case.
There was a lengthy list of exhibits in court, including the missing cap tain’s clothes, the wheel of the Puelche, the spurious bill of sale, the makeshift Union Jack, and—perhaps what had more effect on the jury than anything else the nameboard of the din ghy. On this the pirate had painted out the original name, Nueva Tigre, and superimposed the name White Rose. But time had defeated him. For, on the board stood out the old letter ing, Nueva Tigre, with the utmost dis tinctiveness.
The pirate was convicted and re ceived a sentence of penal servitude for life.
This case, embodying as it does pir acy on high seas in its most malicious form, probably will go down in the annals of history as the last of its kind in the South Seas.