by Hank Manley
Warren and Mary, still attired in male garb, said goodbye to Master Oakes and stepped ashore on one of the many wooden piers lining the shores of Nassau. Clumps of rotting seaweed undulated with the wavelets around the pilings, giving off an unpleasant odor.
The dirt street paralleling the waterfront was littered with garbage. A shallow trench ran down the center of the lane. The ditch flowed with the sewage of the various adjacent ramshackle buildings.
Warren wrinkled his nose at the malodorous scent. “This place stinks,” he said simply.
Conchshell trotted along at Warren’s feet holding her head high. The Labrador’s natural instinct to sniff every inch of the journey for the presence of wild animals and fellow dogs was blunted by the overpowering smell of human waste.
Mary nodded her head in agreement. “There be only a few people who actually live here full time and call this their home,” she said. “The ones who do live here be tavern owners or work on the ships as carpenters. The pirates generally stay only to rest and repair their vessels and plan another adventure.”
Evening was approaching. “I’m hungry,” Warren said. “Is there a place we can find something to eat? Do they have restaurants here?”
Mary smiled and nudged Warren playfully in the ribs with an elbow. “I have some more coins,” she said. “I haven’t forgotten ye be a growing young man. Come, we’ll go to the Royal Arms Tavern. They cook an excellent fish dinner.”
“The Royal Arms Tavern,” Warren said. “That sounds fancy.”
“Nay, me good friend,” Mary laughed. “Only the name be fancy.”
The two intrepid pirates walked past a dozen filthy taverns along Nassau’s front street before turning into the wooden single story building that housed the Royal Arms Tavern. They walked through the dark interior and emerged on to an expansive deck cantilevered over the water. They sat on bench seats at a long table adjacent to a railing that surrounded the platform.
A forlorn woman with stringy hair and tired eyes approached. A filthy apron was tied around her waist. She was barefoot. “What be thy pleasure?” she asked in a sad voice.
“Have ye fresh fish this evening?” Mary inquired.
“Aye, laddie.”
“It be fish for us and a fat lamb bone for the dog, if ye would be so kind,” Mary said.
The waitress nodded and disappeared.
A short time later she reappeared with a large plate in her hands. An entire grouper, gutted and steamed to perfection, the head and tail still attached, covered the platter.
The old woman smiled, her few remaining teeth dark and worn. She pulled a bone from her apron pocket and handed it to Conchshell. The Labrador happily clamped her jaws on the offering and dropped beneath the table to begin chewing.
The two youngsters lustily delved into their dinner.
“This is the best fish I’ve ever eaten,” Warren acknowledged as he licked his fingers with satisfaction. No utensils were available for dining.
“I vouch it were swimming not an hour ago,” Mary said.
“Who’s the character that just entered the tavern?” Warren asked idly. “Have you ever seen him before in your travels?”
Mary turned and looked in the direction of Warren’s gaze. “That would be the pirate captain Calico Jack Rackman,” Mary said. “He favors the colorful cotton pants that gave him his name. I met him at the Wells two times in the past year.”
Calico Jack wandered past several tables filled with customers until he spotted the empty seats across from Mary and Warren. “Ahoy, lads,” he said in a cheery voice. “Be that the young pirate Marty Read of Blackbeard’s crew I spy?”
“Aye, captain,” Mary replied. “And this be me good friend Warren.”
Warren stood and extended his hand in greeting. His eyes engaged Calico Jack directly. The captain was a handsome man with a dashing exuberance to his manner. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Warren said.
Calico Jack looked nonplussed for a moment, and then shook Warren’s hand. “A keen lad ye have for a friend, I vouch,” he said. “Where be me old compatriot Captain Teach?”
“Blackbeard be sailing for Ocracoake,” Mary said. “The captain thinks the bounty be good along the Carolina coast.”
Calico Jack shook his head in disagreement. “The bounty be best near Port Royal, Jamaica,” he said. “That be the place where the British ships transfer the gold from Panama.”
“Why don’t we all sail there?” Mary asked simply. “I’ve not enough gold yet to retire from me chosen profession.”
