Here be the final testimony of Captain William Kidd, with all the rich truths of Scripture—Passover, manna, loaves, sea crossings, and storms—offered as a warning to all just before me neck meets the rope.
“Oh, Lord, Let Death Passover Me!”
Written by me own hand, moments before I walk to the gallows.
I write these words by dim lantern light in me cell, the night wind whistlin’ through the stone. The turnkey’s gone quiet. The gallows be built. And I—William Kidd, once captain, now condemned—take pen to page not to plead innocence, but to speak truth. For while awaiting my sentence I’ve been readin’ the Holy Book, and the pages cut me deeper than any blade ever did.
The Passover Be Near
This truth struck me in the Gospel of John, chapter six. Before Jesus fed that massive crowd with but five barley loaves, Loving John says, “Now the Passover was near.” A strange thing to mention, ye may lay to that, for later Loving John spends a great deal of time discussing Jesus’ last meal—Passover—on earth. This be the text I read while I nibbled on me last “feast”—a stale piece of bread and sip of water.
Aye, yes, the Passover. The time when God led His people out of slavery in Egypt. When the angel o’ death passed over them who had blood on the door. That moment when God brought ’em through the sea—on dry ground, mind ye—and fed ’em with manna. Daily bread from heaven.
Now here be Jesus—on a hill by Bethsaida (which I hear means house o’ the fisherman), facin’ five thousand men, plus women and children. A crowd chasin’ hope, healing, and perhaps a wee bit of mercy.
Crossin’ Seas and Calmin’ Storms
After the feedin’—and in such a miraculous way that even as a tot I well knew this tale—Jesus bid His mates to sail across the lake to Capernaum, while He stayed ashore. It were night, and as the crew set forth a storm whipped up fierce, blowin’ against ‘em.
I know storms. I’ve stood on deck with the wind tearin’ at me coat, waves crashin’ over the rail, and no star in the sky to guide me. The sea’s got a way o’ exposin’ a man’s soul.
Them disciples rowed hard but got nowhere. Same in me life. I have rowed hard, sailed hard, lived hard. And what have I to show for it all? A dance with the hempen jig. A short drop and a sudden stop. Swingin’ in the breeze, as it were.
But just then Jesus came to ‘em walkin’ on the water.
Walkin’, I say, as if it were dry land—just like the Hebrews crossin’ the Red Sea. Aye, that’s the connection, we be meant to find, is it not? First time, God parted the sea. This time, He walked atop it.
Bid Me Come to Ye
Peter, fearin’ he spied a ghost, then hearin’ the call of Jesus, spake bold as a clap of thunder: “Lord, if it’s you, bid me come to you on the water.”
And Jesus says, “Come.”
That be me, mate. That be me whole voyage. Sailin’ into storms and now with the sound of waves crashing against rocks near me cell, I need a miracle—a way to walk on air. Me fate an soul be in the hands of God, now.
I started out with good wind and royal backing. Commissioned by king and governor to hunt pirates in the name o’ justice. Sailed the Adventure Galley, finest vessel I’d ever seen. Me letter of marque signed and sealed.
But storms came. Me crew fell to disease. The gold never showed. The seas grew dark. I made choices—aye, hard ones. Took the Quedagh Merchant under French pass and English debate. They called it piracy. I called it duty. But who listens to a wee seaman when the Crown needs a scapegoat?
So here I sit, penning me last words for the souls who may think it rich to go piratin’. Aye, theivin’, and murderin’ be the devil’s business and long have I served him.
The Loaves, the Leftovers, and Hardened Hearts
The young lad John Mark writes that even after all they had seen, the disciples were amazed to see Jesus walking on water, for they had not understood about the loaves and their hearts were hardened. Hard from shame, perhaps? Because they doubted and Jesus proved ’em wrong? Because Jesus expected ’em to work miracles and they failed? He could. They should. Oh but that we would, for if it were so—if I could—I’d walk free from this cell.
I understand what the Twelve missed. Jesus took me chains and me shame and now I ‘ill live forever. But only after this death to come.
The loaves weren’t only food—they showed Jesus to be the Bread from Heaven, the new Manna, given not once, but every day, for ’em what follow Him. Even to the likes o’ me.
Me whole life, I chased treasure—gold in the hold, silver in the purse. But the true treasure was always this: the Bread of Life, broken and given for sinners like me.
And Immediately, They Reached the Shore
John says that when they welcomed Jesus into the boat, immediately they reached the shore.
In a few moments, I will reach shore and meet my maker. Question be, on which shore will I stand? The Lake of Fire or River of Life. God knows I be sinking. Oh Lord Jesus, catch me!
Signed in faith, under the shadow of the gallows,
☠️ Captain William Kidd, privateer, sinner, and I pray saved by Jesus