made by fire or smoke, and then the whole of them make for this, and
seize the merchants and plunder them. After they have plundered they
let them go, saying, 'Go along with you and get more gain, and that
mayhap will fall to us also!' But now the merchants are aware of this,
and go so well manned and armed, and with such great ships, that they
don't fear the corsairs. Still mishaps do befal them at times."[1]

From the Persian Gulf to Cape Comorin the whole coast was beset by
native pirates, and, with the rise of the Mahratta power, the evil
increased. Petty chiefs sometimes levied blackmail by giving passports
to those who would pay for them, claiming the right to plunder all
ships that did not carry their passes; but often the formality was
dispensed with. Owing to the paucity of records of the early days, and
the more serious hostility of the Portuguese and Dutch, we hear little
of the losses sustained from native pirates, except when some ship
with a more valuable cargo than usual was captured. Fryer tells us how,
in his day, a rock off Mangalore was known as Sacrifice Island, "in
remembrance of a bloody butchery on some English by the pirate
Malabars." He further tells us how, in 1674, between Goa and Vingorla,
he took part in an attack on a pirate ship that they came on as it was
plundering a prize it had just taken, while the Dutch watched the
engagement from the shore.

"We soon made him yield his prize to engage with us, which they did
briskly for two hours, striving to board us, casting stink-pots among
us, which broke without any execution, but so frightened our rowers,
that we were forced to be severe to restrain them. They plied their
chambers and small shot, and slung stones, flourishing their targets
and darting long lances. They were well manned in a boat ten times as
big as our barge, and at least sixty fighting men besides rowers. We