Mary Read

1782, CHARLES TOWN, SOUTH CAROLINA

The day we met Mary Read, we were anchored down at another dock, to resupply and celebrate our newest spoils. Our usual method of celebration was enjoying the pleasures of the local tavern, drinking our fill and flirting with anything that had legs.

It was the first time I went into a tavern with the crew as myself, as Anne Bonny and not Tom. We received questioning looks; a few judgemental, a few sleazy, a few curious. It was unnatural, abnormal to see a woman amongst pirates, behaving as one of them. We paid them no mind afterwards.

Three minutes into our celebration, we were approached. Or rather, I was. I knew instantaneously she wasn’t a man, that she was doing as I did. And with her still dressed in her disguise, I could only assume she yet revealed her true self.

I never told you precisely what Jack looked like and I do not plan to. Nor will I give you the luxury of knowing what Mary looked like. That will remain within my memory, mine alone, taken to the grave. A mere description would not do them justice anyhow.

Instead, as with Jack, all you shall know is that she was radiant, brillant, and bold. And our love for her was instant.

She sat at our table, hair tied low with mischief in her smile. She ignored the men in favor of me; I told her my life, she told me of her life, a mutual agreement without saying so.

She was England born, regretfully a girl. Her mother was widowed shortly thereafter. Instantaneously, her mother dressed her as a Tom. And never stopped. Because of her actions, they gained an inheritance from her dead husband’s family, who truly believed Mary was a male. Unfortunately, the money ran dry by Mary’s twelfth year.

She was forced to procure employment. She was a footboy, then a sailor, then a military soldier. It was during her time as a soldier that she met a man whom she fell in love with. She revealed her secret to him; he accepted her. They wed. They left the military and owned an inn. She lived as Mary, not as Tom.

They only had three years together before he passed to the next life. Again, she was Tom. Again, she was a soldier of the military. She didn’t stay there long; it wasn’t the same without her husband.

And that is what brought her to that tavern. A need for something new, something more. As Jack had done for me, I suggested she join the life of piracy and be free with us, without having to hide her true self.

She gleefully accepted. She did not need to think further on the matter; she could see that the men cared not that I was a woman, nor would they care of her womanhood.

She joined us aboard the following morning, breasts no longer concealed.

Such a friend there’d never been than the likes of Mary Read. Sister, kindred companion. She was deadly like myself, proving her worth on our ship. We spent many an afternoon talking, about anything or everything. We bonded.

Within a weeks time of knowing her, she was my love right next to Jack. We were together, the three of us. We were one. And my heart couldn’t be any fuller with my sister pirate queen.

APRIL 2025

Nettie briefly pauses the storytelling to gauge Lainey’s reaction. Lainey is smiling to herself, giggling under her breath like a teenage girl; with it comes mumbles about true love, polyamorous soulmates, and the like.

She simply just appeared to be amazed that such things existed even back then. That poly relationships and homosexuality, and cross-dressing, were all subjects that were heard of then. Perhaps not liked by all, as it isn’t now, but it wasn’t a foreign concept.

As Lainey continues her soft rambling, Nettie frowns, disappointed.

It wasn’t the reaction she’d been hoping for.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way the story is written doesn’t matter. Professional, simple, perfect, sloppy. What matters most is that the story is being retold again for those who may have never heard of her.

Plus, Karliene is a lovely singer who deserves some more subscribers. She didn’t/doesn’t just write/sing songs for/about Anne Bonny. She also has songs about witches, middle-earth, Anne Boleyn, and others.

If you haven’t caught on, lines are made bold (sometimes italic but hasn’t been the case since the first two chapters) because it’s a line from the song that’s linked; I’ve been doing this for every chapter and will continue doing it.

Bits and pieces of information about Anne Bonny and Mary Read come from the wikipedia page and various websites Google linked. It may be true; it may be exaggerated. That’s why I am calling this historical fiction.

And sorry that the lingo is a bit too modern; it’s very difficult to write how people once spoke when you don’t actually know much of how they spoke, even with some research.

RIP to my Grandmother. It’s 7:28pm as I write this; we just learnt of her passing. We’d been mostly no contact with her because of family drama that happened back around 2017ish-2018ish, maybe before then, maybe after. It’s been a long time since we’d seen her, and now we won’t ever be able to. It was complications from surgery, which she got to remove clogging; she was alright, then she wasn’t. We are all deeply saddened by this; we loved her very much, despite our differences and the drama that happened. I wish we had more time with her. She’s with her partner now.

I’m glad you weren’t alone when it happened but I’m not glad that my Aunt had to witness you go.