Fanny (68 page)

“I was born in Ireland in County Cork,” said she, “the Daughter o’ an Attorney an’ a Housemaid. ’Tis said that
Bastards have the best Luck
, an’ my Case proves it, too! Fer I have watch’d me High-born Friends sink down whilst I meself have prosper’d….”

A Braggart she is, too, thought I, as well as Bastard, yet I swallow’d back my Words and held my Tongue.

“Me Father was Will Cormac, me Mother Peg Brennan, an’ Bonny is the Name o’ me first Husband—the Cowardly Dog, Jim Bonny. ’Tis all I got from him an’ just as well. Both me Children are Jack Rackham’s—so I think—but e’en that’s none too sure. At least I know they’re
mine
!” She laugh’d lustily, whereupon Lancelot and Horatio echo’d her Laughter as if this were the wittiest Jest they’d e’er heard. I remain’d as impassive as a good Whisk-Player.

“I was born as the curious Result o’ three lost Spoons—thus they are me Good-Luck Charms—an’ I have call’d me Galley after ’em. Me Galley itself is built after the Design o’ Captain Kidd’s, an’ save fer him, no Pyrate hath e’er sail’d a Ship o’ this Design!”

“You see!” Horatio, the Pyrate Historian, says to me.

“Hmmph!” say I, whereupon Bonny ignores me and continues.

“The Tale is strange—so are the Tales o’ all our Births oft’ strange, fer if we knew what odd Capriciousness o’ Fate brought our two Natural Parents to make love, we oft’ would quake to see how little stands betwixt our drawin’ Breath upon this Earth an’ bein’ curst fer all Eternity to Non-Existence….”

Horatio and Lancelot shook their Heads furiously in agreement, like two idiotick Niddle-Noddle Figures; I only lookt icily at my rival Pyrate and said nought.

“Fer as the Tale is told,” Bonny continu’d, “me Father had been married to a Lady o’ some Estate in County Cork, an’ she had gone away fer a Change o’ Air after her Lyin’-in, whereupon he took this Opportunity to pay Court to Peg Brennan, the Maid, fer whom he felt a Hot Attraction. So many Men do likewise when their Wives are engaged in Child-bearin’—which is the Reason I will ne’er be anyone’s Wife again! But, by the by, me Father’s first Wife went to his Mother’s in the Country, leavin’ me Father an’ Peg Brennan alone to do what they would without no spyin’ Eyes. But me Mum, Peg Brennan, was also a Beauty like meself, an’ sure she had Suitors besides the Master o’ the House.” Here Anne preen’d as if she play’d the Role of her own Mother. Lancelot and Horatio sat listening, slack-jaw’d and slavering.

“One o’ these, a young Tanner from the Town, took the Occasion o’ the Absence o’ the Mistress o’ the House to Steal three Silver Spoons whilst payin’ Court to me Mother. An’ she, bein’ a canny Wench, soon miss’d the Spoons—fer she knew full well who took ’em—an’ she went to the Constable to have her Suitor apprehended. He, on the other hand, havin’
earlier
realiz’d she suspected him, decided
not
to take the Spoons after all, an’ hid ’em betwixt the Sheets o’ her own Bed….”

Dear God—I thought—what a boring Tale! ’Twas worse than hearing someone’s endless Dream; yet Lancelot and Horatio just sat there hanging on each Word as if they had ne’er been so well entertain’d.

