JS1990

This topic has provided me with such great entertainment and inspiration! Thank you all for sharing. You all look great!

Going to make myself a cup of tea and view this! Thank you for sharing.

I think Brit.Privateer is right - I don't see them being buried decently.

Not entirely sure how authentic this is, since I can't find a date, but came across this while I was googling a similar subject. Nassau. And another, 1864 (a bit later than 1700s, but may be helpful for your purpose). Nassau again.

This is what I am trying to figure out. It seems highly unlikely to me that they were able to take A) find his skeleton and display it in an all ages movie. Perhaps just in the mind of the creators?

I like how you phrase that - it was and wasn't a nice place. Trying to remember where I got that information from.. Will continue to rack my brain. Ok - lets go on some dates here regarding the pregnancy. If pregnancy was only able to be authenticated towards the first trimester, that would mean that they were 2-3 months pregnant at that time (November). Mary's death is signalled around April. That would mean they would both be very near to giving birth, if not already have birthed?! Does anyone know what would usually happen in that era if a convicted criminal gave birth whilst awaiting execution? Were they given X amount of time with the child before being executed? Or whipped away and the child shipped off somewhere?

Hi everyone, Not that I am the fondest of the 'Hollywoodiztion' that the Pirates of the Caribbean did to pirate history, I've come across a few resources that stipulate the skeleton of the real Jack Rackham is visible in one of the movies (not sure which one). Apparently, when Jack Sparrow enters Port Royal, Rackham's skeleton is the one on the right: I think I remember reading somewhere else that after he was hung, he was gibbeted and put on display. Could there be any truth to the above? Warm regards to you all J

I remember reading somewhere that James Bonny was a black man - but I can't seem to find anything to certify that now. If he was, it surely would've been much tougher to move around, get married, and so on during that period?

Hi there Brit.Privateer; Thank you for your answer. With all of the stories, it feels like so much longer! A total of 59 days. Interesting. Now it makes sense regarding Foxe's comment of pregnancies before becoming official 'pirates'. Warm regards and thanks a lot to you all, Jacqui

That is so interesting. Thank you all so much for your fantastic assistance. Mission - I tend to agree regarding the Opium side of things. Otherwise, I suppose that alcohol was the drug of choice for the majority! I will also conduct more research and see what I can find - Will report back soon :-) Warm regards to you all J

And another question..... PIERRE? This name keeps popping up in some research. Is there any factual base to him? And if not - where on earth do all of these rumors come from! Warm regards Jacqui

Hi there everyone, I hope you are well and having a wonderful week so far. I am interested to know what kind of information we've got on drug usage among pirates of the 1700's - does anyone have any insights? In taverns, on board etc. Warm regards J

Hanks for your input, Foxe! You are ever helpful. I seriously admire your thoroughness! So - you're saying that it could be a possibility that Anne and Mary were pregnant before coming pirates? If that is the case - how long were they actually engaged in piracy? I am replying from my phone so cannot see the dates, thus I am about to go from memory; does that then indicate that Anne's supposed 2nd child could not be Jack's, and would be more likely to be James's or an unknown 3rd person? I say supposed because we don't actually know if there was the 'Cuba child'. Warm regards Jacqui

