Widows Sons - Privateers

The Golden Age of Guernsey Privateers
For nearly 150 years, Guernsey folk found an unusual way to make a very good living: privateering, essentially legal piracy during wartime. From the late 1600s through the Napoleonic Wars, this small Channel Island became a thriving hub of licensed sea raiders, with local ships preying on enemy commerce and hauling home immense riches.

1. Origins and Historical Context
Guernsey’s privateering tradition sprang from its unique position between England and France. For centuries the Channel Islands were officially neutral in Anglo-French wars (thanks to old royal edicts and even a Papal Bull of 1483), meaning islanders could sit out conflicts. That changed in 1689 when King William III revoked the neutrality at the outbreak of war with France. Suddenly, Guernsey ships were free – indeed encouraged – to attack French vessels. Islanders wasted no time. They obtained Letters of Marque (government licenses to private ship owners allowing them to capture enemy ships legally) and fitted out their fastest vessels with guns. Thus began Guernsey’s era of privateering. (Historical footnote: even earlier, in 1590s, Queen Elizabeth I had quietly allowed some Guernsey mariners to harass French shipping. But 1689 marked the official embrace of privateering.)
 
Once war with France was on, Guernsey entered a “golden age” of privateering. Throughout the 1700s, whenever Britain was at war (which was often!), Guernsey captains armed their ships and sailed as privateers. During the War of Spanish Succession (1702–1713), the island’s involvement exploded – by 1713 Guernsey had over 115 privateer vessels in action. They roamed the English Channel and beyond, hunting French and Spanish merchant ships. A contemporary report noted that by 1713, Channel Island privateers had taken prizes worth over £100,000 (a huge sum then) during that war alone. In subsequent conflicts – the Seven Years’ War, American War of Independence, French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars – Guernsey’s privateers became famed (or infamous) for their effectiveness. The island’s geography, lying close to French ports like St. Malo, gave it a strategic advantage: local sailors knew the tides and coasts, allowing them to intercept enemy traders or evade pursuers deftly.
Image: 1757 map of Guernsey by French cartographer Jacques-Nicolas Bellin
2. The Privateering Process and Methods
To operate as a privateer, a Guernsey shipowner needed a Letter of Marque from the Crown. This document was essentially a contract: it named the ship and captain, listed the armaments and crew, and authorized them to “set forth in a warlike manner” to capture enemy ships. For example, an actual surviving Letter of Marque from 1778 (issued during the American Revolutionary War when France allied with America) authorizes Captain Thomas Fallaize of Guernsey to command the 150-ton brig Surprise (14 guns, 70 men) as a privateer. It even names Guernsey merchants Henry Le Mesurier and Andrew Bonamy as the financiers backing that ship. Armed with such paperwork, a privateer ship could not be treated as a pirate (as long as it obeyed the rules).

Once at sea, Guernsey privateers followed a code of conduct. They were only allowed to attack enemy vessels – attacking neutrals or friendlies could land them in serious legal trouble for piracy. When they sighted a target (often a lone merchantman heavy with cargo), they’d give chase. Privateer ships from Guernsey were typically fast and nimble – like schooners, brigs, or luggers – trading raw firepower for speed. Many carried modest cannon (6 to 18 guns was common) but relied on surprise and daring rather than brute strength. If they caught up to the quarry, a battle might ensue or the intimidated merchant might surrender. Upon a successful capture, the prize ship and its cargo were brought back to St. Peter Port in Guernsey. There an Admiralty Prize Court would evaluate the capture to ensure it was legal. Assuming all was in order, the ship and goods were condemned and auctioned off.

How was the loot split? A fixed formula governed the division of prize money: typically, 1/5 of the value went to the Crown (the King’s cut). The remaining value was divided between the owners and crew. In British practice, the privateer ship’s owners (who paid for the vessel and outfitting) took the largest share – often around 2/3 – and the captain and crew split the rest. Even that smaller portion could be life-changing: a single rich capture could see an ordinary sailor pocket an amount equal to years of normal wages. There were also incentive bonuses, like a reward to the crewman who first spotted a sail or first clambered onto an enemy deck. Discipline and teamwork were maintained by these profit-sharing rules – everyone had motivation to cooperate and fight hard.