“An’ so,” Anne Bonny went on, “when the Mistress o’ the House return’d, the first Thing she was told was o’ the missin’ Spoons, which me Mother had ne’er chanced to find because she was sleepin’ with the Master o’ the House! But sure she did not tell the Mistress
that
! Rather, she said that the Spoons were taken by her Tanner Lover, that she
herself
had call’d a Constable, but that the Tanner then had run away an’ no one knew his Whereabouts! So much was true, but what me Mother did not know was that the Tanner came that very Afternoon, confess’d his Theft o’ the Spoons to the Mistress o’ the House, but said he’d done it but in jest, an’ return’d ’em forthwith to the Maid’s Bed. Aha!
Now
did the Mistress o’ the House suspect why those Spoons had ne’er been found, an’ now did Jealousy infest her Heart! Oho—thought she—me Maid hath not slept in her Bed! Oho, she hath been with me Husband! Whereupon, she resolves to catch the Lovers at their Game an’ nail ’em, as ’twere, to the Cross. So she tells the Maid that
she
intends to sleep in the Maid’s Chamber that very Night (supposedly to give her own Bed to her Husband’s Mother, but truly to apprehend her strayin’ Husband) an’ she tells me Mother to change the Linens fer her. Well, now, when me Mother goes to her Bed, what should she find there?”

“The Tanner?” offers Lancelot eagerly.

“No, Silly,” says Annie Bonny, showing her White Breasts.

“The Attorney, your Father?” offers Horatio.

“No, Silly,” says Anne, tossing her red Hair and smiling.

“A long boring Tale?” offer I, whereupon both Lancelot and Horatio look Daggers at me.

“No, no, no!” says our Annie. “She finds the three Spoons! Whereupon she hides ’em in a Chest fer the nonce, meanin’ later to put ’em where they might be found by Chance.”

“Oho!” cries Lancelot.

“Aha!” says Horatio.

“Aggh,” say I, but in truth, I say it softly, under my Breath.

“Well,” says the Queen of all the Pyrates, “that very Night, the Mistress o’ the House lyes in the Maid’s Bed—me Mother’s Bed, that is—an’ by the sacred Skull an’ Crossbones, what should happen but her own Husband, the Attorney, comes to her Bed an’ plays the most vigorous Lover with her—mistakin’ her fer the Maid! She bears it all submissively as any Christian Lady—tho’ it sure ain’t me own Style o’ Fornication—an’ sure enough he steals away in the Mornin’ thinkin’ now to surprize his Wife with his Return Home! (Fer, he had pretended to be away on his Wife’s Return Home, the better to have another Night with the beauteous Brennan.) Well, now that the Mistress o’ the House had her Proof o’ her Husband’s Infidelity, she straightaway goes to a Constable to have the Maid apprehended fer the Theft o’ the Spoons—so strong is her Desire fer Revenge—an’ she also goes to her Mother-in-Law, an’ most vigorously complains o’ her Husband, who play’d so great a Romeo with her, thinkin’ her the Maid—tho’ in me own Opinion, she should have
thankt
the Maid, fer ne’er before had she so good a Fuck off her own Husband! An’ methinks one Good Turn deserves another, eh?”

Here Lancelot and Horatio dissolv’d into Gales of Laughter, as if they were listening to Theophilus Cibber himself, playing Ancient Pistol!

“But no,” says Annie, “she has the Maid clapp’d in Prison fer it—the Fool—fer, sure, when the Maid’s Trunk is search’d an’ the Spoons found, she is swiftly condemn’d as guilty o’ the Theft! Now, the Husband comes Home, pretendin’ he was in another Town the previous Night, an’ the first Thing he hears is o’ the Maid’s Imprisonment, whereupon he goes into a Passion ’gainst the Wife, whereupon
she
accuses him o’ bein’ the Maid’s Lover, whereupon his own
Mother
accuses him o’ the same, an’ the Poor Man receives such a Tongue-lashin’ from the two Women that the Quarrel betwixt him an’ his Wife can ne’er be mended more, whereupon both Mother an’ Wife take Horse fer the Mother’s Country Seat, leavin’ the Husband to rage alone! An’, i’faith, ’twas the End o’ their Marriage, fer the Bitterness betwixt ’em grew such that ne’er did they live together as Man an’ Wife again.”

“But what o’ yer poor Mum, in Gaol?” asks Lancelot.