Hi there team Pyracy Pub, I've been stalking this forum for years, chiming in when I joined and only recently again. I am trying to wade through the multitude of 'facts' about Anne Bonny's life. I'd love to have a discussion on what can be true (in our opinions!) and what can't be - especially when it comes to dates! BORN: 8th March 1702? 1698? 1700? In Bullens Cove? Cork? ALIAS: Bonn? Fulforn? MARRIED JAMES BONNY: 1718 (which would make her either 16, 20 or 18)? MET RACKHAM: 1720 (Rackham arriving in 1719)? CAPTURED: ?? 1720: Governer Woodes Rodgers issues notice in Boston Gazette about Rackham and 12 others (incl. Mary and Anne) stealing a 12 ton sloop and engaging in acts of robbery and piracy. Within a few weeks their ship was intercepted and the pirates captured - led by a heavily armed legion behind Captain Jonathan Barnet. The pirates were confined in Spanish Town jail? TRIAL: Rackham, along with 10 other men, were trialled on the 16th of Nov and all found guilty - hung a few days later? Nov. 28th: Anne and Mary on trial, plead their bellies and were 'saved'. 1721: Mary Read dies, burried April 28th. Is Anne still in jail here?! If so - this would make them already at least 5-6 months more pregnant than they were at the trial. Was there a way of testing if women were pregnant back then? LIFE AFTER JAIL: Ran away with Dr. Micheal Radcliffe, headed west to Virginia, and joined a group of pioneers? Father, William Cormac, managed to secure a release for her, taking her back to Charlestown... Where she marries Joseph Burleigh, has 8 children with him, and dies at the happy age of 84 in 1782 (which would put her birth year at 1698)? Anyone else have any other theories or comments they'd like to add? I am not at all saying any of the above is total fact - These are just the most common themes that I have come across, and I'd love some discussion. Warm regards J

Hi there, I am not the greatest at critiquing quite yet, so I will let someone else do that. However, I will say that I enjoyed reading this - it flows beautifully and your descriptions are excellent - you know how to put the reader right in the world! Thank you for sharing, and I look forward to seeing what comes next.

I think this is my favorite thread. Thank you all for the wonderful information! Regards, JS

Thank you for all of the replies to the OP - this is a great topic that I hope to follow. Thanks for the links too - I am already reading away! :) Warm regards JS

These are all absolutely fantastic! Thank you all for sharing.

Wow - this is a great question! Thanks to all for the excellent input. Very interesting indeed.

Dear Plundrere, Thank you very much for your kind word and support. I am glad to hear that you have enjoyed it so far. As bruising as criticism may be, it is essential for development of literature, and I would gladly welcome it. Thank you very much for your kind offer of help. Please do feel free to PM me your thoughts when you have free time. Warmest regards, Jacqui

