In 1695, the Indian Ocean held its breath.

The Fancy — once a lumbering English warship called the Charles II — now cut through the water like a predator. At her helm stood Henry Every, a man who had slipped the leash of kings and carved his own destiny with a mutiny, a rechristened ship, and a crew hungry for fortune.

Every had heard the same whispers that once reached Thomas Tew: the Mughal treasure fleet was sailing home from Mecca, heavy with pilgrims, gold, silver, and jewels. But where Tew had taken a single prize, Every aimed higher. He wanted the richest ship afloat.

The Ganj‑i‑Sawai was a floating fortress — sixty guns, hundreds of soldiers, and wealth enough to stagger empires. No sane pirate would attack her. Every was not a sane pirate.

He stalked the fleet for days, waiting for the moment when the great ship lagged behind her escorts. When the chance came, the Fancy surged forward, sails taut, guns primed. Every’s men knew the risk. They also knew the reward.

The first broadside shook the sea.

The Fancy’s cannon fire tore into the Ganj‑i‑Sawai’s hull, shattering timbers and throwing the Mughal ship into chaos. A lucky explosion — some say a powder magazine, others say a misfired gun — crippled her defenses. In the confusion, Every closed in, grappling hooks flying, men swarming over the rails.

What followed was brutal, desperate, and swift. When the fighting ended, the greatest treasure ever taken by pirates lay at Every’s feet.

Gold coins. Silver ingots. Silks and spices. Jewels fit for a throne. A haul so vast it defied counting.

News of the attack raced across oceans. The Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb demanded justice. England panicked. The East India Company trembled. And for the first time in history, a global manhunt was launched — all for one pirate and his phantom crew.

But Henry Every vanished.

Some say he fled to Ireland. Some say he died penniless. Some say he lived like a king under another name. No one knows for certain.

Sidenote: Look for a new nonfiction book to be released in October from Virginia Chandler about Henry Every!

What is certain is this: Every’s thunder lit the Pirate Round ablaze. After him came Condent, Bowen, La Buse, and a tide of lesser rogues, all chasing the same impossible fortune.

The Round would never be the same.

More Pirate Round coming!

Til next time, Fair Winds!

To the ghosts that guide us, the storms that test us, and the gold that waits for those who dare — may our ink never run dry and our courage never fade. Raise your tankards, mates… for the sea still remembers our names.