A new serving wench walked past the table and paused. A soiled bandana was wrapped around her head, but strands of greasy hair hung limply along her temples. Her face needed scrubbing and her clothes were tattered and smudged. “Three flagons of grog for ye gentlemen?” she asked in a weary voice.
Captain Jack nodded his acquiescence. “Aye, wench,” he said. “I’ll have a flagon.”
Warren looked at Mary and shrugged. “What are you having?” he asked.
“Some rum and pineapple juice for me,” Mary said to the waitress. “Just some juice for me friend. I don’t think he favors rum yet.”
The wench grunted her understanding and left the table.
“You be talking of Port Royal, Captain Jack?” Mary prompted. “Let’s take thy ship and sail where the riches are ripe for picking. I have taken me leave of Blackbeard and his crew.”
“Me thinks it time to take the pardon,” Calico Jack said seriously. “The offer will not last forever. Ye should give it consideration thyself. Thy head be too handsome to lose.”
“Aye, lad,” a young woman’s voice sang across the din of the busy tavern. “I agree. You’ve the most beautiful head of all the lads in Nassau.”
Calico Jack, Warren and Mary turned simultaneously to look at the speaker. Standing unsteadily behind Mary was a strikingly attractive young woman with long platinum hair, creamy skin, light blue eyes slightly dazed with intoxication, and a sword strapped around her waist. A tall mug of liquor was clutched in one hand.
“I pray there’s no objection to me company,” the young woman said as she sat beside Mary Read and draped an arm familiarly around her shoulder.
Mary flinched in discomfort but hesitated to remove the uninvited limb for fear of appearing rude. “Who may thee be?” she asked. “I’ve not seen ye in Nassau or on the high seas.”
The young blonde smiled and lifted her container of alcohol. She put the mug to her lips and took a long swallow. “Anne Bonny be me name,” she said. “I’ve not long ago come to Nassau from South Carolina with me husband James Bonny.”
Calico Jack leaned across the table and looked at the intruder to their table. “Me name be Captain Jack Rackman. Where be this husband of yours?” he asked boldly. “I think I’ve heard the name. Is he not a spy for Governor Rogers?”
“Aye, that be the one. I left him back . . . back there,” Anne said as she waved a hand vaguely in the air, signifying her strong disinterest in her husband’s whereabouts. “James Bonny be a ne’er-do-well, a coward, and a poor excuse for a husband.”
Warren’s eyes opened wide in amazement at the stranger’s blatant indictment of her husband. The young man’s experience with marriage was limited to observations of the interplay between his parents and friends of his parents. Almost universally, the adults were supportive and loving of one another. This was the first time he had witnessed outright hostility from one spouse toward another.
The serving wench returned with brimming containers of drinks. She dropped the flagons on the table carelessly. Liquid sloshed over the brims of the earthen mugs and ran across the already sticky table.
Mary Read nervously reached for her rum and juice and took a sip. Anne Bonny’s arm remained around Mary’s shoulders. Emboldened with alcohol, the blonde girl slipped closer and increased t
he pressure of her hug. Gentle finger squeezes accompanied the embrace.
“Who be this handsome lad?” Anne inquired as she pointed her drink in Warren’s direction. “Be ye a fierce pirate of the high seas like Calico Jack Rackman?”
Warren sat speechless. He felt an unexpected pang of jealousy as he witnessed Anne’s tender cuddling of Mary’s body. He couldn’t frame a response.
Mary came to his rescue. “This young man be a brave and smart seafarer,” she said with obvious pride. “It be Warren who saved me from the angry militia mob. It be Warren who tended me wounds. And it be Warren who managed Blackbeard’s escape from the jail in Charles Town.”
Calico Jack slapped the table with his hand. “Blackbeard be captured?” he exclaimed. “By the heavens, that news be all I need to hear. If Captain Edward Teach be able to be caught, it be time to give up the life I love. Tomorrow I see Governor Rogers and ask for me pardon.”
