Nosy Boraha, Madagascar

I know, you’re probably wondering why I would head to the northwest of Madagascar to hang out on a resort island, then cross the country to visit another island on its eastern side? Such is the case when you have to follow the shape of a lemur route. You go where the tail is swishing, and it so happens that the direction led me to the west and then to the east. Of course, you can never have enough island life, with squeaky white beaches, crystal waters, swaying palms and eternal sunshine.

To expedite my journey, I took a direct flight back from Nosy Be to the capital. Then, I transferred to another flight directly to Nosy Boraha. 

This slender tropical island, also known as Île Sainte-Marie, measures about 30mi (49km) long and 3mi (5km) wide. It is known for being the breeding ground of humpback whales due to its warm waters, but what draws me here is its legendary pirate history of the 17th and 18th centuries. 

One such pirate was Olivier Levasseur, nicknamed La Buse, meaning ‘The Buzzard’. It was a well-earned name, built on the way he closed in on his victims with swift, calculated precision. As terrifying as he might have been, La Buse’s pirating came to a grim end when he was captured by the French and hanged on the island of Réunion in 1730. But not before he added one final twist to his legend—he supposedly tossed a cryptic coded message into the crowd. He shouted, “Find my treasure, the one who may understand it!” No one ever cracked the code, and the treasure is still missing. 

Most pirates end with a dramatic end unless you’re Henry Every (aka Avery), dubbed ‘The King of Pirates’ for being one of the few pirates who got away with the loot and was never captured. His piratical career was short-lived, just two years (1694–1696) before he disappeared, but, as expected, quite colourful. He began his maritime career as a first mate on the warship Charles II. When the ship's owners failed to pay the crew their wages while docked in Spain, they mutinied, took control of the ship, renamed it Fancy, and set off for the Indian Ocean to plunder merchant vessels, marking the beginning of his infamous career as a pirate. His greatest plunder was the 1695 attack on a 25-ship convoy belonging to India’s Mughal Empire en route to Mecca for the Hajj pilgrimage. Laden with an inconceivably large cargo of metals and jewellery, Every and a squadron of pirate ships captured the convoy, lightening its load of precious treasure valued in today’s terms at around £115 million. No one knows what happened to Every. Sometime in 1696, he simply disappeared from records.

Nosy Boraha’s hidden coves, fresh water, and location along busy trade routes made it the perfect pirate refuge. At the height of its notoriety, the island is believed to have sheltered up to a thousand pirates. Some, like Every and La Buse, stayed only as long as their luck held. Others settled more permanently, marrying local Malagasy women and forming semi-rooted communities.

One of the most evocative remnants of this swashbuckling era lies in a palm-shaded cemetery near the island’s only town, Ambodifotatra, said to be the final resting place of several pirates. At least 30 weathered headstones lean at odd angles, some engraved with a skull and crossbones, such as that of Joseph Pierre Le Chartier, although a nearby information board attempts to dispel the myth that he was ever a pirate. Many more were buried here, but cyclones, floods, and soil erosion have washed most away, and over time, looters have disturbed the site in search of buried treasure. Maybe they still believe La Buse’s hoard is somewhere nearby or six feet under. 

As I walk along the coast, passing beneath swaying palms, I catch myself glancing at the ground, half-hoping to spot some clue — a faded engraving on a rock, a corner of parchment tucked in the roots. Maybe it’s foolish, but maybe, just maybe, the treasure's still out there.