Fanny (70 page)

’Twas Dusk when Annie Bonny left us on the High Seas, accompanied by the same twelve Pyrates who had leapt aboard our Ship with so much Menace. O as I saw her depart, I was full of Admiration for this Pyrate Queen! How
could
I have thought her low and common when she was such a true Sister of the Seas! What Generosity of Spirit! What Magnanimity of Heart! Annie Bonny was all Things, thought I, save a Hypocrite. She scoff’d at Fine Manners, took her Pleasure where and when it pleas’d her, like a Rake, but underneath it all, she had the Pyrate’s Honour and an Honest Heart. She knew enough to honour Lancelot and Horatio as fellow Colleagues of the Seas, and tho’ her Morals might seem loose to some, at least ’twas true she was no Hypocrite! She did not claim to be but what she seem’d. She was no Whore pretending to the Manners of a Duchess, no Courtesan masquerading as a Countess, no Harlot claiming to be Queen. As her Ship sail’d away in the Tropick Dusk—the Skies still pink with Phoebus’ Afterglow—I saw her Pyrate Banner flapping proudly in the Breeze and I rejoiced; for this was the finest Woman I e’er had known, the lusty Goddess manifest on Earth!

’Twas strangely quiet upon Deck. Lancelot and Horatio and I wav’d Farewell to the
Three Spoon Galley
with what aching Hearts I cannot e’en say. Lancelot sigh’d; Horatio sigh’d; I sigh’d. But in a trice, I had the most curious Pang.

“The Men!” I cried. “Where are our Men?”

We lookt about; the Decks were bare. The Sails were luffing and the Rigging foul. Not a single Tar was to be seen about. Swiftly and with what Panick Sailors alone may know, we three ran about the Ship. Horatio to the Steerage, Lancelot and I to set the Sails again. ’Twas not long before a Howl, as of some Savage Beast, rose from the Depths of the Hold. ’Twas Horatio, summoning us below.

Lancelot and I descended, our very Souls in the Grip of Fear—and O when we arriv’d, the Picture that we saw was piteous indeed:

In the commodious Hold of the
Happy Delivery
, where before had been Bars of Silver, Piles of Emeralds, Sacks of Golden Coins, were all our Tars bound Hand and Foot and gagg’d like rabid Dogs! Some few had been shot—tho’ none was kill’d—as Tokens, but most were unharm’d, yet so tightly bound that they could scarce move at all. Horatio began the Task of unbinding ’em, and when he ungagg’d the first, a Carpenter, that same let fly a Volley of Curses the like of which I had not heard since I journey’d up the Thames by Boat!

“The boilin’ Bitch! The stinkin’ Whore! The Jade! She’s got our Booty—Lock an’ Stock an’ Barrel!”

I heard this Volley and did not know, at first, whether to smile or weep, tho’ ’twould cost my very Life to do the Former. O ’tis said that Men cannot be rap’d, but Bonny prov’d it untrue! My Woman’s Heart knew not whether to salute her Cunning or damn her as a scheming Bitch! I ponder’d to myself, yet for the Life of me I
could
not damn her. Emeralds would we lose and find again, but Belinda was unique upon this Earth! If she had barter’d me her Charts for all those Jewels, verily ’twas worth it—tho’ I’d best not say so. What a Wench! Sure all the Tales of Rackham’s Daring were her own Doing. She was the Brains behind ’em both! Why, to take in Lancelot and Horatio—those greatest of Great Pyrates—and steal their Treasures by the simple Ruses of Flattery and Lust, ’twas a sort of Genius! Without Jack Rackham, Bonny would ne’er be caught! And where’er she sail’d a Part of me would sail, chearing the World’s chief Female Pyrate!

But none of that must show; I must be heartbroken o’er the Loss of our Booty and I must seek somehow to appease the Men.

“The other Ships are gone!” cried the next Man to be unbound, a Musician. “She bewitch’d ’em as she did you!”

“Then did they sail with her?” I askt. “The Bonny Bitch….”

“Mayhap,” says the Carpenter, “or took off on their own Account….”

“Good Riddance,” says Horatio. “If they have not the Wit to sail with Lancelot Robinson to
Libertalia
—the Devil take ’em!”

Lancelot lookt downcast; his Dreams of a Deocracy were dasht again. I put my Arms ’round him to comfort him.

Now Horatio was untying sev’ral of the original Merry Men, Puck Goodfellow, Francis Bacon, Caveat, and Littlehat.

“We’re better off with one loyal Ship than four mutinous ones,” says Caveat. “O I have oft’ told Lancelot that ’tis his O’erreaching will be the Death o’ him—like Icarus o’ Old. If those Fools would rather sail with the Bonny Bitch instead o’ Robin Hood reborn, ’twill be their own Downfall! They will come to Grief, mark my Words, they will!”

“So ye had a good Bit o’ Mutton, Boys, did ye?” says Puck Goodfellow, mockingly. “She must have drugg’d yer Claret or yer Port, the Tart, fer ye was dead to the World fer sev’ral Hours and heard neither Screams nor Scuffles. Why, Anne Bonny’s Men carted off the Booty as if they workt in the Removal Trade!”

