torture

[skibum5889]

Hello as usual i wait until the last minute to get my work done . But i need help, what are some of the torture methods used by pirates. I tried looking for them but i guess i can't find them. Please help.... Fast

[Rosalinda]

Flogging

Withholding Rum Ration

Keelhauling

Blindfolding and tying to the big brass bed

Coitus Interruptus (especially when done by a third party)

Hope this helps!

[Redd Oktober]

Throwing buckets and broken bottles at captives was fun (a bucket throw is what aided in William Kidd's conviction).

Also..."Kissing The Gunner's Daughter" (Bending victim over the barrel of a cannon and flogging their backside).

[TalesOfTheSevenSeas]

Here ye go mate... enough pirate torture to satisfy yer twisted deeeesires:

Click for Keelhauling n' More Piratical Hobbies

These are the basics. But there were individual accounts of things such as "sweating" where captives were made to run in circles around the mast while the pirates poked and prodded them with all manner of threatening objects.

There were gruesome captive accounts, particularly some of the ones by sailors captured by Ladrone Chinese pirates. Now those were some tough pirates. Feet nailed to the deck and such things.

One guy named L'Olonaise (may not have the correct spelling) actually ripped a guy's heart out, and chewed on it to make a point.

Blackbeard shot his drinking buddies in the knees just "so they'd remember him"

...and if you want the REALLY bad stuff, research the British Navy. Pirates often became pirates because treatment aboard naval vessals was so inhumane.

Best of luck with your project, I hope this helps.

[Thadius Drake]

One pirate that you want to look up is Edward Low. When he took over the Nostre Signiora de Victoria The Portuguese captain threw out a bag with 11,000 moidores in it. Low cut off the captain's lips, broiled them in front of his face, and murdered the entire crew.

On another occasion:

"After this he took a sloop bound to Amboy, Wiiliam Frazier master,

with whom Mr. Low happening to be displeased, he ordered lighted

matches to be tied between the mens fingers, which burnt all the

flesh off the bone; then cut them in several parts of their bodies

with knives and cutlasses..."

The references are from A General History of the Robberies & Murders of the Most Notorious Pirates, by Captain Charles Johnson. Nostre Signiora: pages 297-98; Amboy: page 300 Just in case you need bibliography.

Good luck on getting your report done

Drake

[TalesOfTheSevenSeas]

Oh yeah, that reminded me of another gruesome incident. It is the first story in "Captured by Pirates; 22 Stories of Murder and Mayhem on the High Seas" I'm afraid my copy of the book is out on loan so I can't quote exactly, but there is a ship taken over by pirates demanding to know where they've got their money hidden. The captain refuse to tell them until they cut off his arms, at this point, he finally tells them where the money is hidden. For his efforts, they stuff his mouth full of oakum and light it on fire. A bad way to go to be sure.

I highly recommend that book. It reads like fiction then you suddenly are reminded that this stuff really happened to someone way back then. Heavy duty reading.

[Maraudin Sparky]

Arrr now this is an interestin thread I say, and so many sources to go to... but here's some which seem to have stuck in my head from somewhere..

Woodling I think it was called, where rope was twisted so tightly round someones head, their eyes would burst out of their sockets....

I know there's the usual cutting peoples nose/lips/putting-out-o-eyes and even making them eat them...

Or even, cutting someones stomach open and nailing part of their intestine to the mast and then beating them with burning things until their entire gut would be hanging out.

Or being forced to drink lots of seawater, or even lots of rum (I know which I would think I would prefer).

Of course some of the more entertainin could always be the fun mock trials...

I seem to remember hearing about a Chinese pirate prisoner who was kept in a small cage for so long, that he was permanently deformed.

Oh and I think I remember reading that Captain Morgan put a woman on a stove for not telling where her jewellery was hidden (or was it because she wouldn't give something else to him!!?)

If I think of any others I'll post them,... Of course some of the nastiest tortures I have heard of came from inquisition times... and I would be surprised if the pirates wouldn't have been inspired by this.

[Spydre Rogue]

Arr...

Here be one o' me ol' crew's fav'rites; wot they called "poppit on a string."

Ye take yer intended vicktim and tie a rope round 'is waist an' under 'is arms an' toss it o'er a yardarm. Then, ye flay all the top meat off'n th' soles o' his feet and ye cast seawater on the deck. Next, lower th' condem'd down onta th' deck an' keep just enuff tension on the rope so thet all's 'e ken do is hop about kickin' 'is knees an' legs up inta th' air, screamin' bloody murder whilst 'e does. Mind ye, give 'em too much rope an' they al'ays throw themselves onta the deck an' flop about; but th' crew al'ays thought thet partic'lar amusin', so occasionally they'd let th' rope go slack, an' after a while yank their vicktim back up into th' air an' then back onta 'is feet.

