Colonial Archives: Jones Beach Namesake Linked to Pirate Heist

New York's most visited state park carries the name of a man who may have helped one of history's most notorious pirates escape justice. James Bailey, an amateur historian and retired Rhode Island corrections official, has analyzed colonial-era documents that link Thomas Jones, the namesake of Jones Beach, to the 1695 raid on the royal Indian ship Ganj-i-Sawai.

Bailey, who gained attention five years ago after uncovering ancient coins tied to English pirate Captain Henry Every, says new evidence points to Jones as a key figure in the aftermath of the attack. The documents, which include depositions from Every's associates, indicate that Jones was recruited to act as a getaway driver. His role was to help the crew evade authorities after they stole tens of millions of dollars in modern value, specifically gold and silver.

The raid on the Ganj-i-Sawai in the Red Sea resulted in the torture, murder, and rape of the ship's crew. This violence sparked global outrage and triggered what historians describe as the first worldwide manhunt. While some pirates were captured and executed, Henry Every and many others vanished. They are believed to have scattered across Europe and the American colonies, leaving their fates uncertain for centuries.

Jones was a military major in the English army before moving to the American colonies. He initially settled in Rhode Island but later became a wealthy landowner and business proprietor in New York. By the time of the raid, he had established a whaling operation on the barrier beach on Long Island that now bears his name. Local history books have long hinted at his checkered past, but the specific connection to Every had remained unconfirmed until now.

John Hanc, author of "Jones Beach: An Illustrated History," notes that Bailey's research fleshes out a part of Jones' life that was previously only alluded to in local records. Hanc states that the findings shed light on Jones' background, which local historians had long suspected but could not fully verify with primary sources.

Meagan Schulman, a doctoral candidate at Fordham University specializing in 17th-century piracy, explains the distinction between privateers and pirates. She notes that privateers were authorized by the crown to raid rival ships during wartime, but lost that status when peace returned. Those who continued raiding were branded pirates. Schulman argues that Jones likely did not see himself as a pirate, even if his actions fit the definition.

Following the raid, Jones briefly returned to Rhode Island before receiving a fresh start in New York. In 1696, his father-in-law, Thomas Townsend, gifted him and his wife a large tract of land on Long Island's south shore. Property records confirm this transfer. Bailey posits that this land grant allowed Jones to rebuild his life while authorities continued to search for Every in pirate-friendly New England.

New York's colonial governor, Richard Coote, investigated Jones in 1698 as part of an effort to root out piracy. Citing witness depositions, Coote wrote that a "barrel of money" traveled from New York City to Long Island and ended up at Jones' house. Coote described Jones as "formerly a pirate." Jones testified that he knew nothing about the barrel, but the governor's investigation highlighted his suspicious proximity to the stolen wealth.

Richard Blakemore, a maritime history professor at the University of Reading in the United Kingdom, cautions that Bailey's findings are compelling but not conclusive. He notes that Thomas Jones is a common name. Kevin McDonald, a history professor at Loyola Marymount University, agrees that the evidence is interesting. He suggests that the case illustrates how piracy provided foundational wealth for many prominent families in the Northeast, challenging the popular image of pirates as outcasts.

Jones died in 1713, and rumors about his fortune persisted long after his death. His mansion was rumored to be haunted, and his grave was repeatedly desecrated by robbers searching for buried treasure. A 1906 family history dismissed these tales as slander. Today, millions of visitors walk the sands of Jones Beach, unaware of the violent history that helped build the fortune of its namesake.