The Unbinding of Mary Reade Read online

  “And this fair lady is Anne Bonny,” said Captain Jack, turning to the girl. “You were right! He speaks English.”

  Anne nudged her, eyes sparkling. “The boy who shot his own captain, to join the pirate band!” She made Mary’s crime sound like one of the stories the boys on the Wapping docks had told. The pirate tales that had enthralled her so. Mary sounded like someone else, someone grand and fearless.

  Jack continued. “Well, I must say, you made quite the impression with that bit of marksmanship. Our crew needs boys like you. Boys ready to seize a moment before it passes. Boys clever enough to be sure they’re on the winning side.”

  Mary looked over the gunwale at the nearby shore of Curaçao. The beaches and trees were clearly visible off the port bow, with the promise of Willemstad just beyond. But that promise hadn’t ever been for her. The kapitein had been planning to lock his sailors in the hold overnight to make sure they couldn’t disappear and leave him crewless for his journey back to Rotterdam. The pirates, on the other hand, would surely let her go free, head to shore if she wanted to. She could take a jolly boat to Willemstad and find passage from there to Nassau. She was so close to finding Nat now.

  “You look near starving,” Anne added. She leaned in as if to whisper a secret in confidence. “Don’t you think, whatever you was looking forward to there, it can wait till you’ve a little meat on your bones and a bit of treasure in your pocket?” The bare skin of the pirate girl’s neck was smudged with gunpowder, where she might have run her fingers to push her hair back in battle. She’d bird-nested her tresses into a mass of windblown curls, frizzled and festooned with bits of ribbon and a tiny gold chain. The pirates let this girl sail with them—just like this, undisguised.

  Of course they wouldn’t accept a skinny boy-girl like Mary in the same way. She’d have to be more careful than ever in the company of such ruffians. She didn’t have a captain protecting her pretty arse, if her secret were discovered.

  “Well?” asked Anne. She seemed amused by Mary’s open-mouthed staring.

  Mary dropped her gaze and looked over at Paddy sitting hunched on a crate, looking despondent. It had been a godsend having someone look out for her these past few months, and she was loath to give him up. “Me friend there, he speaks English as well.” She met Jack’s eyes boldly. “If I’m coming, he’s coming, too. He’ll make a loyal and brave crewmate. Despite some, ah, understandable mistakes that were made in the heat of battle.”

  Jack raised his brows. “That old Irish bloke that tried to kill me?” he asked, amused.

  “Absolutely not,” said Anne. “It’s enough that I didn’t kill him.”

  “Give him a chance, miss,” said Mary. “You’ll be glad to have his loyalty. There’s no one I trust more.”

  “I like loyalty,” said Jack, glancing at Anne. “He can come, so long as he knows what side he’s on. Remember, I’m the one who chose to take you on.”

  “Of course,” said Mary, heart accelerating. “You won’t regret it.”

  “Look at this!” a pirate crowed, running up and holding out his arms. Dozens of gold and silver pocket watches hung from his hands on glistening chains. From what Mary had gathered, they were part of a huge parcel of metal luxury items the Zilveren Vissen had carried from Rotterdam—letter openers, candlesticks, paperweights, compasses. “This might be as good a haul as the Kingston!”

  “See?” said Anne to Jack. “If you’d gone seeking pardon when you first started going on about it, you’d be this much poorer!”

  Jack smiled ruefully. “That’s why a good captain always listens to his crew.”

  The man handed Jack a fistful of chains. “Aye, and that’s why you’re captain now, not Vane.”

  Gold flashed as the trinkets swung in the sun. Mary was mesmerized by their glint.

  “Here you are.” Jack picked off a watch and tossed it to her, offhand. “That’s for joining the account.”

  Solid gold it was, she was sure of it. The weight of it in her hand made her breathless. Scrolling gleamed around the edge. The image of a ship and a dark-haired girl waving a handkerchief from the shore shone brightly at the center, painted with a fine hand. Mary looked up, searching for Paddy. If something like this was put in his hand, surely it would convince him.

  The pirates, growing wilder from the rum, whooped as they dragged bits of treasure up from the hold—a bale of lace, a trunkful of ladies’ underthings. They’d found bottles of wine and were waving them about. One man was running about with a pair of lady’s beribboned stockings rolled up to his elbows, walking them up others’ arms like an obscene pair of legs.

