Monterey Pirates

Are pirates villainous rogues or romantic heroes, desperate drunks or subversive guerrillas?  One thing is for sure, they are good sailors.  Not only do they conquer the high seas, but they conquer other ships on those same high seas, not to mention avoiding Davy’s Locker.  So they definitely qualify to be included in my series on “Ocean People.”

I saw pirates walking down the street in Monterey last week. Two different days and places.

Not unexpectedly I saw lots of small eye-patched pirates on Halloween night, heard many “Aarghs” and “Avasts,” saw little boys and girls bask in a night of being just a little bad.

Then I saw a whole band of pirates, grown-ups, at the Presidio Historic Park, doing their annual reenactment of the 1818 “Burning of Monterey,” when 200 pirates sailed into Monterey Harbor and attacked the Spanish fort, the only time a hostile foreign force has landed on the west coast of the US.  Led by French/Argentinian Hippolyte Bouchard, the pirate band forced the then Spanish governor to retreat and hundreds of residents of Monterey to flee on foot to Salinas, while the pirates looted and guzzled at the fort for a week, then set fire to the town, and sailed off for their next adventure in Santa Barbara.

These big modern pirates reenacting an invasion, an annual event which next year will be the bicentennial, were having as much fun as the trick or treaters, although they tried to keep the smiles off their faces, and used not fake swords but real cannons to make their case.

And while I know that historic pirates and current pirates, like the Somalis in the Indian Ocean, are violent and lawless, I found my heart aflutter at both the little and big pirates I saw.  Maybe it’s a small Johnny Depp crush, but I find something appealing about swashbucklers.

Maybe it’s their rebelliousness; I always root for the rebel.  Turns out many of the Atlantic and Caribbean pirates of the 17^th/18^th centuries were former British sailors who quit the rigid authoritarian navy and set up comparatively more egalitarian and democratic ships, sharing booty (and booze.) Or they were former crew of captured ships, from victim to victimizer. 

Even the Somalis, some argue, are “victims” of a confused and oppressive government that perpetuates poverty and injustice as rich boats sail by. 

Hippolyte Bouchard is likewise portrayed very differently in the Argentinian and Monterey versions of his exploits.  Here in Monterey he is a lawless and violent invader, remembered with just a small sign in the park.  Some locals object to even this simple reenactment; “We should not honor a criminal.”  But in Buenos Aires he is honored on statues, streets, even a postage stamp.  There he is called a freedom fighter and privateer, rather than pirate, who helped bring down the evil Spanish Empire. 

Pirate or privateer?  It’s a subtle difference – depends on whether you have a “letter of marque,” authorization by a state to go pillage and plunder foreign ships.  That’s what Queen Elizabeth I gave Sir Francis Drake, another famous privateer.  The actual high seas hijinx of pirate and privateer are not so different.  It’s simply who gave you permission, the queen or your own greed or initiative or desire revenge.  (Drake also landed in California, but burned no towns.  I wonder if we would tell the story differently if he hadn’t been English?)

Bouchard was authorized in 1815 by the newly independent Argentina to destabilize other Spanish colonies; as Argentina was now free from Spanish oppression they sought to bring other colonies to freedom.  And destabilize he did; the Monterey “raid,” or “liberation” was near the end of a round the world trip where he “destabilized” from Manila to Peru.  He returned to Buenos Aires for a hero’s welcome.  He was not the only one sowing seeds of rebellion.  Mexico, of which California was then a part, was already fighting against Spain, and in 1821 was granted independence and California became part of Mexico.

Bouchard had briefly raised the Argentinian flag over the Monterey Presidio, but three years later we too were free from Spain.  The Mexican flag flew at the Monterey Presidio for 28 years, until 1849 when the US flag was first raised.

I doubt the young Halloween pirates knew they walked the same Monterey streets as Bouchard and his band.   I hope they don’t grow up to be rapists and pillagers.  But a little rebellious spirit in youth and a little loyal opposition in adults is good for any country.  Avast, ye mateys!

Copyright © 2017 Deborah Streeter