Mary Read: Woman Pirate

Mary Read Pirate Prologue: Adrift

We were eight weeks out of Ostend, and all but becalmed, wallowing in the troughs of the long Atlantic swells. The Trade Winds had failed us, we were on quarter rations of mouldy biscuit, the rancid water was all but gone. The Dutch Fleet we'd set sail with had lost us weeks before in a squall, and the dying First Mate swore there were fearsome pirates all along this latitude. When I asked if the English Navy were not patrolling these waters, he declared them too busy trading throughout the Caribbean for their own profit.

The bloody flux had whittled away at us since we left the Canaries astern, and now with the scurvy upon us, those who were not dying fast, raving and shitting blood, were dying slowly, weak and woeful, losing teeth and eyesight. The First Mate raved that we'd make Charles Town on the next breeze, but Death loomed over our stricken vessel, and the next morning we dropped his corpse into the sea, the Godless dog of a Captain not granting it even the courtesy of a winding sheet, sharks upon it as it hit the water.

I thought 'twould be a quicker, cleaner Death, to drop overboard after him, and cursed the day I had let him sign me on. Yet the grey despair that had beset me following the death of my Dutch spouse, after four hard years of love and hatred, had left me with so little care for my own existence, that anything had seemed preferable to another Dutch Winter.

When the First Mate had smacked a rum down in front of me, in a damp tavern in Ostend, and waxed lyrical on the luscious beauty of the Caribbean, of turquoise seas and tropic heat, I had felt my fog-bound horizons lift. He had parried my disgust at the merchantman's wages by claiming that with Queen Anne's war over, sailors were begging for bread all over Britain. Then, instead of returning to England to search for my mother, I had let his thin promise of a warm and distant land beguile me onto this Death ship.

The Captain had baited me for an Englishman ever since we first sailed, berating the First Mate for signing me on. He had boasted of fighting the English as a boy, remembered every squabble over colonies that our two sea-going nations had ever engaged in, and spat a list of English atrocities at me. I told him I'd spent my youth fighting to keep his homeland free of the French, and had nothing to show for it but scars and empty pockets. He had cursed the English as traitorous dogs for their sudden withdrawal from that war, and I had cursed the day I'd joined his crew.

By noon, the sun beat down hotter than Hell itself, and I could no longer ignore the pleas of the dying men for water. The fat Dutch Captain had declared it a waste to help them, yet he was still in his cabin, immersed in his vast lunch and bottle of wine. I knew 'twas almost time for his daily ritual of the noon sighting, yet was sure I had time enough. With the eyes of the surviving Dutch crewmen hard upon me, I approached the water barrel, scraped out a full dipper, and crept over to the five men lying raving in the thin shade of the luffing mainsail. Ignoring my own fevered need, I dared give them only a sip each, though they begged me hard for more.

Then the Captain's roar spun me straight into his fist, and I was flat on my back, my head ringing with the force of the blow. Instantly, I was on my feet, and reaching for the blade he'd already stolen from me. My speed and fury made him step back, blustering. "Fool of an Englishman, this is not London, where every servant wears a sword and thinks himself better than his master. On my ship, I have the sword, and I am King!"

I knew that as soon as he overcame his fright, he would kill me. He was the only one aboard consuming a full ration, and there was none who could stand up to him. He would string me up off the yard-arm and watch me dance, and any protest would be mutiny. I thought to make a shambling run for my sword, hanging up in his cabin, and at least die fighting.

Then the lookout yelled: "Sail! Two sails to the north Captain, Sir!" The Captain spun on his heel, away from my glare, and strode off to find signal flags, for without the help of these distant vessels, there would soon be none left to sail this stinking tub for him.

For an instant I thought I must swoon, and staggered to the gunwales for a bucket of sea water to cool my aching head. The ocean was so deep it looked purple, and it was strange to me that it came up clear in the bucket. My thirst raged, and I wanted to fall into the ocean, and swallow until I drowned. I dumped the bucket of water over my head, and my mind cleared.

Cookie yelled that dinner was ready, and I dropped below with the others, into the foetid heat and darkness of the forecastle. I messed with two Dutchmen, the third dead a week now, and one of the others very shaky. I could not stop myself from calculating how much more we would have to eat if he died today, though 'twas more likely that they who would be sharing my dinner, once the Captain found his courage.