  The Zilveren Vissen was beginning to list portside from damage dealt by the pirate ship’s cannon, and surely wouldn’t last the night. Off the port side of the brig, a jolly boat full of sailors still bound for Curaçao was ready to lower into the shadow cast by the setting sun.

  Paddy was standing beside the boat, waving her over. “Come on, lad!” he shouted.

  She ran over and he turned to board, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “I’m joining the pirates,” she said quickly, “and you should come with me.” Mary swung the pocket watch in front of him as Jack had done to her. “You see this?” He watched it in disapproval or admiration, she couldn’t tell. “How might Katie feel if you brought back a few of these to her?”

  “It’s beautiful,” he said slowly. “Katie’d be sure to love it.”

  Mary waved dismissively at the jolly boat. “If you go into port with that lot, you’ll be back where you started, without any payment for the journey. But if you come with us, your share will surely be enough to make an honest woman out of Katie!”

  Paddy looked around, tight-lipped. She could tell he didn’t like the pirates’ wildness. But his eyes came to rest on the riches strewn across the deck, all the wealth that had been locked away this entire journey suddenly spread out before them. Opulent fabric spilled everywhere, florid and peacocked damasks shimmering in blues and deep wine colors. Raw silks crumpled into earth-toned valleys among heaps of familiar navy and cream linens. The tilt of evening light shaded the men to gray and gold as they clambered up from the hold, tossing compasses and candlesticks onto the rainbow drifts while the sky deepened to indigo in the east.

  He hesitated—Mary could tell he was tempted—but his hands worried a tear in his shirt. “You know better than me about the king’s proclamation!” he whispered. “You leave here with them, and you’re worth a pretty penny if you’re captured. There’s men who’ll track you down, make no mistake.”

  That promise of reward, Mary knew, was what had brought Nat to the islands. It wasn’t just the Navy hunting pirates now—anyone with a ship and a couple of cannons was gathering a crew, and Nat had been eager to join up. “They may try to, but what are the chances?” she argued. “Probably less than those of being killed by a whipping under another captain like Baas. Join up and you’ll likely be home after a few voyages, with a pocketful of gold, a ruby or two, and nobody the wiser.”

  “They know I tried to kill him,” Paddy said in a low voice, his eyes flicking to Jack.

  “And they know I shot the kapitein,” Mary said. “Since I vouch for you, they’ll trust you. I’m sure of it.”

  Paddy groaned and put his head in his hands. “Jaysus, I hope God forgives me. Lord knows the king won’t.”

  “You’re coming!” Mary crowed.

  “I might as well forget Katie if I stay. I’ll never have the means to woo her otherwise.” Paddy sighed. “What convinced you to join up? I thought you was dead set on getting to dry land soon as possible.”

  Mary looked at the girl, who stood for all the world like a captain herself in her caramel boots, ordering her men about. She saw the way every man on the ship was staring at Anne. It wasn’t her body that did it, or her hair or face—it was something else.

  She wanted Nat to stare at her like all those men were staring at Anne. She wanted him to never look away from her again.

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nbsp; “You’re going for that girl, ain’t you,” Paddy said. “I can see it on your face.”

  She’d be daft to admit what she was after. “I’m going for this,” she said instead, dangling the pocket watch in front of him. “And the promise of more like it.”

  Paddy laughed and shook his head. “She’s the captain’s girl, son. You’d be wise to remember that.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WAPPING, LONDON—1707

  MUFFLED CRYING DREW MARY OUT OF HER TENEMENT ROOM. SHE HESITATED on the landing, listening to the sniffles and whimpers of someone clearly trying not to sob. Slowly, she followed the sounds down the cold, dark steps and found the boy from the kip next to hers hunched under the stair. His split lip bled into the dust, tears streaking his dirty cheeks.

  “Nat?” Mary put a hand on his shoulder, but he smacked it away.

  “Bugger off, Mark!” he mumbled, wiping snot from his face as he curled into the wall.