Anne Bonny drained off a large swallow of her drink. Her hand was unsteady as it returned the container to the table. “Tomorrow will be here soon enough,” she exclaimed as she moved her arm to Mary’s neck and began caressing the soft skin affectionately. “It be tonight that I care about. Drink with me, lads, me three new friends. The famous Calico Jack Rackman, young Warren, and . . . and thee . . . thee never told me thy name.”
~32~
Mary Read turned on the bench seat until she faced Anne Bonny directly. She looked into the beautiful blonde’s face that was glowing with a combination of inebriation and mounting lust. She gently lifted Anne’s arm from her neck and placed it chastely in the girl’s lap.
“Me name be Mary,” she said calmly. “I be very much a woman like yourself.”
Anne Bonny stared directly at Mary Read for several seconds. Her expression didn’t change. The girl’s shock and confusion froze her thinking, and she was initially unable to grasp the meaning of Mary’s words. Slowly a smile crept across Anne’s mouth. Her lips turned upward at the edges. Finally she burst into laughter.
“By the gods above,” she roared. “I be falling in love with a woman. It must be the grog and the failure of me husband that another person can turn me head so quickly.”
Mary broke into a broad smile. Relief flooded her face. “I’ve been dressing as a man for a long time,” she said. “And I’ve had to think like one, too. But lately I’ve been thinking like a woman, and so thy interest was quite a surprise to me. But I’m happy to meet ye . . . a fellow woman of the sea. I vouch we can be friends.”
Captain Jack Rackman pounded the table with his fist in glee and laughed uproariously. “In heaven’s name, young Anne Bonny, ye be a woman after me own heart. I admire a girl with passion and boldness of character, and that certainly be ye.”
Warren looked at Anne Bonny with fascination. She was gorgeous, but he had seen many beautiful women in his life, including his mother. What struck the young man was her aggressiveness. He thought the characteristic was laudable, but at the same time he felt slightly discomforted. He shifted his attention to Mary.
Warren felt a sense of relief that Mary had revealed herself to Anne. He had experienced pangs of jealousy when Anne first displayed affection toward Mary. Why should he care, he wondered? Mary meant nothing to him romantically, or did she? The young man’s antenna for receiving female signals was not yet sufficiently developed to decipher Mary’s subtle, nuanced explorations.
“Where are you from, Anne,” Warren asked, partly in genuine curiosity and partly to return the conversation to a less sensitive subject.
“I be a bastard,” Anne said with a resigned laugh. “Me father be William Cormack of Kinsdale County Cork, Ireland. He enjoyed a dalliance with our maid Mary Brennan, who be me mother. When me father’s wife discovered the affair, she ruined me father’s reputation in Ireland, and he and me mother fled to South Carolina.”
Mary placed a hand sympathetically on Anne’s shoulder. “Ye be just like me,” she said with a smile. “I too be a bastard.”
Anne chuckled. “I knew I would like thee,” she said. “We be sisters after all.” Raising her hand, Anne summoned the serving wench and ordered another round of drinks.
“Me father wanted to make me a proper woman of society in Charles Town,” Anne continued. “He kept me at home waiting for acceptable suitors to call at the estate. But I be a restless sort. I longed for adventure. When James Bonny came to court, I saw me way out from me father’s control. I married the worthless cad, and we fled to Nassau. That be three months ago.”
“So you’ve been a pirate for three months,” Warren said. “What ships have you sailed on?”
Anne took a deep drink from her fresh, brimming flagon. She closed her eyes and shook her head in disgust. “I’ve not been aboard a ship since I left Carolina with me husband. I found out he’s no pirate. He lacks the courage to secure a ship and crew and go to sea. I’ve been sitting in this stinking place, drinking the rum and grog, and waiting to find a proper man.”
Calico Jack puffed up his chest and opened his hands in invitation. “Tis a shame I be thinking of taking the governor’s pardon and abandoning the ways of the pirate. I vouch ye would make a splendid pirate, Anne Bonny. Ye have the gumption and courage, that be plain to see.”
* * *
“Anne Bonny, where be you in this miserable establishment?” James Bonny shouted above the din of voices pervading the Royal Arms Tavern. “Why are thee not at home preparing thy husband a proper repast?”