I ne'er much went in fer sich shenanigans but ye've got ta let yer crew have some fun wunst in a while; fertunately fer me, me new crew be much more refined.

-Spydre

[Captain Goodwench]

Coitus Interruptus (especially when done by a third party)

from Rosalinda

Thanks, I'm gonna have nightmares for weeks now!!! That is the most gawd awful and ghastly torture technique I have ever heard of!!

Who the Hell thinks up these things!!

[crow]

Flogging

Withholding Rum Ration

Keelhauling

Blindfolding and tying to the big brass bed

Coitus Interruptus (especially when done by a third party)

Hope this helps!

By the great balls of Zeus ... What kind o inhuman beast would withold a sailor's rum ration ? keelhaulin aint so bad an you know how hard it is to reach that itchy spot in the middle o yer back sometimes . Doesn't flogging belong with the last two on the list ?

[Grendle]

Arr, and sum time, when they be in a partick you larlly evil dispose ishon, they'd drop a bound and nakkid prisoner into the box, called the Father Grabe, where a heavil beast called the Gard Empee (poorly trained and seckshally depreaved) would have its merry way with them, whilst the crew made pictures "fer later".

Yo.

[PyratePhil]

Flogging

Withholding Rum Ration

Keelhauling

Blindfolding and tying to the big brass bed

Coitus Interruptus (especially when done by a third party)

Sorta' reminds me o' me 18th birthday party...

...but thet be a tale fer another time 'n' place...

[Iron Bess]

Okay, mates.... here be a little (considerably edited) bedtime tale of suffering and such like.

(Copyright: Random House)

**********************************************************

From a table that stood just behind, Barris took up a thin, razor sharp knife in his gloved hand and proceeded to make narrow, precise incisions in his victim’s flesh. He began the disfigurement just beneath the binding strap across the shoulders, moving downward at great ease along the chest and belly until reaching and moving into and along the sensitive skin of the groin and genitals. So keen was Barris’ mastery of his blade that the cuts bled very little and the writing recipient of his skills was soon covered with fine red lines as if his body had been adorned by an artist’s brush.

Barris continued at his task with such deliberate slowness that is was some time before he had to pause for fear of allowing his prisoner to succumb to death much to early in the proceedings.

Barris would have him to die in an hour other then this…

While Barris waited, he supported himself on the table’s edge with a tight grip that was born of some inner anger that he only now realized, seemed to be growing in him. He leaned over the warrior’s face that he might hear him more clearly. “Reconsider.” Barris said to him. “Tell me who would have you to murder the King’s brother.” It was apparent that the man bound on the table was beyond the capability of speech. His head rolled from side to side and his bleeding chest shuddered with gasped air and pain and the apprehension of a time of waiting for the torture to begin anew.

His wait was not a long one.

Barris took account of the seeping blood that dampened his prisoner’s belly and with a practiced eye, knew it would serve rightly as the proper incitement to the creature that would, at the last, finally bring an incomprehensible death. However… not before the passing of long, hideous hours. Without even so much as a glance behind him, Barris simply raised his hand and a man appeared at his side gripping a small, round iron cauldron. It was inverted; it’s wide opening covered with a flat tile of metal as if holding some unknown contents from falling away. Barris took it into his hands without taking his eyes off the warriors reddened and sweat soaked face. “I will ask it of you one last time.” He said quietly. “Your death is at hand. I can grant you release swiftly… or you will find your last journey to be long and tedious slow.” He waited and watched. The Viking’s resolve was infinite and Barris knew from the deeper place within himself that he had lost. This man would not be broken. All his experience recognized that this man would die victorious. He would give up his life to keep his honour. And as indignant at this prospect as he might be, Barris could not within himself find a fault with it. He respected strength and most especially, strength within a rival.

Still, in being true to his own code of honour… he would show no mercy. This man would die with his honour well earned.

The room stood in a deadly quiet… and Barris found himself compelled to ask one final time. “Know you this Viking,” he said lowly, “Death is but a heartbeat away and by my own hand…if you tell me who it is that sent you to do murder.” This same huge hand seemed to caress the iron bowl as he stood with it ominously held within his prisoner’s sight. “Refuse me in this, and I will give you new meaning to the value of a warriors suffering.” He only waited for a moment. “Who sent you?”

It was as he suspected. The warrior would hold his tongue… save for the screaming that Barris knew would soon be forthcoming.

Barris raised his head and looked about the room at the men that stood waiting to do his bidding. He needed no assistance in this. And he could find no value in allowing his own men, loyal and obedient as they were, to take any victors pleasure in the hideous misery he was about to inflict. He would see this through to the end with the Viking… alone. It was a single, final token of respect that he could pay to a man that was a formidable adversary. Barris would not send him to his Gods burdened with a sense of inner shame should he die with an incoherent cry on his lips. With only the simple movement of his head the men were dismissed and they left without a word or even a glance back.

