A coy preface and a short dedication to W. B. Shubrick frame a rueful, mildly satirical narration in which an anonymous Writer promises fidelity to truth (not strict chronology) and warns readers against pedantry. The tale is planted in autumn 1759 at Newport, Rhode Island — a genteel maritime town at the height of colonial loyalty, a “Garden of America” where Puritan thrift and southern ease mingle, producing merchants who are at once slave-dealers and gentlemen. The social texture is rendered in vignettes: Hector Homespun the tailor, Joe Joram of the “Foul Anchor,” local seamen, and a cast of gossiping townsfolk supply color and motive.

Into this port come three strangers: the striking young mariner Harry (Henry) Wilder, two hardened seamen (one white and the negro Scipio), and a rakish barrister-like man in green who proves the notorious freebooter called the Red Rover. Conversation about a mysterious slaver at anchor — thought by some to be the Rover’s ship, the Dolphin — propels suspicion and action. Wilder alternately observes and acts: he is recruited by the Rover while also taking temporary command of the Bristol trader Royal Caroline when her master is disabled. Two loyalties collide: the Rover’s tempting camaraderie and Wilder’s immediate duty to protect passengers (notably Mrs Wyllys and her charge Gertrude).

A protracted nocturnal passage heightens nautical superstition — talk of flying Dutchmen and presaging lights — and an elusive misty sail to leeward unnerves the crew. A catastrophic squall follows: Wilder’s skillful but violent handling strains the Caroline; topmasts and spars fail, mates like Earing perish, and mutiny erupts. Superstition and self-preservation, abetted by Nighthead’s machinations, send most of the crew away in the best boat; the Caroline founders and a scant company survive in a hastily rigged launch. Dawn reveals the pinnace swamped; a passing armed ship rescues Wilder and the women.

That vessel is the Dolphin under the Rover (Captain Heidegger in part-disguise): cosmopolitan freebooters, ferocious yet disciplined; the Rover himself is cultured, musical, and paradoxically humane. Shipboard life mixes revels, staged cruelty, and capricious justice. When a royal cruiser, the Dart, appears, the Rover — masquerading as “Captain Howard” — ingratiates himself with Captain Bignall; a fragile civility leads to a banquet. Wilder, caught between duty and sympathy, is accused of treason ashore. Negotiation collapses, the Dolphin sheds its deceit, and a fierce battle ensues: Dart is grievously mauled, Bignall falls, Scipio dies defending comrades, and Wilder is taken.

At the crisis the Rover tempers vengeance: he disperses plunder, commutes many punishments, and soon destroys his own ship, removing himself from further deeds. Years later, dying in a New England household, he confesses ties to the de Lacey family, reclaims a last shred of honor, and dies. The narrative closes on recurrent themes: the sea’s unpredictability, the fragile line between lawful service and outlawry, the ambiguity of appearances and professions, and the possibility of late repentance.