When the maggoty mess of old biscuits was dropped in front of us, I was glad of the darkness, but still closed my eyes to eat the squirming mouthful. Compared to this, even the rats were starting to look toothsome. Then we held our cramping bellies and grumbled together in something like fellowship, while one old sea dog did his best to give us a song. My messmates were sturdy, with a stubbornness that kept them steady under this hard oppression. I didn't dislike them, yet I knew I would give all their lives for a cool, foaming tankard of ale.

Then the water bell sounded, and we climbed back on deck, the whole crew gathered about the barrel, waiting in terrible anticipation for the Captain to dole out the precious, stinking water. When he ambled over, full of scorn for our crawling need, I avoided looking him in the eye for fear he'd see murder, my fingers longing for the uncompromising rasp of steel. And then I was afraid of my soul's fury, and remembered all the grim tales I'd heard of ships found adrift, all sails set and no hands aboard. For once killing begins, who can stop it? I'd seen enough of war to know that evil has its own impetus.

So I waited with the rest of them for the half-full dipper, praying to the God who had abandoned me that he would not dash my water to the deck. Some swallowed it at once for the blessed relief of wetness, and then eyed the rest of us greedily. I sipped mine slowly, relishing the taste, the way the water slicked over my dry tongue and down my throat. Then it was gone, my thirst seemed greater than ever, and there was nothing for me to do but take the helm, and watch for a breeze.

The rest of the crew had abandoned their fishing lines, to stare at the two sails to the north of us, both vessels clearly visible now. The young midshipman muttered that they were headed straight for us, and they'd be sure to give us a barrel of fresh water. I thought too that the approaching ships would tell us how far from Charles Town we were, and then this slow torture might seem to have an end to it. The Captain raised signal flags, and by the change of the next watch, I was amazed to see how fast they were arrowing in on us.

"Look close", the old sea dog muttered, leaning on the gunwales next to me. "Me thinks me old eyes see English colours."

"Englishmen?" I stared until I too saw the English flag at her masthead. My heart soared, and I instantly resolved to stow away and work my passage home amongst my own countrymen.

"They make more of this breeze than seems possible", the young midshipman muttered.

The old sailor at my elbow nodded. "Aye, look at 'em schoon. They're island vessels, swift an' shallow. Won't see sails like 'em nowhere but 'mongst the Malacca pirates o' the Indies, who're always swift to attack, and faster to run." He pointed out their mainmasts, set well back from the long, narrow bows, and the long, curving sails meeting the wind like the wings of a bird, sending the vessels flying atop the waves rather than ploughing through them. The smallest was a single-masted sloop, and the old Dutchman called the two-masted vessel a schooner. By sunset, we could clearly see their English colours fluttering brightly from the maintops. Our crew was eagerly crowding the starboard side, praying they would come upon us before night fell, no oaths against English traitors now.

Then both vessels struck their English colours, and in their places they raised the skull and crossbones. The air was filled with mad drumming and the shrieks of the damned, the sloop's rail crowded with demonic black men howling the most hideous oaths. Then the schooner sent a shot straight over our bows. One voice rang out clearly over the din: "Drop ye sails and surrender instantly, and we'll give ye quarter. Resist us, and ye'll feed the sharks!"

"Dear God, pirates!", whimpered the unmanned Captain, white-faced and stricken with terror. "Say nothing against me. I was always just and fair!" Not one man would meet his eyes, yet I could not scorn his terror. We had all heard tales of the abandoned cruelty of these renegades when faced with a Captain condemned by his own men, though 'twas said they would not touch a common sailor's seachest.

Yet the English command to drop the sails had not been understood by the frightened Dutchmen, and the schooner lay off our bow, her guns levelled at us across the rolling waves. Fearing a battle that we could not win, it was I who unwound the sheets from the belaying pins, and dropped our luffing mainsail hard to the deck. The pirates then swung their sloop alongside us, threw grappling hooks to hold us fast, and poured aboard. We were helpless before we'd even thought to grab a musket. I was frightened, yet I could not help admiring their seamanship.

The pirates were fearsome, some truly black men, others with blackened faces, all of them bearing cutlasses, muskets, and pistols, and cursing hard. From amidst these ruffians, an elegantly bearded young Irishman stepped lightly up to our quaking Captain, his hand on the hilt of a rapier. Doffing an absurdly feathered hat, he made a graceful bow. "Captain o' this tub are ye? Before the Devil, man, ye made a wise choice surrenderin' so fast." He raised an eyebrow at the Captain's desperate miming. "What, no English? Yet someone understood enough to cut yer sails." His sharp eyes swept over us, and knowing that the crew were about to push me at him, I stepped forward, snatched my cap off, and made the best bow I could, under the circumstances.

"Mark Read at your service, Sir."