One quirk of early 18th-century privateering was the practice of ransoming prizes at sea. Sometimes, if a captured ship was valuable and sending it to port was risky, a Guernsey privateer would negotiate a cash ransom with the captain to release it. This was especially common if the prize carried perishable or hard-to-transport cargo like wine and brandy – commodities much loved by the islanders! In 1748, a Guernsey privateer took a French ship laden with wine, then agreed to release it for £1,000 ransom, rather than escort it to port. The privateer later cheekily reported to authorities that a “contrary wind” prevented bringing the ship in, so they had accepted a ransom. British naval command eventually frowned on this kind of deal-making (they wanted all prizes properly processed through Admiralty courts), and by the later 1700s ransom practices died out. After that, Guernsey privateers brought their captures home whenever possible, unless enemy warships forced them to abandon a prize.
Guernsey’s privateers also coordinated with the Royal Navy at times. They would share intelligence about enemy movements – for instance, alerting the Navy if a French convoy was spotted leaving port. In at least one famous case, a Guernsey privateer captain’s warning helped save the day: more on that in the next section. Privateers might even join Navy ships in combined operations occasionally. But generally, they operated independently, driven by profit but also by patriotism (after all, they were harming the enemy’s commerce, which helped Britain’s war effort).
 
Back home in Guernsey, an entire support industry grew around privateering. Shipyards in St. Peter Port and St. Sampson built new fast sloops and refitted captured vessels for use as privateers. Local workshops made sails, ropes, cannons, and shot. Tavern keepers, chandlers, and suppliers thrived when crews returned flush with prize money – there was an influx of gold and goods that percolated through the economy. One statistic gives an idea of scale: in 1800, during the Napoleonic Wars, Guernsey commissioned 35 new privateer ships in a single year, adding some 1,716 crewmen to its privateering fleet. For a small island community, that’s a massive mobilization – truly “industrial-scale” privateering.
3. Key Figures and Notable Events
Many swashbuckling characters emerged from Guernsey’s privateering days. Their exploits became local legends. Here are a few of the most notable:
  • Captain John Tupper (fl. 1690s): Often called “the greatest of the Guernsey privateers”, John Tupper made his mark not just by capturing ships but by heroic action. In May 1692, Tupper was sailing his small privateer sloop when he spotted the entire French fleet assembling near La Hogue for an invasion attempt. Realizing England was in peril, Tupper raced to warn the nearest Royal Navy commanders. His timely intelligence reached Admiral Russell and directly contributed to the Royal Navy intercepting and defeating the French fleet at the Battle of La Hogue (1692). This victory foiled the invasion. In gratitude, King William III awarded John Tupper a gold medal and chain, which he wore proudly. (That medal still existed in family hands generations later.) Tupper later continued privateering; though less is recorded of his specific prizes, he became an island hero for essentially “saving Britain” that day. In Guernsey’s Museum there’s a portrait of him wearing the medal.
  • Captain Nicholas Le Messurier (1731–1759): A young but celebrated privateer captain. Le Messurier commanded a 20-gun privateer ship named Bellona during the Seven Years’ War. In February 1759, off the Azores, he encountered a much larger French East Indiaman (an armed merchant ship) and engaged in a fierce battle. The fight raged for over an hour. Tragically, Captain Le Messurier was killed in action – Bellona was outgunned and had to break off, having inflicted damage but not captured the prize. Back in Guernsey, his bravery was so esteemed that the ship’s owners and his comrades erected a memorial plaque to him in the Town Church (St. Peter Port). That marble monument (still visible today) praises his “gallant conduct” and sacrifice. (Image: Memorial plaque to Capt. Nicholas Le Messurier in Town Church, Guernsey, 1759*)*. His story shows that while privateering was lucrative, it was also deadly – not all came home rich; some came home in coffins or not at all.