Anne Bonny’s husband stood in the entrance of the decrepit tavern, a surly scowl plastered on his thin, ferret-like face, his hands placed defiantly on his hips.
Mary looked with disbelief at the bony young man approaching their table. “That be your husband?” she asked, barely able to suppress a laugh.
“Aye, Mary,” Anne replied. “That be me husband. But by the heavens above, I vouch I’ve spent the last night with the likes of him.”
James Bonny stopped in front of his wife and pointed an accusatory finger directly in her face. “What be thee doing in this den of iniquity?” he shouted. “Why be thee partaking of grog with these strangers? Is this proper conduct for a married woman? Have thee no respect for thy husband?”
Anne Bonny stood and confronted her husband. She reached out and placed a protective arm around both Mary’s and Calico Jack’s shoulders. “These be no strangers,” she said defiantly. “These be me friends. Be off with thee. Leave me to drink with me shipmates.”
“Thee would rather be with these . . . these ruffians than home with thy husband,” James said angrily. His voice sounded immature and petulant.
“Tis so,” Anne said without hesitation. “I tire of thy childish ways and false promises of adventure. I cast thee out and pledge me lot with friends such as Mary and Warren and Calico Jack. From this day forward, I swear to the gods, I have no husband.”
“I’ll not hear of such blasphemy from me wife,” James said. “Thee pledged thyself to me at our wedding, though we snuck away and married in the middle of the night. Thee can not renege thy vows.”
Anne raised her flagon of grog and drained the last of the liquid. She hoisted the empty container as if making a solemn toast. “Remove thyself from me sight,” she said. “From this day forward, we no longer be husband and wife. I choose to remain with Captain Calico Jack.”
Jack Rackman allowed a tight smile to cross his face. His future appeared to have changed before his eyes in the space of a few minutes. He wasn’t certain the new direction was for the better, but he realized that his life would be potentially more exciting than it had ever been before.
James Bonny dropped his head. The humiliation was mortifying. His wife had publicly renounced their marriage in front of dozens of pirates and buccaneers. The lowly wenches serving rum and grog in the tavern had heard the rejection. There would be nowhere on the island James could walk wit
hout somebody looking at him and laughing at his shame.
The spurned husband stormed from the Royal Arms Tavern. His mind spun with possibilities to destroy his wife and her friends for the devastating disgrace he had just experienced.
Anne Bonny hailed the serving wench and signaled for another round of drinks.
~33~
Warren woke aboard Captain Calico Jack Rackman’s frigate Vanity. His head ached. Following the departure of Anne Bonny’s husband James from the rollicking King’s Arms Tavern, the fiery young woman had insisted the young pirate properly toast her new status as a single woman with a drop of rum in his pineapple juice. One drop turned to several drops, and one flagon of the concoction became three.
The taste was not unpleasant. The effects, though gradual, were manifest. Warren heard himself talking more than usual. Mundane comments by Anne and Mary suddenly seemed wildly humorous. Jack Rackman’s pronouncements about life as a pirate carried significant gravitas. Warren’s attitude toward Mary became bolder. At one poignant moment he leaned over, gripped her shoulder with his hand, and kissed her on the cheek.
Mary became playful and suggestive. She cuddled Warren when he said something clever. She raised her eyebrows and laughed when he unexpectedly delivered his kiss. Her fingers beckoned him closer, suggesting her interest in additional intimacies, but Warren pulled away with a blush of embarrassment. Mary seemed genuinely sorry the impromptu gesture of affection had been terminated.
An Irish harpist arrived later in the evening and entertained the merry crowd with well-known tunes such as the mournful I’ll Never Love Thee More and Maggie Laidir. Warren was swept up in the spirit of the plaintive love songs and inched closer to Mary on the bench seat. He looked at her and sighed. Puzzling passions surged through his youthful soul, and he struggled to make sense of the new emotions.
Mary interrupted his mental gymnastics. “Come, Warren,” she said suddenly. “Let me teach thee the Irish jig.” Together, the two young pirates dashed toward the front of the tavern. The young woman took Warren’s hands in hers and led him in a vigorous rendition of the traditional Irish dance.