"Sir me no Sirs, Sirrah, for we are all but men here at sea, until we are bones. I am Captain Sam Bellamy, and that pretty schooner is handled by Captain LeBoose, a Frenchmen with no love o' the English or the Dutch. I take it this fat fool is yer Captain. By yer bruised face, I'd say he's also a cruel bastard."

His merry grin convinced me he was more a rascal than a rogue, yet I still would not condemn the Dutch Captain to his mercy. "'Tis more the bad food and lack of water that has done for us."

"I swear by the Devil, any man who joins our Company has his fill o' fine victuals and wine, and oranges fresh from Bermuda. And there are no tyrants to lord it o'er the freeborn. Think on it lad, yer skinny enough. Now, what's the cargo, and where's his cash?"

My mind struggled with the sweet memory of oranges as the Dutch crew were herded down into the forecastle, and bolted in. "I know nothing of the Captain's money. The cargo is mostly wine from the Canaries, Holland lace, and Delft blue china."

The brigands immediately tore into our hold, and began passing our cargo to the sloop. "All o' which we can sell for a pretty price to the Governor o' Saint Thomas", Captain Bellamy gloated, "though the wine we'll drink ourselves, eh boys?" A crate of Madeira was handed up, and bottles liberally passed around. Bellamy pulled the cork out of a bottle with his teeth, and gallantly offered it to me. I declined but he insisted. "Nay lad, yer almost done in, and ye'll need the strength o' the wine to see ye through a nasty business. We don't want ye swoonin' away on us, just as he tells us where his hoard is stashed. Come now, I ask ye sweetly, take a wee drop."

I sipped, and then, under the pirate Captain's urging, sipped again. The wine exploded in my blood, and I suddenly felt almost equal to the drama. "Aye lad, that's better. I like ye lad, I'll tell ye straight. Ye should run with us. Now, as to the money, they always carry sufficient to fill the hold with sugar and rum for the return voyage. Tell the fat whoreson that whether I let me mates tickle it out o' him, or he tells me freely, I'll not leave without it."

I explained this to the scowling Dutch Captain, who protested he had nothing. Two burly pirates then hustled him into his own cabin and bound him to his chair, whereupon a handsome, yellow-eyed mulatto tied a fuse around his red face. "Tell him we'll burn his eyes out if he won't tell us where the money is", he hissed at me. I did as I was told, the Dutchman cursed me, and the mulatto grinned and lit the fuse.

The Dutchman screamed like an animal as it sparked its way around his face, and babbled of a compartment in the floor by his bed. At my nod, Bellamy cut the fuse, and at my directions, the pirates tore the floor up. A heavy sack was dropped clanking onto the Captain's table, and Bellamy poured out a pile of gold, to the pirates loud huzzas.

The Dutchman cursed him, and Bellamy struck him hard across the face, still bound though he was. "Aye scum, ye'd cheat the men o' the food they need to survive the voyage, just to keep a few guilders more for yeself. Keep yer curses to yeself too ye dog, or I swear by the Devil I'll give ye to me mates to sharpen their knives on!"

I saw my rapier then, hanging above the Captain's bed, and when I buckled it about me, I was again filled with courage and hope. Bellamy laughed. "A duellist, eh?" He passed me another bottle of the Captain's wine. "Ye can't stay here, and wear that. Ye'll have to join us lad, for a free life and a merry one. There are no tyrants on our ships. I am Captain only because the men see that the wind loves me, and because I'm always first aboard in a fight. Nay lad, don't deny me for this filthy barge and a cruel Captain! The Brethren o' the Sea are the best men afloat, our vessels the fastest, the West Indies trading the richest, and our crew the merriest of all the Companies out on the account." His twinkling blue eyes looked straight into my soul. Yet I shook my head, and he shrugged, thinking me a coward.

As we stepped back onto the deck, the sun finally dropped into the sea, stars filled the sky above us, and the pirates lit smoking torches. Bellamy called down to those in the hold, and when they shouted back that she was almost empty, he ordered them back aboard their own vessels. Then he turned to me again. "This is yer last chance, Mark Read. We are well-manned, and have no need to force ye, yet ye'd be a fool to deny me. We've all agreed to stay together until we've five hundred pounds in each pocket, and then we're bound for the Bahamas to make merry with the boys and the booze. Come, we'll celebrate our good fortune tonight, with wine and dance. What say ye, lad? Tis either that or Death, for yer fat Captain will not forgive ye his ticklin'. He'll drop ye overboard for sure."

"In truth, I care little if he does."