  • The Privateer Families: Guernsey’s effort was truly a family-and-friends enterprise. Several wealthy local families bankrolled many voyages. The Dobrée, Priaulx, Le Mesurier, Le Marchant, and Carey families were prominent investors. They would outfit ships, often in partnership. For example, records show the Dobrée-Carey partnership financed a fleet of privateers in the mid-1700s. They took on the financial risk and were rewarded with big chunks of prize profits. However, this also led to interesting legal tangles. By 1709, so many Jurats (island judges) had relatives in the privateering business that it was hard to form an impartial court to judge prize disputes! The Privy Council in London had to intervene, ordering how to handle prize cases to avoid conflicts of interest. It was a sign that “everyone was related to everyone” in the island’s tight-knit community – and everyone had a stake in privateering.
  • Famous Prizes: Among the hundreds of captures by Guernsey privateers, a few stand out for their value or drama. In 1793, just weeks after Britain declared war on Revolutionary France, the Guernsey privateer lugger Resolution (captained by William Le Lacheur) had an encounter that became the talk of the island. Resolution teamed up with a Jersey privateer to chase down the French East Indiaman St. Jean de Luz (sometimes called St. Jean de Lone) near the French coast. After a sharp fight, they seized it. The prize was enormous: the Indiaman was carrying silk, tea, spices, and other goods from Asia; in London it was valued around £150,000! That windfall made the lucky crew wealthy overnight and yielded a fortune for the ship’s backers. Le Lacheur continued to distinguish himself; in 1799, Resolution also captured a French privateer schooner, La Vigie, and retook a previously captured British merchant ship. Stories like those turned successful captains into local heroes, toasted in every tavern. At the same time, across the water, the French cursed the “maudits corsaires de Guernesey” (damned Guernsey privateers). Benjamin Franklin (then in France) grumbled in 1777 that Guernsey and Jersey privateers were “artful enemies” who plagued Allied shipping. The French nicknamed the Channel Islands “nids de guêpes” – nests of wasps – because their privateers stung so incessantly.
  • French reprisals: The war at sea was a two-way street. French privateers (corsairs from St. Malo, Granville, etc.) also targeted Channel Island shipping. Guernsey had to be on guard too. There were instances of Guernsey privateers dueling French privateers. For example, in the 1740s Captain Jacques Ledos, a French corsair from Cherbourg, had a running fight with a privateer from Alderney – both sides took wounds. During the Napoleonic Wars, the tide turned harshly at times: in 1803–1805, powerful French naval squadrons swept the Channel, capturing many privateers. Jersey reportedly lost 42 privateer vessels and over 900 men captured in those years. Guernsey suffered losses as well – crews ended up as prisoners in French jails (like the infamous prison hulks at Brest). So while Guernsey enjoyed great success overall, it paid a price in blood and treasure when luck ran out.
In short, the privateering era produced larger-than-life characters and tales that still echo in Guernsey’s history – from medal-winning sea captains to audacious captures that filled warehouses with exotic loot.
4. Economic Impact on Guernsey
Privateering wasn’t just about adventurous captains; it became an economic pillar of the island. It’s often said that Guernsey “went into the war business” – turning conflict into profit. And indeed, the influx of wealth from prizes transformed the economy.
The most direct impact came from prize money and cargoes. When a valuable ship was brought to port and condemned, its cargo (sugar, rum, tobacco, cloth, you name it) would be sold, often to British or Dutch merchants who came to Guernsey for these auctions. The proceeds filled local coffers. One dramatic figure: in 1800 alone, Guernsey privateers captured over £1,000,000 worth of enemy shipping (mostly from French and American vessels during the ongoing wars). To grasp how huge that is: £1 million in 1800 is equivalent to perhaps £80–100 million today in value, and Guernsey’s population then was under 20,000 people. So per capita, that year’s prize value was astronomical. Even if only a fraction of that stayed with islanders (after paying the Crown and foreign sailors on crews), it was still a massive boost.
Many local merchants reinvested this wealth. For example, Thomas Priaulx, who had been a privateer investor, used his profits to establish Guernsey’s first bank in 1789. The availability of capital led to improvements in the port, more ships for trade, and grander homes in St. Peter Port. The town in the late 1700s saw a building boom – warehouses, offices, and mansions financed by privateering money.

