Ahoy, fellow Pirates, privateers and buccaneers (or dreamers, like me!).
I have been lurking around this forum for quite some time now, and have finally got the courage to join as a member, and to begin posting. For a few years, I have been working on a novel based loosely on what we know of Anne Bonny. No title yet, it will come in time. In the mean time, I would like to humbly offer my prologue and my first chapter for dissection, opinion and advice to you all. I know I need to work on period language, clothing etc, and I will. Please kindly enjoy, and let me know what you think. Warmest regards to you all,
Jacqui.
----
PROLOUGE
The waves grew around her, crashing wildly at her feet.
The thunderclouds cracked open, spilling their thick raindrops on the white sandy shore.
“Mary! You need to come in, it’s going to get worse!” her Mother yelled from their small cottage, the howling wind running away with her voice.
Ignoring her, Mary took another step into the grey sea, shutting her eyes. She felt the waves getting stronger and stronger, and felt her soft linen dress soaking up the chilled salty water.
“Mary,” her mother repeated, “I know about these things, come inside the house at once!”
Mary opened her eyes with a sigh, glancing back towards the cottage set upon an aged dune. She turned on her heel, kicking up the soggy sand. As she ran towards it, lighting soared behind her, splintering in the ocean. The stone walled cottage crawled nearer.
She ran inside, her wet dress clinging tightly to her thin legs. The dark brown curls that usually framed her face beautifully were now drenched and upset, creating a clashing contrast with her hazel eyes.
“Mother, when did you become so boring?” Mary asked jokingly.
“It’s instinct.” She replied, smiling.
Mary sat down in the wooden kitchen chair, gratefully accepting the cup of warmed honey water her had Mother prepared. Anne poured herself a cup, taking a sip as she took a seat opposite her daughter.
Her fiery red hair strongly matched that of her personality, and the respect it unconsciously demanded. Anne Bonny, the woman Pirate legend, sipped her honey water, wondering why her daughter tended to always stare at her.
“What now?” She asked, her mingled accent becoming evident. She was becoming used to the exploitative look in her daughter’s eye.
“Tell me more.. About them.... The sea, Mum... and Mary...’, she said, taking a quick sip of her water, and added quietly, ‘tell me about Jack”. Mary replied in a whisper, shifting her glance to her swinging legs.
Anne thought for a moment, taking a deep breath, remembering every ounce of her adventures aboard the changing sea, in the arms of the only man she had ever truly loved – every memory she had tried to forget during the years since his death. Exhaling quietly, Anne felt her entire being fill with emotions beyond her own control. Studying her daughter’s excited face, full of anticipation and a hint of fear, Anne couldn't help being reminded of him. Mary’s eyes, a perfect mix between her own and his, brought out the tanned skin she had inherited from her father. Anne took pain in swallowing the growing lump in her throat, and begun to speak in a hushed voice. --- CHAPTER ONE
“Get out.” He said, his lowered voice quivering. He thrust an aged finger towards the dark, wooden door.
Anne’s young, bright eyes flickered dangerously between his outstretched hand and his stern, unmovable face.
“I won’t come back.” She said, her sentence sounding more like a question.
He didn't move, nor did he say a word.
Anne took a step back, sweeping her tear filled eyes across the large living space for the last time. She took one final look at her Father’s hurt face and marched out the door, holding her head high.
As the raindrops cascaded onto her head, she felt numb to the world, but would not allow her Father the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt her.
With an ounce of hesitation, Anne began walking in a familiar direction, wiping a wet piece of darkened red hair out of her grass green eyes as the thunder rumbled her bones. Holding nothing but her pain, she let the reality of her last few moments reach her.
At almost sixteen years of age, Anne was barely a woman, with fire inside her soul. Having spent the majority of her life without a mother to influence her ways, Anne had become known around her town as a lady not to be crossed, with a short temper and an unmovable strong will. Her Father, William, had become a pawn in her search for something more, an action that often resulted in her loss of friends and affection, but an addition of fear and respect grown from whispers among the town folk. William deemed it ‘inappropriate’ and ‘unladylike’, which only pushed Anne further. She swore, she scowled, and she spoke her mind ever since she had learnt how too.
As she walked through the wet lanes of Charlestown, Carolina, she held her arms high above her head, feeling the rain gush down them and onto her shoulders. She outstretched them, tilting her proud chin upwards, opening her mouth ever so slightly, tasting the sweet water.
As she approached a darkened alleyway, the struggling moonlight stumbled upon a tall figure, black hair wet with anticipation of his fiancé’s arrival. Her feet directing themselves, Anne fell into his dark arms, her thoughts justifying her stubborn decision.
“What did he say, Anne?” James asked, holding his breath as he pressed his body into Anne’s. He felt her tension, her stiffened strong frame, and knew the outcome was not what he had hoped for.
“He doesn’t agree.” She stated, looking over James’ shoulder into the cobbled road at the end of the alleyway.
In three words, Anne had slashed James’ hopes for a prosperous future, achieved without much effort on his part. The owner of a well recognized tobacco plantation, Anne’s father, had become rather wealthy during his time in Charleston. James felt his mind race, trying to figure out his next move to secure the property, and its fortunes, for himself and Anne.
“Let us go speak to him”, James suggested, “We can show him we are right for one another.” He said breathlessly, proceeding to take Anne’s hands into his.