"That's the lack o' food speakin'. Come man, another swig o' wine. And remember, Life can begin anew out o' nothin'. This is it lad. Meet yer fate squarely. Run with us."

"I cannot, Captain Bellamy, though I'm tempted by your kindness. 'Tis not the merriment I'm afraid of, 'tis the killing. I'll tell you frankly, I've no taste for cruelty, and little greed to spur me on to murder."

"Murder, what murder? Did ye see any murder done here today? Wasn't it neat, tidy, business-like? Do ye think yer crew more cowardly than any other, just 'cause the haul was the poorest? They all surrender fast enough, when they see our numbers, and a whisper o' pain is enough to make us rich men. The tyrants we tickle always favour us by embellishin' our cruelties, so they don't look such cowards, and that helps terrify the rest into a quick surrender. Come now Mark Read, would ye always be a slave, or would ye be free?"

"I have been rich and poor, my own master, and the slave you see me now, yet I have never been a thief."

"Yer a good sort o' fool, lad. The rich use God as a cudgel to keep ye poor and workin' hard, while they take whatever they want, callin' themselves honest because they have made the law to cover them like a blanket. We steal from them with no cover but our courage, and the Devil take the hindmost. We sell the finery cheap to the Governors of all the colonies, who will not buy expensive goods direct from Europe. 'Tis the London merchants who truly hate us, and spur the Navy on to hunt us, though they are too busy convoying ships for a quarter o' the cargo."

"As for murder, have we not all fought, by land and sea, because they told us their wars were just? And did we not kill for them without a pang, for the pittance they offered us? Aye, ye were there, and it sickened ye, I can see that it did. We may still fight, but 'tis only when we must, and then only for our lives. We may be thieves, yet we are honest about it."

The handsome young mulatto who had organised the torturing of the Captain hauled himself out of the hold and swaggered over, his gold earring and yellow eyes glinting in the light of the torches. "It's done, Sam. Time to cast off", he drawled, eyeing me slyly. "Have you found us a new mate?"

"Nay my dear Paul, he declares he prefers Death at the hands of that fat Dutch Captain."

The young rogue looked at me hard, and shrugged. "You're blind, Sam. This is no man. This is only the husk of a man. His heart is already dead."

Bellamy considered me with one eye closed, seeing the truth of the mulatto's words in my face. "Then there's nothin' for it. Clap a pistol to his head Paul, and he can consider himself a forced man. We'll buy him a rum and a whore in Nassau, and he'll not find life so worth the losin'. Take him aboard, I'll help with the last o' the booty, and we'll cast off."

"I said I'd not go with you! My conscience does not allow it!"

"What can a suicide speak o' conscience? Nay lad, 'tis a mortal sin to reject life while it still bubbles in yer veins. Ye've one last chance to snatch at it again, and prove that ye deserve the agony o' labour that brought ye into this world. Run with us lad, ye've nothin' to lose."

Paul Williams aimed his pistol squarely at my chest. "You're forced, man. Now, fetch your seachest. We're leaving this pitiful tub."

I dropped down into the stench of the forecastle, reassured the worried crew that the pirates were leaving, and the Captain was alive. They asked me what I was about, and I told them the pirates would have me, though 'twas sore against my will. With their surly eyes upon me, I packed my hammock into my sea chest, and bidding them farewell, hauled it feebly up the ladder. Williams shook his head at me in scorn.

Bellamy only laughed. "The rapier speaks for him, Paul. I swear by the Devil, he'll be the worst of us within a week. Now, LeBoose must be impatient for news, and we should be well away before dawn."

I shook my head when Williams again turned his pistol on me. "Don't bother with that. I have no great wish to join you pirating, yet I can see life has left me no choice. I'll join you freely, if I can freely leave."

"Sign the Articles that cover this cruise, and you're a rich man and a free one at the end of it. Until then, you're one of us, sworn to stand true to the Brethren."

I nodded, ashamed at the sudden lightness of my heart. "Aye, I'm one of you. God help me."

I stepped aboard the crowded pirate sloop, my sword at my side and my seachest on my shoulder. I knew that though I had lived twenty-five years in this hard world abiding by my conscience, that was over now. I had fought bravely in Queen Anne's Navy and Marlborough's Army, and had done my best to earn an honest living when the war was over, yet now I was an outcast. As soon as he made port, the Dutch Captain would swear a deposition against me for piracy, and chances were, I'd end my days dancing on a rope. Still, I knew enough to show none of this regret to the pirates. I had made my choice, and must now live with it.

How had a woman as honest as I come to this?

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