his marble palace, where William Lithgow, the traveller, had supper with him, in the year 1615. Some say that Ward was drowned off Crete, and others that the Turks poisoned him. Both accounts are highly probable. It may be that, in his old age, he bought a pardon from a needy statesman, and settled down to die in Plymouth, where the ale was so good, and the company so congenial. He shares with Bartholomew Roberts the throne of English piracy. Those two alone, of the many who were called to the profession, practised it ever with a certain style, with some pretensions to the grand manner.
There is much literature concerning Ward. There are several ballads, of varying merit, describing an imaginary fight between his cruiser and a ship called the Rainbow, a King's ship sent to capture him. As Professor Laughton has pointed out, the real Rainbow never fought with Ward. Perhaps the name Rainbow is a corruption or popular version of Tramontana, the name of a small cruiser, which may once have chased him in the Irish Channel. In addition to the ballads, there is a play called "A Christian turn'd Turk," by a