“How could ye let her strip ye o’ yer Booty?” Caveat asks, just like a nagging Mother. “How could ye, Lancelot?” Whereupon Lancelot lookt as if he were going to weep.

“Come, come!” says Littlehat, embracing Lancelot, too, and me into the Bargain, “we’ve found Booty before, we’ll find it again! ’Tis in our Stars to lose Fortunes an’ make ’em again!” Whereupon he slapp’d Lancelot upon the Back encouragingly. “Good Riddance to those other Rogues, say I! If they haven’t the Wit to want our
Libertalia
, good Riddance, say I!”

“Aye,” says Francis Bacon, “Littlehat is right. Damn’d Meat-Eaters all of ’em! What Enlightenment can ye expect of ’em what eats Carrion! In
Libertalia
, we’ll eat Vegetables an’ Fruits alone an’ spare the Souls of our four-legged Friends!”

Lancelot lookt a bit happier now, with his two-legged Friends rallying ’round him.

“Speakin’ o’ Meat, how was the Bonny Bitch?” askt Puck in Accents most pyratical. “A juicy Bit o’ Mutton, eh? A nice Fillet o’ Fish?”

Horatio and Lancelot lookt at him and winkt simultaneously, like sly Schoolboys.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” said Horatio.

“Ye know I have no Use whatsoe’er fer the Preposterous Pudendum,” says Lancelot.

“Oho,” says Puck, “that’s yer Beard, me Boy! I know that one, too! ’Tis the Mollyish Boys gets
all
the Girls—” and he mimickt a Molly mincing along the Strand in his high-heel’d Shoes, waggling his Arse seductively.

“Enough of this Chatter,” I cried. “Away with you! All Hands on Deck! The Sails are luffing! Should a Squall come up, we’ll surely founder! There’s Time enough to talk of Bonny later! For the nonce, we’re setting Sail again for Anegado! There’s a Fair Prize coming through the Anegado Passage and I mean to take her!”

“Which Prize is that?” askt Littlehat.

“The
Cassandra
!” said I. “All Hands on Deck!” O I was in command of my Ship again and I meant to find Belinda!

Suddenly I was fir’d with the Ambition to be like Anne Bonny! I thought that my whole Life long, I had been too timid and Lady-like. All the good Things I had gain’d—leaving Lymeworth to seek my Fortune, making my Mutiny within the Brothel, insisting upon my own Terms for being kept by Lord Bellars, becoming Whitehead’s Scribe, altering Lancelot’s Pyrate Articles, learning the Craft of Pyracy itself—were gain’d thro’ killing the Lady in myself and playing the Pyrate! The Lady and the Pyrate! ’Twas as if two people battl’d for Supremacy within my very Soul: one a Vapourish Lady and one a Daring Pyrate, and they were so unlike each other they were scarce on speaking Terms! Whilst the Lady in myself was quiv’ring and quailing in Cowardice, the Pyrate was itching to breathe free! ’Twas the Pyrate who could command a Ship, scale a Shroud in a trice, climb to the Top of a Crow’s-Nest, and scour the Seas expertly with a Spying-Glass! ’Twas the Pyrate who had beguil’d Lord Bellars into keeping me, all unknowing of my True Identity; and ’twas the Pyrate who had earn’d Whitehead’s wary Trust by becoming his Amanuensis! ’Twas the Pyrate who had endur’d a Childbirth few endure, but ’twas the Lady who, in her Guilt and Vapourish Fear, allow’d a Wet-Nurse to tyrannize o’er her and steal the very Jewel of her Existence! ’Twas the Pyrate who amended Lancelot’s Articles, but ’twas the Lady who at first resented Bonny both for her Beauty and for her Freedom! O I must
learn
from Bonny, not resent her, I thought; for she is what all Women long to be! E’en Chaucer says it thro’ the Wife of Bath: The Fair Sex seeks that “absolute Command / With all the Government of House and Land; / And Empire o’er his Tongue, and o’er his Hand!”

Perhaps I had resented Bonny because she alone of all the Women I had met had gain’d what we all seek: true Mastery o’er her Fate. She depended upon no Keeper, whether male or female. She rais’d her own Babes and commanded her own Ship; and a Host of Pyrates listen’d when she spoke! If Women could master their Fates only thro’ Pyracy, sobeit! Banish the Lady from my Soul fore’er more! Pyrate I was and Pyrate I long’d to be! And let Belinda learn to be a Pyrate, too!

We sail’d onward now for Anegado, hoping we might, in a few Days, intercept the
Cassandra
as she clear’d Sir Francis Drake’s Channel, heading for the Open Sea. The Sea was Sapphire blue, shading off to Azure ’neath the Reefs, and tho’ ’twas almost October and the Season of Hurricanoes, the Seas were not treacherous tho’ the Winds were fresh. No, the Skies were changeless blue; the Sea glitter’d like a Jewel; and the Sun was a bright Disk of Gold on High.