For interests sake, here is some more. Again, I am aware I need a lot of work on period specific pieces etc, and I will continue to research them all :-). Pop a cup of tea, or grab a glass of rum - there is a lot to be read ahead! -- As the morning rays hit the little cottage, the smell of burnt grass was in the air. Anne opened the door slowly, stepping softly through it. As she put her burnt finger into the wash bucket, James stirred in his sleep. She withdrew it immediately, creeping back into bed next to him. The day had only just begun. Anne woke again slowly, yawning and stretching. As she came to, she recognised her Father’s voice, mixed with her fiancés. “I know it was you James, don’t you dare take it upon yourself to lie to me!” William said ferociously. “Sir, I would not-“ “First, I hire you to make yourself a living all those years ago. I give you good pay and a chance for your future. Then, you proceed to steal my daughter away? Bribe her with maddening necessities? And if that was not enough to send an old man to his grave, you think it wise to set my entire stock, my fields, my living on fire? Is it so that I am now in the same place as you? And do not think that I can see through your childish plans with my daughter. She still is a child, man, how can you fail to see that!?” William said, gasping for breath. “My choice to be with him is my own.” Anne replied, getting out of bed to join James at the door. She saw her Father’s heart break through his eyes. “Anne, stay out of this.” James shot at her. Already, she could feel her untamed rage becoming apparent. “I demand to know what is going on.” She said to her Father, whom failed to look at her. 'Somebody..,” He said, “Has thought it wise to burn my plantations.” “Is that so?” She asked, knowing full well who had done such a thing. She couldn’t help but let herself smile. “Father, perhaps it is a sign. You have done something wrong, to which now has been repaid to you. Is that is? Perhaps, father, you should of thought twice before you said no.” She nudged unsubtly. “Anne.. You wouldn’t. You, you couldn’t!” He spat in denial. James looked from Anne to the smoke, from the smoke to Anne’s burnt finger, which she made no effort to hide. He dropped his jaw in shock. “I already have, Father. Now if you would be as so kind to remove yourself, James and I have business that needs attending. Today is that day of our wedding, and we would quite like to proceed. Farewell.” Anne said stubbornly, trying to shut the door. Her father threw his hand against it. “I took you from Ireland, so you would not have been looked down upon. I gave up food, your Mother gave up water, so you would be well fed.. And yet this, this statement from you is what I gather in return? 16 years of sacrifices have mislead me to this? Anne Cormac… After this day, you shall no longer call me your Father. With these words to you, I take any connection, any ties to you away. The only thing we will share is our blood, to which I wish will one day lead you to your senses. After this day, you will be Anne Bonny. And after this day, you will not call me your father. Good day to you both.” He cried, his voice shaking with each breath he took. He let go of the door, allowing it to shut on its own. Anne stood in silence, listening to his horses hooves fade into the distance. She could not have had words to say if she tried. James made the first move, sitting down on the bed. He lay his heads in his hands. “Look what you did.” He said, that coat of anger coming back to him. Anne said nothing in reply. The pair sat in silence, until James proceeded to put Anne’s evening attire into a sack, along with his. “What are you doing? The priest will be here in a moment to marry us.” She said honestly, watching him. “You’re mad, girl. We cannot marry here. It is a cursed place, the very ground you stand on has now been cursed. Gather your belongings, I shall gather mine. Then, we shall go.” With that, he went out the door, with a sack of all the gold he could find in his hand. Anne had no choice but to listen, as she knew she now had no one else to provide for her. Knowing that, however, she also knew that the love between herself and James was slipping through her fingertips, minute by minute. She walked around the little cottage, throwing her belongings into the brown sack, and throwing James’s into a pile on his bed. Hours later, as the sun began to set, Anne saw James walking up their pathway, clutching two pieces of paper where the gold once was. Anne rushed out the door, joining him. He handed her the papers, which she squinted to read in the fading light. ‘Anne Bonny, age sixteen (one six), at the fare of three pounds, on Her Majesty’s ship, departing at 7 o’clock on January the twelfth. Destination: New Providence, Bahamas. Reporting time shall be half an hour before that of the departure.’ Anne read it again, to make sure. “New Providence?” She asked. James nodded. “We leave now. Gather your sack Anne, and let me fill mine. Then… We leave, and say goodbye to this place as it stands.” James said, putting the papers into his pocket. Anne nodded, not sure what to make of the situation. She went into the cottage, picked up her sack and waited for James to finish his. Together, they walked out of the cottage, down the pathway and towards the docks, silent as the fading sun. As the ship’s mast came into view, Anne knew that she was preparing to say goodbye to everything she knew. -- CHAPTER TWO “HMS Royalty?” Anne questioned, reading the letters across the back of the hull. The ship that came into view was a wooden dark brown, her sails mighty and high against the masts. “Aye, a retired British Navy vessel.” answered a man next to her. She spun to look at him, and nodded in reply. Wrinkled in the face, his long and greying hair whispered around him. Around her, people were hugging each other, saying final goodbyes and nonsense she didn’t care of. A few ragged men were loading sacks and cases onto the ship, throwing them with no worry as to how gently they landed. Mothers were scurrying around and making sure their children had enough warm clothes as their husbands bargained with the ship’s chef to provide them with an extra ration of food. Anne looked behind her, sweeping her auburn red hair off her shoulders. The same faces, none knowing what to expect of this new place, looked back. A promise, indeed, but none knew if it was ever to be fulfilled. A cooling, soft rain started to fall, sending a sheet of calmness over the chaotic situation. Anne tended to slip off a lot, into a world she liked as her own. With her dreams providing a back drop, her private thoughts would fly in and out of her head, pausing for only one moment at a time. She liked to dwell on things that other people would surpass, though one would never guess. She thrived on new experiences, especially the kind that none else could relate too. Anne’s only downfall, some would say, was her inability to handle any anger or any rage that would enter, acting upon it immediately. James took Anne’s sack from her, bringing her all to quickly back into reality. “We must board.” He said, leading her towards the queue. Anne replied in silence, letting James lead the way. The old man followed closely. As they moved closer to the ticket officer, Anne looked back to the town. Taking a last look at her home, she swept her widened eyes to James’s cottage on the outskirts, to the small village full of normality, and back to her Father’s modest home. To everything she knew. “Tickets please M’am!” an officer shouted at Anne, whom was caught off guard, throwing them to him in return. The officer looked startled, and spluttered something Anne couldn’t make out. By now, James had gotten used to her behaviour, and preceded onboard without a word. Anne followed James onto the ship, which she realised was not in its grandest of years. As they made their way to what would be their home for the following few weeks, Anne stopped at the sight of the readily growling sea. As the waves started to crash along the side, it rattled her through her skin and into her bones. She breathed in the cold sea air, feeling it fill her lungs with a capacity like never before. Anne felt herself smiling as she surrendered to her newest challenge. “You too eh?” croaked the old man, startling her from behind. With no reply, Anne located James at the end of the ship, making his way into the hull. “We sleep down here, Anne.” He said, pointing to a pair of bunks in a corner. Following him in, she placed her sack onto the top bunk that she claimed as her own. As the hull became fuller, Anne left James on his bunk and made her way back up the narrow wooden stairs, and onto the deck of the ship. She walked slowly towards the bow, dragging her hands along the wet rail. “All aboard!” She heard the ticket officer call, signalling to the captain. The rain fell harder on Anne’s head, flattening her usually buoyant hair. She watched as the ship started to leave, catching the wind in her sails. People were yelling goodbye, waving pieces of clothing or their hands. Blowing kisses. Anne sighed, looking away from them. She instead focused on the bow again, watching it gain more and more speed. The sound of goodbye’s started to fade away. The ship rocking steadily beneath her, she began to drift, her eyes closing. The feeling she felt was like no other, calm and at ease, yet excited and exasperated at the same time. Every breath she took was like that of the first she had ever witnessed. Every other sound around her blocked itself out, allowing everything to give into the sea. It slashed, it crashed and it extorted. It flowed, it grew, and it fell. It held hope, loss and everything in between. Anne imagined the memories it held, seeing everything from death to birth to victories and losses. She felt herself moving closer to the edge, feeling herself take a leap upwards, felt her fingers grazing gently over the statue of the mermaid at the very front, taking in every cut and groove it held. With nothing now supporting her feet, they dangled above the water, tempting the sea and herself. Her arms holding on to the statue, she dropped them a little further, the sea spray tickling her feet and calves. Someone was calling her name in the distance. Her eyes remained shut. “Anne!” Someone yelled over the sound of the sea. Dropping her arms a little further, it was now only her hands supporting her. She felt as if her entire life rested at the bottom of the ocean, and she wanted nothing more than to be one with it. Slowly, finger by finger, she let go of the statue with her right hand. She felt it dangle weightlessly next to her body. She was slipping off, supported only by her