Ancillary industries thrived: as mentioned, shipbuilding expanded hugely. Guernsey-built sloops and cutters earned a good reputation. Between 1793 and 1815, dozens of new vessels were launched from the island’s yards, not just for privateering but also for trade (since wartime shipping demand was high). After the war, those skills didn’t vanish – Guernsey continued building ships into the 19th century (over 300 ships were built in Guernsey from 1830–40, an enduring legacy of the maritime boom).
Another economic aspect was employment. A large chunk of the male workforce went to sea or worked in support roles. At its height, perhaps 1 in 10 Guernsey men were directly employed on privateer ships, with others indirectly employed in related trades. This meant wages and prize shares flowing to many households. Of course, some families also lost their breadwinners to the sea, but many who returned did so with substantial earnings.

A shadow economy also grew: smuggling. With so much contraband (captured brandy, tea, etc.) around, Guernsey became a notorious smuggling base – called a center of “free trade” by locals with a wink. Merchant captains could buy duty-free goods in Guernsey (either captured goods or items imported under the island’s low taxes) and then run them into England to evade British customs. Islanders built secret cellars to store barrels of French brandy, and fast boats ferried them on dark nights to the English coast. It’s said hundreds of Guernsey families made small oak casks for the brandy trade during the wars. Smuggling was technically illegal but widely tolerated; it was another way war wealth spread. The British authorities eventually cracked down around 1805 by stationing a customs cutter in Guernsey and imposing stricter controls. But by then the island had already benefited greatly from this grey-market trade.
 
