Fanny (67 page)

Horatio was adept at slicing Noses and Ears with great Display of Blood but few Mortal Wounds. I would scramble up the Masts to cut away the Rigging, and disable the Prey, making good her speedy Surrender. Few Spanish Sailors would risque their Lives for Plate and Jewels consign’d to haughty Hidalgos they hated. We took the
Guarda del Costa
with her full Cargo of Booty—Gold Dust, Emeralds, and abundant Bars of Silver. My double Share of that alone made me quite rich but, alas, it did not restore Belinda.

A most curious Incident occurr’d whilst we were dividing up the Plunder after our successful Engagement with the
Guarda del Costa.
Each of the Deputy Captains had come aboard the
Happy Delivery
to receive their Men’s Share of the Booty, which consisted, in part, of Bags of rough-hewn Emeralds. Having counted ’em all, Horatio determin’d we could spare five per Man, consid’ring the double Shares for me and Lancelot as first to Board and Fleet Commander, respectively. But after sharing out the Gems—which were all of small or middling Size—he found himself down to the last Man on the List, with only one Emerald remaining, but that one being of prodigious Size. Where the other Emeralds had been but half-or quarter’inch across, this one was perhaps ten Inches wide and weigh’d more heavy in the Hand than many common Rocks. The Pyrate Captain of the
Bijoux
, a gruff, uneducated Man, objected when he drew this great Gem as his Share.

“Damme!” cried he, “the others had five Stones an’ I’ve but one!” Nor would he rest until Horatio took a Mallet and shatter’d this precious Emerald to tiny Bits so he could have his five!

I tell this Tale merely to illustrate the sort of Men our Pyrates were: rough-hewn Rogues who knew not that one great and hefty Stone was worth a dozen small! Literal they were and shrunken of Mind, and the Chance of building a Deocracy with them seem’d slim indeed. We were growing richer Day by Day, yet we were scarcely melding into a true
Communitas.
Horatio and I both knew that Lancelot’s Dreams of a New Jerusalem were daft—at least with these Men—but did Lancelot yet know? ’Twas true that Lancelot was changing before my very Eyes; he was proud of my Pyrate Prowess and oft’ deferr’d to my Advice and Counsel. Still, did he see, as I did, the Danger of Rebellion by our scurvy Pyrate Colleagues?
That
could neither I nor Horatio rightly say. Our Hold was cramm’d with Precious Jewels and Gold, yet daily our Dreams seem’d further away!

Moreo’er, tho’ as Pyrates Fortune smil’d on us, as Lovers ’twas quite another Matter. Horatio, Lancelot, and I slept in the Great Cabin of the
Happy Delivery
, eyeing each other with unrequited Lust. Lancelot would not allow Horatio to make love to me; Horatio would not allow Lancelot to make love to me; and I forbade ’em to make love to each other on Pain of Death! I had not been taught the Use of Cutlass for nought! I would wield my Cutlass in Defence of my own Honour, if not yet to seize Belinda. Thus, we three kept an uneasy Truce at Sea, sleeping in our separate Berths in the same Cabin, and yearning for each other.

“We could make Love as three,” Lancelot would sigh. “Such Things are known ’neath Heaven….”

“Not on your Life!” Horatio would rejoin. But should Horatio make a Move to caress Lancelot, I would most heatedly protest. Ah, it made our Tempers keen for Battle—all this unrequited Love and Lust—and we three vented on the Prey the Fury that we could not spend in Bed!

’Twas clear that Things could not continue thus, fore’er more, and a most Fateful Encounter at Sea brought Matters swiftly to a Head.

We were still in the South Atlantick, at a Latitude of about eighteen degrees, and nearing, with Fair Winds (Horatio said), the flat Isle of Anegado, with its Five-Mile Reefs, which stand as Nature’s Barriers betwixt the Atlantick and the Caribee. Here Sir Francis Drake had found a Passage, which now bore his Name, and here, in those Isles they call’d the Virgin Isles, were many uninhabited Keys with Fair Anchorages, where Ships as large as ours might hide, sending smaller Ships to raid the Shipping Roads. Here might we find our Tropick Pyrate Isle, to make our
Libertalia
, or here, at least, might we ride at Anchor in a hidden Cove whilst a Landing Party in a swifter Sloop, the
Bijoux
perhaps, set out in search of the
Cassandra
.

The Winds were fair, and Horatio thought to make the Isle of Anegado in a few Days. The Passages were perilous; many Ships had wreckt themselves upon the Reefs; but Horatio, having sail’d this Way before, claim’d he knew the proper Tacks to take to sail about the Isle and ride at Anchor in a pleasant Bay. He also had a practis’d Eye for spotting Reefs ’neath the Sea.

But none of these Plans was to come to pass; for as we sail’d the Open Ocean we chanced to spy within our Glass a most curious Ship, and she hail’d us upon the Seas, as if in Distress.

She was a strange-looking Vessel, Frigate-built and broad of Beam, with Oar Holes like an Ancient Galleass; she mounted thirty Guns, and her Fo’c’sle seem’d a Mighty Fortress. Three-masted she was, and square-rigg’d on all three, but flying a Jib and Lateen Sail as well; with so much Sail, she lookt a fast Ship despite her Bulk. O she was a Sight to see, nor did she seem disabl’d.