one hand. The sea growled recklessly, as if it could see what Anne couldn’t. It wanted to claim the prize before it could be wretched away. James reached down within seconds, grabbing Anne’s hand just as she let go. Her eyes jolting open, she became aware of the scene around her. People were yelling, shouting instructions. Looking down, she saw her feet within a metre of her sea. ‘My sea..’ she thought, watching it roll around her. She looked up to see James pulling her slowly, and a few other men grabbing on to help him. Her arm was back over the bow now, followed by her shoulders, back, pelvis and legs. She was slumped in a ball on the hard wooden floor, with women rushing to put blankets on her and soup into her mouth. James kneeled down beside her, wiping the rain off her face, then his own. She got up slowly, resting her weight again on her arms. James took her head in his hands, surveying her every inch. She pulled it back. Gaining full awareness back, she shook her head. “I am all right.” She said softly. “You nearly bloody well went overboard!” One of the men around her shouted. James remained silent. Anne’s spontaneous and dangerous behaviour was wearing him down, little by little. “I’m fine.” She said, lying through her teeth. Truth was, Anne was not anywhere close. She had more fire in her than ever before, having come within one metre of certain death. She had felt herself want it. It wasn’t the death itself she wanted, it was to be at peace with the ocean, to be part of it, to be as one. It was her newest and greatest love. She kept her eyes on the ground. James got back onto his feet, and made his way down to their bunks. He was holding on to all he could with Anne, and needed time to let it all catch up with him. Anne ignored it, only wanting to get back to her sea, to be near it. Slowly, after double checking she was ok, the crowd around her left. She did, however, keep her blankets on. Making her way back to the bow, she rested there again. Closing her eyes, she felt for the statue underneath. “Yer not th’ only one, ye know.” A voice said, interrupting her. She opened her eyes and whipped around. The old man from the dock had followed her to the bow, dropping his hands on the rail. Anne said nothing, giving him a narrow eyed resentful look. She wandered why he kept interrupting her. “Yer not, me lass. There have been many others tha’ feel tied to th’ sea, each in their own way.” He said hoarsely, unaffected by Anne’s gaze. She turned back around, facing the horizon. He sighed slowly, and Anne could hear what sounded like his bones rattling inside. “Look a’ her. How could ye not? I knew it, ye know, as soon as I saw ye, I knew it. Yer one of ‘em.” He said again. As if Anne had replied, the man continued to have a conversation. “One of what?” She asked finally, giving in to curiosity. “Ye know… One of ‘em free folk....” He said, a sudden toothless grin appearing. Before Anne could reply directly, he turned around, leaving her with her thoughts. “I am not.” Anne replied, confused as to what she was defending. She wasn’t in much of a mood for talking, let alone arguing. The rain was still falling, gathering in little pools over the deck. At this, the old man turned around, leaving Anne on her own. She watched him go, his left foot with a noticeable limp. The night was getting older, and darkness was becoming more predominant than light. As the ship’s oiled lamps were made to be off at 9’ o clock, Anne felt herself becoming wary, her eyes becoming heavier to lift each time she blinked. She yawned, her knees becoming weak. She felt herself drifting again, however different from the last. Curled up on the wooden deck floor, Anne Bonny lay sleeping, underneath the blackened night sky. ---

Hi all. I hope you are all keeping well. I have a question regarding the wooden statues that were so often found at the front of the ships - mermaids etc. Do they have a significance? What did they represent/relate to? Were there specific ones for specific countries or departments etc? Forgive me if there is already a post about this - I am just musing here, and would appreciate any advice or opinions Warmest regards, Jacqui

I definitely agree with this; I doubt that the rules and regulations, though stated, would have been followed through with 100%, or would have been as detailed as they are today. If only one could go back in time to witness the realism of it. Currently, we only have Hollywood and a small handful of reliable sources to gauge upon :-). Warm regards, Jacqui

This is a great idea! I look forward to reading this thread very much. Warm regards, Jacqui

Hi Misson! Thank you very much your report. I am 110% open to all opinion and advice - it really does help one to develop. Though it may seem so at the moment, she isn't portrayed as a romantic in this either - as the story develops, she begins to understand that what she felt for James was not love at all, but instead a sort of necessity. The 'believe in love' thing develops too - But I have been thinking about changing this as you have stated. To me, she seems to be a very independent woman - doesn't need a man in her life kind of deal :-). Creating a new character would definitely help me to stand out amongst the other Anne Bonny stories,and is definitely something I will consider. Thanks again for your words, Warm regards, Jacqui