When the door closed behind the last, Barris moved the cauldron to just above the man’s stomach and carefully set it down upon the bloodied flesh. Made of iron and heavier then it appeared it needed no device to hold it secure and the sudden weight made all the harder the warrior’s already difficult enough attempts to draw in air. With a simple pull, Barris slid from beneath it the tile that had held the bowl contents in place and immediately, despite his semi-conscious state… the Viking’s eyes widened in horror.

Scurrying, scratching claws brushed his already torn and tortured belly from beneath the overturned cauldron as the metal tile was removed from it’s place.

The bowl contained a number of small rats. Without a word Barris placed an enormous glowing coal into the shallow indentation atop the inverted bowl and knew it would take but a very few moments for the iron to begin to heat. To be certain, he added another.

Held fast by the binding tight around his body and bound taut and secure to the table upon which he lay the warrior’s greatest agony was in his immobility. Instinct tugged at his still strong muscles and despite his mind knowing the fruitlessness of his effort, it struggled to surge up and throw off the absolute horror that now confronted him. He felt the fire from the red hot coals seep downward and inflame the entire metal basin with a scalding heat. As the moments passed, it began to incinerate his flesh in that place where the instrument lay pressing against his stomach. It was in the moment afterward that the realization was born in his shocked and disoriented mind as to the reality of what it was that would prevail over that last measure of the time left to him in this world.

Being driven into frenzy by the ever increasing heat that surrounded them and having only the instinct of an animal, the maddened rats launched into an escape in the only manner in which they knew how… They began to burrow into the soft and bloodied flesh of the Viking’s belly.

The shrieks and screams that marked the beginning of the time of trial resounded within the chamber walls and so wrenching was their sound that it chilled the blood of even the hardened men who heard their echo in the yard far below. Barris only stood and watched in his usual silence.

It was horror beyond imagining. The animals, turned vicious in their attempt for self-preservation, clawed, chewed and lacerated through the meat of his stomach and began to descend into this entrails and bowels. Barris had been certain to obtain only small rats. He did not want too much damage done in too quick a time. He needed this man to have a chance to consider the alternative and answer what it was that Barris had asked of him. From the inhuman screams and moaning he felt that his acquisitions had been the correct ones. He was please in that it appeared there would indeed be time for reflection on his victim’s part and failing in this, it would take a good long while for this warrior to die.

All was as it should be.

Barris watched the writhing figure on the table before him. The empty sound of lungs gasping for air only to expel again what little could be gathered for another outcry or moan or scream was so familiar to him. Why was it then… he was finding this particular examination to be openly unsettling to him?

He let his eye sweep over the man suffering by his hand that was laid out helpless in front of him. What was it? Something for the first time was disturbing. Disturbing in this, his work? Was it that this was a warrior not unlike himself? No. He had dispatched countless number of his like kind and felt nothing. What then? This was a man no different from any other. Was it the man? Not likely. He was a warrior and knew his fate if taken. What was this inner knawing that set Barris to wondering and what was worse… questioning the rightness of what he was doing. What he had already done. It was unlike him to be bothered. He listened to the agony being played out just beside him with seeming indifference but his mind was racing. “End this!” he thought, “Just speak to me what I’ve asked of you!” he heard his mind say in voiceless entreaty.

He was suddenly startled to realize that the finish would not be long in arriving now. How long had he stood there? Could so much time have escaped him without his knowing? A glance darted to the sliver of a window showed the light of a sun setting sky where at the onset it had held the glowing brightness of a sun high up. He moved over to stand beside the Viking and was not surprised at the blood that flowed freely from his mouth and nose. His eyes, glassy and gone pale seemed to focus on nothing. The flesh of his belly and groin heaved and billowed like a stormy sea from within it’s recesses, alive with the surging wave a living rats that pushed and fed on and sought continued escape from the inside of the tortured body. Barris saw death coming into his eyes.

“Enough.” Barris said aloud in a whispered voice.

Moving to the wall against which he has supported himself, he drew up from a bench his broadsword. Slipping it silently from its sheath he moved the few steps back to the tableside and noiselessly set it a fraction of a breath above the Viking’s throat. He felt the familiar tension grow throughout his muscles as his body prepared to strike a blow.

Without thought he raised the sword, trembling from the strength with which the cut would be delivered to just over his head… and in that fractured moment before he struck, he heard his name whispered as if by a disembodied voice. The blinding, irrational tension that fills a body with its great strengths caused him to be stunned in that moment. With a viable effort he shook off his intention as he slowly lowered his weapon and searched the face of the man in front of him.