“Well may ye ask,” Anne Bonny says. “She languishes there near six Months ere the Assizes, an’ whilst in Gaol grows greater-an’ greater-bellied—fer me own Infant Self was bloomin’ in her Womb—an’ when the Assizes comes ’round, the Mistress o’ the House relents, havin’ taken Pity on the Maid, an’ decides not to press Charges, an’ so the Maid is set free, an’ soon after brings me to me Birth. All well an’ good so far, but the Mistress o’ the House also proves with Child an’ she gives birth to Twins, whereupon the Attorney, thinkin’ he hath not lain with her since her previous Confinement, grows e’en more vext with her than e’er before an’ now openly lives with the Maid an’ his bastard Daughter to spite her! Well, by an’ by, the Attorney’s Mother falls ill, begs her Son to reconcile with his Legal Wife fer her own Sake, whereupon the stubborn Man refuses, fer he loves his little Daughter an’ his Mistress too well to part from ’em now, whereupon his own Mother disinherits him, leavin’ all her Money to the estranged Wife….”

Dear Goddess, thought I, spare me this rambling Tale, which bores me so it makes my Ears itch! Were Lancelot and Horatio both daft? Had they no Judgement at all? I began to nod and close my Eyes, pretending to listen, but only listening here and there to Anne’s Tale when it suited my Convenience.

The Nub of her History seem’d to be that her Father soon had to leave County Cork due to this Scandal, which ruin’d his Law Practice, whereupon he departed for Charlestown with his Mistress, the former Maid, and his Daughter, Anne. In Charlestown, he set out to practice Law, but soon turn’d Planter, with much Success. Alas, no sooner was he establish’d in Carolina but his beloved Mistress dy’d and he became sole Parent to his little Girl. Thus, she was rais’d, our Annie, on a Charlestown Plantation, the Apple of her Papa’s Eye and spoilt as rotten as a Child could hope to be. Ah, how oft’ ’tis true with Women who are Hellions that they were rais’d by doting Papas! For Anne was ne’er restrain’d in any of her Wishes, and, as a Child, was given her own Slaves, Dogs, and Horses. At Fourteen, she stabb’d an Indentur’d Servant Girl who dropp’d a Dish of Pottage in her Lap—and went scot-free. At Fifteen she join’d a Band of Thieves down by the Charlestown Wharves, and when she was apprehended, her Papa bought her Liberty from Gaol. At Sixteen, she nearly kill’d a Young Swain who’d foolishly thought to take advantage of her. Thus could Anne Bonny defend herself when she did not fancy a Man, but when she fancied one, she also had her Way with him. She told of a Fencing Master who’d taught her how to fence by flicking off her Clothes at Rapier-Point whilst she flickt his as well! Whereupon she announced, in no uncertain Terms, that she’d lost her Virginity at the Age of Nine and ne’er regretted its Loss an Instant.

The History of Annie Bonny’s Life now became most gamey and I open’d my Eyes. I tried to count her Lovers on my Fingers, Toes, the Buttons of my Shift, but soon lost count. There was the Fencing Master, the Dancing Master, an Indian Hunter who’d taught her how to hunt and shoot and e’en skin her Prey, a wealthy Planter or two, and innumerable Buccaneers! ’Twas most curious that tho’ her Life had been adventurous in the extream, she was able to bore one quite because of the dreary Manner in which she told of it. ’Tis frequently the case with Histories of e’en the greatest Men and Women, that if they have no Wit in their Expression nor Instinct for the Story-Teller’s Craft, e’en the most stirring Adventures will seem dull. Mark this well, I told myself, when you come to write the History of your own Life; ne’er forget that ’tis not Fidelity to Fact alone that makes a Story stir the Blood, but Craft and Art! And ’tis perhaps the
greatest
Craft to seem to have no Craft.

But Lancelot and Horatio conceiv’d no Criticisms whatsoe’er of Bonny’s Tale. They hung upon each Word as if she were a Female Homer, ranting in Ancient Greece.