In summary, privateering catalyzed Guernsey’s transition from a sleepy farming island to a bustling commercial port. It injected capital, created jobs, and internationalized the economy. When the wars ended, Guernsey had banks, shipyards, and a merchant fleet ready to pivot to peaceful commerce. In a way, privateering set the stage for Guernsey’s later prosperity in the 19th century (whether in legitimate trade or, say, its later specialty of fruit export). Some historians half-joke that Guernsey’s knack for offshore finance in the 20th century has roots in the entrepreneurial, somewhat “piratical” spirit of its privateer past!
5. Social Impact on Island Society
The privateering era left a big imprint on Guernsey’s social fabric and identity. Here are a few key effects:
  • Militarization of Daily Life: With so many men at sea as quasi-naval combatants, the island’s outlook became more martial. News of captures or losses was eagerly awaited and discussed in detail at pubs and markets. The return of a successful privateer into St Peter Port harbor – flags flying, perhaps towing a captured ship – was an event that could set the whole town cheering. Conversely, when an expedition went missing or prisoners’ letters arrived from France, most families knew someone who was affected. This wartime footing was almost constant from 1689 to 1815, save a few brief peace years. So an entire generation or two knew nothing else.
  • Social Mobility and Tension: Privateering offered a rare chance for common sailors to strike it rich and climb the social ladder. A farm labourer’s son who signed on a privateer could come back a year later with £50, £100, maybe more – enough to buy land or start a business. Many did. Some successful captains or officers parlayed their prize earnings into gentility, buying estates or securing political office in the island. This blurred class lines a bit, which may have caused some friction with the established elite. But since the elite themselves were often financiers of privateers, a new interdependent class emerged – a maritime bourgeoisie blending merchants and mariners.
  • Pride and Identity: Guernsey people grew proud of their privateers. They were defending the island and the realm in their own way. The British press occasionally lauded the Channel Islanders for their disproportionate contribution to the war at sea. There was a sense that tiny Guernsey “punches above its weight,” which islanders cherished. This pride is evident in things like the monuments to captains, or the way tales of daring sea fights entered local lore and ballads. To this day, Guernsey’s narrative of its history highlights these privateers as national heroes, akin to how Americans remember the Wild West era – a bit of lawlessness but a lot of romance.
  • Population Effects: War always has demographic impacts. Some young men never returned – killed in battle or lost at sea. Others spent years as POWs. However, those who survived often married late (after a few cruises when they had a nest egg). We see in parish records a slightly skewed ratio of women to men during intense war periods (because many men were away). When war ended in 1815, a lot of seafaring men came home to stay, which may have led to a post-war mini baby-boom and also some unemployment or restlessness until they found new livelihoods.
  • Moral Ambiguity: There’s no denying privateering was a legalized form of plunder. While celebrated, it also raised some eyebrows morally. Some Guernsey folk – especially religious ministers or those with business ties to France – might have disapproved of the cruelty inherent in commerce raiding. There are accounts of shipwrecked enemy sailors washing ashore and being rescued by islanders, suggesting empathy beyond the battlefield. Yet, overall, the community seemed to accept privateering as necessary and justified by war. If anything, by the late 1700s, Guernsey developed a bit of a “freewheeling” reputation – a place of smugglers and privateers who flouted rules in the pursuit of profit. This would later be cleaned up in the more straight-laced Victorian era, but in those days Guernsey was a rough-and-tumble frontier of the British Empire.
6. Notable Ships & Voyages
(Since many have been mentioned already in passing, here’s a quick recap and a couple more examples of Guernsey privateering in action.):
  • The Swallow (1690s): John Tupper’s sloop, small but swift. Apart from the La Hogue episode, Swallow captured several French coastal traders early in the Nine Years’ War, helping prove Guernsey’s privateers’ worth. Tupper’s men once raided a Normandy harbor at night to cut out a French ship – daring commando stuff for the 1690s.
  • Le Marlborough (1707): An oddly named Guernsey galley (perhaps humorously named after the famous Duke of Marlborough). In 1707, Le Marlborough seized a rich Dutch merchant ship mistakenly (the Dutch were allies!), leading to a complex prize court case. The fallout of this and similar mix-ups led to the 1709 reforms in prize courts I mentioned. Le Marlborough’s case taught privateers to be more careful identifying targets – oops!
  • L’Entreprenante (1750s): A French privateer brig captured by Guernsey men and taken into island service. Renamed Enterprise, she served through the Seven Years’ War under a Guernsey crew, capturing at least four French prizes. It was common for captured enemy privateer ships to be bought by island investors and refitted as “new” British privateers – recycling the predator for a new master.
  • The Young Phoenix (1778): A cutter that holds the local legend as the luckiest Guernsey privateer – in a single 18-month period during the American War, it captured 20 prizes without ever being caught or defeated. Her captain, Pierre Schaffer, retired a wealthy man. Islanders would say that ship had a charmed life (until peacetime, when it went back to being a trader and ironically wrecked in a storm – go figure!).
  • La Dunkerquoise (1781): A French privateer that attacked the outskirts of St Peter Port one night, firing muskets at a harbor battery. In response, several Guernsey privateers in port, joined by an angry mob with shore guns, chased it off. This incident blurred the line between privateering and direct defense – showing the islanders’ readiness to turn their tools of trade into tools of defense instantly.
  • The Speedwell (1812): By the War of 1812 against America, only a few Channel Island privateers were still active (privateering was starting to decline). The lugger Speedwell out of Guernsey earned fame by capturing an American merchant schooner off Spain in 1812. When told that the war with America had begun, Speedwell’s captain supposedly said, “Not dead yet, boys!” and immediately went hunting U.S. ships – showing that the old spirit lingered to the end.
Each ship and voyage contributed a chapter to a remarkable story: how a diminutive island community leveraged speed, surprise, and seafaring skill to make its fortune at the expense of much larger nations.
7. Decline and End of Privateering
All good (or bad) things come to an end. After 1815 (with Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo), Europe entered a long peace. There was simply no wartime need for privateers. Guernsey’s fleet of privateering vessels mostly disbanded. Some ships were sold into merchant service; others just wore out and were scrapped. A few tried to carry on as smugglers, but without the cover of war that became riskier. The island turned its energy to more lawful trade, shipbuilding, and later, commercial endeavors like quarrying stone and growing tomatoes.