“It’s not an option, James.” Anne replied, stepping back with a hardened look in her eye. She had learnt how to deal with fear, pain, anger and hurt by allowing her strong temper to take control. “I have decided that I am of the age that I do not need a father in my life any longer.” She added, cementing her anger towards William. During the heated argument, he had informed her that he did not grant his approval for marriage to James, as he was a poor sailor with not much to offer his daughter. She neglected to mention this to James, along with the dis-ownership from her Father’s family, his name, his estate and all aligning finances that resulted from the malicious fight just moments ago. Anne also kept aside the horrid words she had heard from her father about marrying a man of color, let alone anything further.
James thought for a moment, his brow furrowing in the lightning scratched night sky. “What is to happen to your plantation then? Once he has passed? Who is to take over?” He asked her, his voice coated with a thin line of anger.
“Does it matter?” Anne challenged, locking her green eyes onto his. They forced him out of the shadows, revealing his stature. His dark brown skin was barely visible in the night, his black hair saluting the moon. His eyes were of a natural colour, giving off a warm feeling in contrast to his furrowed, thick brows. He shook his head, turning towards the road with Anne by his side.
The pair walked on, Anne’s wet gingerly locks sticking to her face. A light shone in the distance, and Anne recognized it, as she had walked this path many a time. James Bonny, the man she was now betrothed too, lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of Charlestown, surrounded by a messy little garden. She held her head high, he kept his down. His plan had run amok.
William had wished for his daughter to marry a respectable man, taking her place as a good lady of society. Instead, Anne had frustrated her Father for years through her tomboy ways, and her constant search of adventure and excitement. It was through this that she had wandered to the town dock, meeting James for the first time.
Anne, feeling the tension and not liking it, took the control she was so used to taking.
Taking his hand, she put it around her side, letting it rest on her now developing hips. James looked away. A flicker of anger returned to Anne’s emotions, and she threw his hand back down.
“What is it James? Is it not all going how you planned? Tell me James, now.” Anne said fiercely, a quiet voice of conscious revealing her fiance’s plan.
“Anne, keep walking.” He replied, his voice quiet.
At the command from a man, Anne stopped dead in her tracks, cocking one wet eyebrow in disbelief.
James, however, kept walking. Anne let out an angst sigh, to which James spun around.
“I demand you tell me this instance James Bonny, for if you don’t I shall refuse to marry you.” Anne said, putting her fisted hands onto her hips.
“Anne, I simply wished to have your Father’s blessing.” James lied. At age 32, he had had quite a good amount of experience in lying. He had made his small fortune in pirating, just along the coasts of North Carolina with a small crew. They would attack fishermen and small boats, plundering them for anything worth a penny. However, on marrying Anne, he had hoped for more, provided from her wealthy father.
Anne folded her arms and continued walking to his cottage – Her new home. She let the feeling of anger stay a while. She liked it.
James opened the door to his cottage, letting Anne go in first. She looked around, seeing a few of her less important possessions lying on the ground. Already, she felt as if her love for James was fleeting. His cottage had no walls separating the bed from the kitchen. Everything had been pushed into the one room, with the washroom outside.
“We must be up at an early hour tomorrow, as the priest is coming to say the holy words. Do you have your whites?” James asked, rushing his sentence.
Anne nodded slowly in agreement.
James shrugged in reply, pouring a cup of almost fresh milk for Anne and a cup of rum for himself. As he handed it to her, she looked from the milk to the rum, and proceeded to grab the latter. He pulled it away, knowing full well Anne needed nothing more to fuel her anger.
“You’re barely sixteen Anne.” He said, sipping his slowly.
“Yet you are joining with me.” She replied hotly.
“Aye. Goodnight, Anne.” He replied, swallowing his rum in just a few gulps. After a moments silence, he proceeded to his messy bed, and climbed in, blowing out the candles.
And so, Anne sat, glowing hotly in the darkness. Her milk was warming in her hands, as James started snoring. She felt as if she could get out if it still – Yet she didn’t want to. Something kept her to him. Love, she thought. And so the milk cooled.
Anne had always believed in love, in the true essence of it. Any man that was unlucky enough to hurt her, she had hurt right back. When she was ten years of age, her neighbour had kissed another girl. Unknowingly, he had ripped Anne’s heart out. She proudly marched to his house, knocked on the door, and on him answering – Punched him in the stomach. The boy fell, curved at the doorstep, not having a clue what had just happened.
She was certain she had found the true essence with James, as they had been seeing each other for at least 4 months before he discussed marriage with her. He had always been interested in her Father’s plantation, and the money he made from it. James had worked there for a few years during his younger years, watching Anne grow up.
Love, she thought. And so she smiled, and so she drank.
Putting her empty cup into the washbowl, she crawled into bed next to James, putting her warm hand around his stomach. She was sure she had felt him straighten.
As she fell asleep, Anne’s half-conscious mind conjured a new idea. It was her Father’s fault their marriage was not perfect, as she had planned it to be. It was him, after all, who had not given James his blessing. He had hurt Anne’s marriage. And, as Anne finally fell asleep, she felt as if he needed to feel pain too. --- Thoughts? Advice? Opinions? I plan to follow her entire journey, but as not a lot is known about the details of her life, and there are a lot of options as to what happened to her during her life, I am adding extra ingredients to the mix. I hope you will all enjoy it. Jacqui