“By Jove,” Horatio said—for he was first to spy her: “If I didn’t know that Captain Kidd was dead, I’d say that was the
Adventure Galley
, and sailing her, the Ghost of Captain Kidd!”

“How so, Horatio?” I askt, as he climb’d down the Mast, Spying-Glass in Hand.

“Kidd had a Ship like that—the fam’d
Adventure Galley
—and ’twas said she could do fourteen Knots under Sail, and three with Oars if she should be becalm’d. I ne’er have seen the like of such a Ship nor do I trust her by the Look of her. She means us Harm, I’ll warrant.”

“An’ shall we neglect a Sister Ship in dire Distress?” askt Lancelot.

“Wherefore Distress?” disputed Horatio. “She signals Distress, yet looks she sound as we—for as Tully says—”

“Stuff Tully up yer Arse,” says Lancelot, “an’ hail our Sister Ship!”

“Begging your Pardon, Captain Mine,” says Horatio with heavy Irony, “but I’ll not sail heedless into Danger—I, who am the very Tacitus of Buccaneering!”

“Oho, then is it Mutiny, me Boy?” cried Lancelot.

“Call it what you will,” Horatio said.

I fear’d the two would come to Blows, so I stepp’d in.

“Why not hoist a Flag to test her?” I propos’d. For we, like many Pyrate Ships, and Privateers as well, carried Flags of all Nations to beguile our Prey.

“An’ which one should we hoist?” askt Lancelot.

“Why not the Mighty British Lion?” said I.

Horatio concurr’d, as did Lancelot—another Brawl betwixt ’em averted!—and we hoisted up the beauteous British Flag; whereupon the strange Frigate did the same!

“’Tis a Fetch!” Horatio cried.

“O ye of little Faith!” cried Lancelot.

“She’s coming about!” Horatio said. “Shall we stand here like lubberly Poltroons or board her ere she essays to board us! If that’s a crippl’d Ship, I’ll eat my Hat!”

“Prepare the Cannon,” I counsell’d, “but do not fire!”

The Frigate was coming at us so rapidly that there was no Time to consult the other Ships regarding this Engagement.

“Hoist the Pyrate Flag!” I cried, whilst Lancelot merely stood back and left these Decisions to me.

Our Pyrate Colours were struck; whereupon we saw a Sight surpassing strange: the other Ship struck Pyrate Colours, too!

Her Flag was black as Night; upon it were cross’d Cutlasses ’neath a Skull. But what was curious about this Skull was that it clutch’d a Rose betwixt its Teeth—like some Saucy Wench!

The Frigate gain’d on us; we fear’d for our Lives. She had more Sail than our poor Brigantine, more Cannon, too, and certainly a stronger Fo’c’sle. Why, ’twas a Fortress in itself! O should we, after all our Days at Sea, be taken by Pyrates better-arm’d than we? Desp’rately, we tried to signal to the Rest of our Flotilla.

“Hoist the Signal Halyards!” I cried.

’Twas swiftly done, but not one of the other Ships came about to aid us.

“Mutiny!” shouted Lancelot. “Mutiny!”

As I have said, I’d fear’d for some Time that if we were e’er in grave Danger, our Deputy Skippers would view our Demise with Complacency, and so ’twas true; they made no Move to aid us. I’faith, it seem’d they broke Formation and sail’d away.

Now the Frigate was coming about and making ready to board us from the Bow in the same Pyrate Style we had so oft’ us’d ourselves! We saw her Name—’twas odd: the
Three Spoon Galley
; and she had all her Cannon ripe for Fire. Upon her Decks and Shrouds were so many Pyrates that e’en with our swollen Crew, we were outclass’d. But as she came for us, we spy’d upon the Bowsprit, standing like some glorious Figurehead, a beauteous red-headed Wench with a rais’d Cutlass in her Hand! What’s more, she had a silken Rose betwixt her Teeth!

Horatio rais’d his Pistol to dispatch her; Lancelot stay’d his Hand.

“Hold!” Lancelot said. “Can I believe me Eyes? ’Tis Annie Bonny, as I live an’ breathe! ’Tis the beauteous Pyrate Queen herself!”

At those last Words, Jealousy leapt in my Breast. I stood there on the Deck in Danger for my very Life and I could think of nothing but the Loss of
my
red Hair, how shabby I must look before this Beauty, and how much I coveted the Title “Pyrate Queen”!

Now the Bowsprit of the
Three Spoon Galley
came across our Waist on the Port Side and the beauteous Pyrate leap’d upon our Deck, follow’d by a Boarding Party of twelve. I deem’d us done for now, and secretly I curst Lancelot’s soft Heart. Would I (and e’en poor lost Belinda) be sacrificed to his Stupidity? O damn Lancelot and his Thieves’ Honour! What a soft-headed Nit-Wit he was!