The final nail in the coffin was the Declaration of Paris (1856), an international treaty in which the great powers agreed to abolish privateering. Britain signed on (even though in earlier times it had fiercely defended the practice). By mid-19th century, naval warfare had professionalized and the idea of “outsource piracy” was seen as anachronistic. So, had there been any old privateering loopholes left, they were now closed. No more Letters of Marque would be issued in any future wars. In World War I and II, commerce raiders were strictly naval ships or submarines – private enterprise was out of the equation.
 
Guernsey adapted quite well, though. The foundations of wealth laid by privateering helped it pivot. The island became a busy port for Victorian shipping and later a tourist destination. While privateering ended, the legend of it did not. Many ex-privateers and their descendants remained influential – as merchants, politicians, or respected community figures. They carried a certain swagger from their glory days. Captain Le Lacheur, for instance, moved on to start a coffee trade with Costa Rica in the 1840s, using his naval know-how to establish shipping links that hugely benefited Costa Rica’s economy (he’s a national hero there for introducing their coffee to European markets!). Thus the adventurous spirit lived on in new forms.
8. Visual Legacy and Sources
Today, you can still find tangible reminders of Guernsey’s privateering age:
  • Historic Documents: The Priaulx Library in St. Peter Port holds original Letters of Marque, ship logs, and prize court records. For example, they have copies of a 1777 letter where American envoys complain about Guernsey privateers, and notebooks listing dozens of captures and their sale prices. In 2023, a genuine 1778 Letter of Marque issued to a Guernsey ship (Surprise) even came up for auction, complete with the royal seal and detailed descriptions. Such artifacts show the bureaucracy behind the swashbuckling. (Image suggestion: Scan of an actual 18th-century Letter of Marque for a Guernsey privateer, with fancy handwriting and stamps*)*.
  • Architecture: The beautiful merchants’ houses along Cornet Street and Hauteville in St. Peter Port were often built or expanded in the late 1700s with privateering money. Candie House (now the Candie Museum) was owned by a successful privateer backer, for instance. These buildings, with their elegance, stand in contrast to earlier rustic farmhouses – a visible shift in wealth and style on the island.
  • Memorials: We mentioned the Town Church plaque for Le Messurier. There’s also a gravestone at St Martin’s Parish churchyard for a Captain Philip Saumarez who died in a sea fight in 1720 – inscribed with a proud epitaph of his bravery. Castle Cornet, the fort guarding the harbor, has cannons on display that were captured from French privateers. In some cases, the guns that once armed a French ship ended up mounted on Guernsey’s defenses as trophies.
  • Maritime Museum Exhibits: The Guernsey Museum at Candie and the Maritime Museum in Castle Cornet have exhibits on privateering. You can see things like cutlasses recovered from a privateer wreck, models of famous Guernsey ships, and the aforementioned John Tupper medal (a replica, I believe). They even have a recreated 18th-century privateer captain’s cabin you can step into, complete with maps and pistols. (Image suggestion: Photograph of a model of a Guernsey privateer lugger – showing a sleek two-masted vessel with perhaps 10 small cannon, on display at a museum*)*.
  • Place Names: A few local spots carry nicknames harking back to those days – there’s a “Pirate’s Nest” café (playing on the wasp’s nest moniker), and some pubs like The Ship & Crown display old sailing ship paintings and signboards commemorating privateer captains.
If you want to read more, primary sources are rich: the UK National Archives have a bundle of Channel Islands prize papers (with fascinating details of legal disputes over captures). The Priaulx Library’s online articles – “The Good Intent, June 1777”, “Not Dead Yet – the Speedwell 1812”, etc. – retell specific incidents using diary entries and letters. Many of the numbers I’ve cited (like number of ships, value of prizes) come from research by local historians and archived records.
 

In Conclusion, the story of Guernsey’s privateers is a remarkable chapter where a small island punched far above its weight in the global conflicts of the 18th century. It turned war into opportunity, produced heroes and wealth, and even after it ended, left an indelible imprint on the island’s character. Next time you stroll through St. Peter Port, imagine the harbor two centuries ago: filled with the cries of sailors, the creak of rigging, captured French ships being unloaded on the quays… and perhaps the quiet satisfaction of an island community that had mastered the art of privateering. It’s a history full of adventure, ingenuity, and a fair share of Guernsey grit.