The Viking’s eyes had cleared of their cloudiness and now looked directly up and into Barris’ own. The mighty Barris was somewhat taken aback. With almost undetectable breaths, the Viking gathered what voice he could and called again his name. “Barris…”

The Dun Lord stood unmoving and looked down into a face contorted with the agonies that he had visited upon it. “I am here.” He answered. The dying warrior spewed a soft rain of blood as he spoke in a whispered that indeed belonged of the grave. “Barris…” he said yet again, “…know that you have not conquered over… me.” His body still enveloped in agony, trembled not with his endurance of it but from within… from the incessant movements of the rats. “Know this also…” he managed after a pause, “…that what I tell you now is given to you freely… by my own choice.” His struggle was immense to continue.

“You have won only my poor death with all your skill… with all your ability… You have my life at an end. I still have the knowing… of what you sought.” He writhed up for a moment with his suffering and when it lessened, he fought to say again his mind. “I will tell you what you want to know warrior. Not to save my life for which there is no help. I tell you… to see your face when you hear it.” He was gripped by a wail of pain that subsided into stillness as it passed. “Come closer Lord Barris…” he said softly “…so I can see your face.” Barris moved to his side and stood so that his own face was well illuminated by the torch on the near wall. “Speak you then.” Barris bid him. The two warriors looked into the eyes of one another and each recognized a part of himself within the other man’s face.

“I will tell you… who sent six warriors of his own choosing to murder the King’s brother. He looked with the eyes of the dying upon Barris who watched the satisfaction he expected to see fail to materialize as the first, unmistakable twinge of death began to wash over the man before him. “It was the King, Barris… It was the King that sent us to murder his mother’s son.” The fractured voice began to fail and a rumble began to escape from his throat that he could not control…and had no fear of. “And…” he taunted at the last, “…look well after the life of your Egan milord.” he choked and then struggled to finish. “…for the one thing I refuse you in my…generosity… the name of those who are being sent to kill the King’s…son.”

The Viking was resoundingly cheated at the last. As his life slipped away and he felt the drawing out of his spirit to be at last separated from the torment of his wracked body, he did not survive the time long enough to see the sudden disquiet that played across Barris’ face.

Death came as it does for all, yet sickeningly in this case to the host only. The rats still caused a perverse and morbid twitching that gave an illusion of life still lingering. Barris decided that the entire corpse should be burned… along with his so carefully chosen allies still within it.

As he stood in the quiet that was now his only company, Barris considered all of what it was that he had heard. A dying mans last falsehood upon an enemy? No. He moved to the small window and looked out into the darkening sky. Barris, with stunned acknowledgement, recognized the truth in what he had been told. This fact had indeed caught him off his guard but Barris was never taken by surprise more then once by any one man.

This Kings breast reeked of treachery and now it seemed it had reached out to deface his own lineage. Well enough then if he chose to be rid of his own sibling, in that Barris had no quarrel as it was not his own tribal hierarchy. “Best look then to your own life my King…” Barris said in a low voice heard only by the stone walls and the now lifeless warrior who lay near by. “Bring you your treachery to within my domain and contrive to visit your intrigue on the life of your son…” His voice suddenly fell silent and he felt the very fiber of his being snap and tense with the filling of a sour and palatable hatred. “Come you here to deal with death upon Egan… and it is Barris with whom you will be at war.”

[Red Bess]

*shudder*

OK, Bess. That gets my vote for Best Torture. And, uh, thanks for the "considerable editing", although I don't even want to imagine what you left out.

[Iron Bess]

*shudder*

OK, Bess. That gets my vote for Best Torture. And, uh, thanks for the "considerable editing", although I don't even want to imagine what you left out.

(chuckle)

Oh well, Barris has a long history of being pretty head strong AND the possessor of a really nasty streak when it comes to getting what he thinks he needs.

I edited some of the torture but mostly story line since you'll not be after know'n the end and all of it anyways.

I'll leave it as Barris is a hard mad to reason with but he in no way views himself as a cruel man.

[Captain Jim-sib]

With Respect to Rum Ration...From James Henderson's The Frigates, 1970, page 22

In the Royal Navy in the age of sail..."The allowance of beer was a gallon a day, and of rum half a pint; but this rum was almost pure alcohol, and when cut down, as it was, with two pints of water it was still equivalent to very nearly two bottles of rum at the strength at which it is retailed today. Anybody today who drank eight pints of beer and the best part of two bottles of spirits every day would be put down as an alcoholic, yet this was the daily ration for every man in the Navy. It was eagerly expected. The severest punishment less than flogging was to cut a man's rum ration off for a week; the withdrawal symptoms must have been very unpleasant..."