’Twould have seem’d to me that Bonny had sufficient Liberty at Home in Charlestown ne’er to seek to leave her Father’s Plantation; yet, as e’en the freest Persons account themselves caged if they have licentious Appetites, Anne was determin’d to fly the Nest. As a Girl of Good Fortune, she had her full Choyce of Rich Planters to marry, but none of ’em pleas’d her. Spoil’d as she was by a doting Papa, she ran off with a Common Tar, fully expecting her foolish Papa to shower ’em with Gifts, Houses, and a gen’rous Marriage Portion; but her Papa prov’d wiser than she expected upon this Occasion, and turn’d her out of Doors. Whereupon she and her Husband, James Bonny, took Ship to that great Pyrates’ Lair in the Bahama Isles, the notorious New Providence.

To hear Anne tell of it, New Providence was a sort of New-World Sodom, tho’ to Pyrates ’twas a Paradise.

“The Waters ’round New Providence,” says she, “is too shallow fer yer Men o’ War, yet perfect fer a Brigantine or Sloop—an’ the Channels is most tricky an’ treacherous….”

There, in short, upon the Isle of New Providence could the Pyrates prepare Excursions ’gainst the great Merchant Ships, for in New Providence there was no Law at all and Pyrates liv’d just as they lik’d.

“’Twas what I dreamt about fer all me bloomin’ Life,” says Anne, “a Town without no Constables nor Judges, a Town where him that’s fastest with his Pistol wins ev’ry Argument, an’ where the Women were such bold Whores that I was deem’d a Virgin! Well—almost one….”

If she’s a Virgin, thought I, I’m the Queen of Sheba.

In New Providence, Anne Bonny soon left her dull Husband, Jim Bonny, for more exciting Meat, and went a-pyrating with Jack Rackham.

“O Woe is me,” says she, with no Woe whatsoe’er in her Voice, “I’m e’er a Sucker fer a Handsome Face, an’ Jack was that! Big Cock, small Brain, an’ Calico Trowsers! Was e’er a Wench so daft as to love a Man fer his bright Trowsers? Why, a Wench should love a Man fer what’s in his Head, not in his Cod-Piece, but I’m too innocent o’ the World’s Wicked Ways, I am—no one understands how silly an’ naïve I am ’neath my Reputation….”

Good God! Great Goddess! thought I. Is there no Villain in this World who doth not regard himself as a poor abus’d Innocent, no She-Wolf who doth not think herself a Lamb, no Shark who doth not fancy that she is a Goldfish? Lancelot and Horatio lookt piteously upon her as she prated of her “Innocence”! O ye Heavens—Men are the veriest Fools when Women with large Breasts and Flaming Hair speak of their wounded Innocence!

“Well—” says Bonny, “I went a-pyratin’ with him an’ prov’d meself—as all say—braver than any Man….”

At least she’s modest, thought I.

“Ye know, o’ course,” Bonny went on, “that Gov’ner Woodes Rogers o’ New Providence had promis’d a Pardon fer all Pyrates o’ that Town in the Hopes o’ makin’ ’em proper Settlers an’ bloody Money-hungry Whigs—an’ so we took the Gov’ner’s Pardon—Jack Rackham an’ I did. But no sooner was we fitted out with a fine Privateerin’ Ship to cruise ’gainst the filthy Spanish Dogs than we turn’d Pyrate fer our own Account! Oho, ’twas
then
that we chanced to find upon our Ship a handsome young Sea-Dog name o’ Mark Read an’ he an’ I was hot attracted to each other”—here she winkt broadly at Lancelot and Horatio—“whereupon Jack Rackham grew ungodly jealous an’ surpriz’d us both whilst we was alone an’ kissin’ on the Fo’c’sle Deck ’neath the Moon! Jack ripp’d the Shirt off this Mark Read in a Passion an’ lo! what should he find?”