Horatio and Lancelot were disgruntl’d o’er the Loss of our Booty, disgusted with themselves, I’ll warrant, for having been taken in by a canny Wench; but I read the Sea and Sun and found the Omens good. I understood now that Anne Bonny had been sent to me to teach me of my Fate, for only when I kill’d the timorous Lady in myself would I rise like the Phoenix o’er the Ashes of my former Life and become the Fanny I was meant to be!

My Thoughts turn’d now to Belinda—now that I hop’d I might truly find her again. What did it mean to have a Daughter in a World of Sons, and how might I teach her to survive? Someday, I vow’d, if I endur’d and if my Belinda endur’d, I should write a Book for her, embodying all I’d learnt about surviving upon this ungracious Globe in Woman’s Form. This Vow I made to the flat Horizon and to the Sun’s bright, blinding Coin, to the variegated Fishes ’neath the Sea, and to the Gracious Goddess who is o’er all, and who embodies all. I would write a Book for my own Belinda, so that when she ventur’d out into the World, she should have under her Arm a Book to guide her, a vast Compendium of Woman’s Destiny, an Epick and a History roll’d into one, advice to a Daughter by her loving Dam! Empty-handed went I into the World, but Belinda shall have her own Great Book. For the Mother who really loves her Daughter, doth not strive to keep her Home by the Hearth, but sends her out into the World, arm’d with the Lessons her own Life has taught.

So I mus’d, and the Winds answer’d me by staying fresh and fair. O Sailors live at the Mercy of the Winds, rocking in the Cradle of the Ocean like Newborn Babes. And if we are a superstitious Lot, ’tis because our whole Existence may depend upon a freshening Breeze. But when the Winds are fair and the Sun shines, when we see Ripples of white upon the Surface of the Deep, yet no Mountainous Waves, no Alps nor Troughs of Water, then we account ourselves most truly blest and make Obeisances to whate’er Gods we honour.

I spy’d many a Ship in my Spying-Glass in the Days that follow’d, many three-masted Merchantmen, but none was the
Cassandra.
Some of our Crew Members began to grumble, wanting to take Prizes we saw, in order to recover our Fortunes more speedily, but Lancelot convinced ’em to wait for the
Cassandra
, which he promis’d would be worth a dozen other Merchantmen. Lancelot now took many Risques for me—as if indeed he’d come to love me quite—altho’ we ne’er touch’d save in Platonick Passion. What if the
Cassandra
prov’d to have no Booty and the Men mutinied against him in Revenge? Lancelot seem’d not to care so long as I found Belinda. My Passions now were his; what better Love hath any Man?

For my own part, I knew the weather was unseasonably fair, and as the Days pass’d and still we did not sight the Cassandra, I began to worry about Bonny’s Treachery. Perhaps she’d ly’d to us concerning the
Cassandra.
Perhaps she’d given us Charts merely to confuse us and keep us from discovering the Loss of our Booty until ’twas verily too late. Perhaps there was no Sisterhood whatsoe’er betwixt us, and perhaps all her apparent Concern o’er my kidnapp’d Babe was nought but Trumpery, Tricks, and Mischief. Why should I believe her regarding the
Cassandra
when she had beguil’d us regarding our Booty and perhaps e’en beguil’d our other Ships and Tars? Why had I such Confidence that as a loving Mother she’d be true to another loving Mother, e’en tho’ she had stolen our Gold and Jewels? Ah Fanny, thought I, you are still an Innocent in this Wicked World! Have you not yet learnt the Lesson that you must trust
no
one utterly? For Treachery e’er lurks around the Corner, and trust is the Enemy of those who would Survive!

I fretted thus as I scann’d the Horizon thro’ my Spying-Glass, wond’ring if I should e’er see my Belinda again, or if she had already been offer’d up—like some Infant Iphigenia—to propitiate the Winds. Goddess forbid! I must bite my Tongue for speaking such a Fear, e’en if only to myself!

The Fair Weather could not last fore’er more. ’Twas October and the Seas now show’d Signs of growing rough. ’Twas on a Day when the Skies were darksome and brooding and Clouds obscur’d the Sun, that I spy’d three Masts upon the Horizon, at a Distance of sev’ral Miles, and I had a most curious Conviction that ’twas the
Cassandra.

We gave Chase, mounting a Parade of Sail that would do a Pyrate’s Honour proud; Guns were at the ready and we had a brave Topsail Gale from North to North-East. The Weather grew thicker and dirtier as we gave Chase, and our Hold now being empty (where before ’twas deep-loaden with Gold and Silver), we heel’d precipitously. The Wind whipp’d thro’ our Sails, which were so close-haul’d that all our Timbers creakt and our Brigantine was strain’d to her utmost. I knew, by now, the Danger we were in, the angry Look of the Seas, the blackening Skies, the sudden Furies of the Winds, but I abandon’d my Fears to the Pow’r of the Goddess, telling myself that if I lost Belinda, my Life should be worth nothing to me, whereas if I found her, I should have nought to fear from the Fates as long as I might live.