Two Pyrates seiz’d me; two seiz’d Horatio and two were making ready to seize Lancelot, when lo! the Pyrate Queen seem’d all at once to recognize the Admiral of our Fleet, and running to him, fell upon her Knees and kiss’d his Feet, crying out, “Lancelot the Brave! Yer Fame hath gone afore ye! I salute a Fellow Pyrate an’ Colleague o’ the Seas!”

In a trice, the Pyrates who were holding us fell back; Lancelot beam’d with Vanity; Horatio breath’d a deep-fetch’d Sigh of Relief, and I—I was consum’d with Jealousy!

I saw how her Words made Lancelot primp and preen; I saw, when she fell upon her Knee, how her Breasts were large as Tropick Melons (and loosely held within her Stays) and how Lancelot lookt at ’em! I fancied she had no scarr’d Belly, no Children at all to stretch her Breasts, and O I coveted her Hair—so like my former Curls—and O, O, O I coveted her Ship as well! More Sail I could forgive, more Cannon e’en, but more Hair, ne’er! I wisht her dead with all my Heart and Soul, yet I smil’d and took her Hand when introduced, and fell before her in a Curtsey so profound, you’d think I’d met the Queen herself!

“Annie Bonny as I live an’ breathe, I ne’er thought to see yer own Sweet Self on Land or Sea,” said Lancelot. “I heard tell ye were tried in Jamaica an’ sentenced to be hang’d.”

“Jack Rackham was hang’d—the cowardly Dog—” said she, “but I could plead me Great Belly an’, i’faith, was later pardon’d. We Women have so many Disadvantages that we may as well take those few Advantages Nature herself provides—why, I have both me Babes at Sea with me—in trainin’ to be Pyrates!”

I listen’d wide-eyed to this Tale. Would that I had my Babe at Sea with me! O I envision’d my own Sweet Belinda playing in the commodious Hold of a Pyrate’s Treasure Galleon, prattling and drooling amidst Piles of Emeralds and Gold Mohurs, sucking on Silver Bars, and sprinkling Louis d’Ors and glitt’ring Doubloons betwixt her pink Infant Fingers!

“This ’ere’s me Quartermaster, Horatio,” Lancelot said, his Thieves’ Accent growing thicker at Annie Bonny’s Arrival, “and this ’ere’s me Mascot, Fanny Hackabout-Jones.”

Anne Bonny rose to her Feet to receive Horatio’s Obeisances; for now ’twas his Turn to fall upon bended Knee and grovel, like a lovesick Puppy, before her. Me she ignor’d, so little Regard had she for my Looks or Bearing. Only my Name amus’d her.

“Why, what a curious Name!” said she, “Hackabout-Jones—how very odd.”

“Ye’d best remember it,” I said, “for ’twill be as famous as yours someday.”

How unlike me to be so ill-manner’d! The Words leap’d from my Mouth ere I thought about ’em.

“Methinks I see a green-eyed Monster,” said Horatio, rising from his Knees.

“Come, come, Ladies,” Lancelot said. “Why ye have much in common. By Rights ye should both be the best o’ Friends!”

I was unconvinced; yet could I not take my Eyes off Annie Bonny, so beauteous was she and so full of Fire. Her Hair was red, her Eyes as green as Emeralds, her Skin as pink as tiny furl’d Rosebuds, and her Breasts as white as Lilies. I touch’d the Stubble upon my Head and felt asham’d. If I were half the Woman this Bonny was, I should ne’er have let vile Whitehead use me so! OI blam’d myself e’en for my Misfortunes! Instead of taking Pity on myself and being a Friend to my own tortur’d Soul, I sought to be her Torturer as well.

Ah, Jealousy is, of all Human Vices, the most vicious! ’Tis truly, as Dryden says, “the Jaundice of the Soul”; and as Shakespeare says, it assuredly “doth mock the Meat it feeds on!” Jealousy can make Enemies of Friends and Friends of Enemies (when they envy a former Friend in common!). Jealousy, not Money, is the Root of all the Evil upon this Earth.

“Come, Ladies,” Lancelot said, “shall we take our Ease in the Great Cabin an’ drink a Glass o’ Claret? Fer, ’tis not often we are blest with such a Guest….” Whereupon he took Anne Bonny’s Arm like some Courtier of Old and led her slowly, and in the greatest State, to the Captain’s Cabin; Horatio and I humbly follow’d.

There, with Port and Cheese and other Dainties set before us, Lancelot drank a fulsome Toast to Bonny’s Beauty (whereupon
she
preen’d) and then he begg’d her to tell her Tale of Pyracy, Capture, and subsequent Deliverance.

I settl’d myself at the Captain’s Table to hear this Tale, yet in my Heart was I harden’d against her—if not because of her Great Ship, then because of her Great Beauty, if not because of her Great Beauty, then because of the way
my
two Great Men grovell’d and panted in her Presence. When Lancelot first made
my
Acquaintance, he had scarce us’d me thus. Ah, Men claim to be afraid of Women of Spirit, Women who can duel with Rapier like any Man, but i’faith, such Women fascinate ’em! For ’twas not Bonny’s Beauty alone that made Lancelot so daft for her, but the fatal Combination of Beauty and Courage!