  Mary recalled that Nat’s da had gotten back from the sea just days ago. Nat had shared some sugar mice with her, a gift from his mum before his da drank up the rest of the money. She’d been jealous that Nat’s mum was nice enough to spend extra money on treats instead of gin, but then she’d heard his da come home late the next night. The sounds of his raging, the pleading and crashes of things breaking, had made her think she was better off after all.

  Nat was always so happy down on the docks when they played sailors and pirates, his big grin gapped by missing teeth. Too bad it was so cold outside, or she would have asked him if he wanted to race her to the river. Instead, Mary sat down and began dragging her finger through the dirt, tracing the outline of a grand ship with lots of masts. “This is our ship,” she said. “We’ll sail it far away and find our fortune.”

  His sniffling quieted as he watched her add waves and a shining sun. Then he shifted onto his knees next to her and started tracing, too. “This is the island we’ll sail to,” he said, the tears gone from his voice. “And this is the castle we’ll live in, with locks on all the doors so Da can’t get in.”

  “Me granny lives in a place like that!” Mary thought of another way to cheer him up. “When I’m big Mum says it’s going to be my house. There’s plenty of rooms for you and your mum too.”

  Nat made a dismissive noise. “In the new world folks don’t have to have a rich granny. Anyone can live in a big house and do whatever they want.”

  Imagine being free of pleasing Granny! Mum browbeat Mary any chance she got with threats of transportation or worse if anyone figured out she was a girl. Meanwhile, life in a house like Granny’s felt as far off as Nat’s castle on an island. Mary traced two figures on her ship, both brandishing swords. “This is us, striking terror into the hearts of anyone who tells us what to do!”

  Nat leaned in to survey her work. He nodded, then added a smudge to her picture. “And that’s me parrot. He sits on me shoulder.”

  Mary laughed and added a smudge for herself to match.

  “I can’t wait,” Nat said. The blood on his gums looked dreadful, but his smile was bright. “I can’t wait till the two of us sail far away from here.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CARIBBEAN SEA—1719

  MARY WOKE WITH A START TO THE TAP OF ROPES KNOCKING AGAINST A mast in a gray morning breeze. The pirates’ brigantine, the Ranger, creaked and sloshed in a steady rhythm. Material crinkled underneath her as she stretched. A bale of lace had come undone in the night, its drape forming a flimsy blanket. If it hadn’t been for the sounds of the ship she might have thought she was back at Granny’s house in Westminster, waking up beneath the covers—the smell of clean, fine fabric and its bright white color brought to mind her little bed in the garret.

  Her head bumped against something solid as she curled to her side, and she reached out to find Paddy’s grubby feet were inches from her face. Mary felt a thrill, remembering he’d come. Ever since Paddy had found her in the dark hold of the Vissen, cornered by a particularly foul tar who’d had one too many rums, he’d kept an eye out for her. She’d been grateful for his vigilance after learning that passing as a boy was not always enough to protect her.

  Mary curled away from him, blinking to clear her eyes, and pushed the lace back.

  Across the deck and amid a tumble of damask, the rumpled top of Jack’s head and one bare arm were clearly visible. Mary tried to imagine Kapitein Baas sprawled in the same position, tickled at the thought of him snoring away in the company of his sailors.

  The two captains couldn’t be more different. Baas treated the poor tars who worked for him as if they were barely human. The past three months Mary’s stomach had screamed with hunger, and her limbs had ached with cold worse than the days right after Mark had died. Baas had given his sailors only enough food and rest to keep them alive, and sometimes not even that. She’d watched sailors get tied to the mainmast and lashed for minor infractions at his command. Men had died from those beatings, or the infections that always followed.

  Jack, in contrast, had given her a pocket watch. A gold pocket watch. She touched the chain she’d looped around her neck. She’d never had anything so fine belong to her—and it was just a tiny piece of the cargo that had been distributed among the entire crew.

  Mary lifted herself further, looking for the red of Anne’s dress, but if she was there the fabric hid her. Mary stood, piled the lace on top of Paddy, and looked around. Damp, cool air skimmed across her skin; the sky was a delicate pre-dawn slate. Nothing but rocking water in all directions—but Nassau was out there. Nassau was so close.

  She wondered how close, exactly. The cabin door was slightly ajar. Captains kept maps in their cabins, and a captain like Jack wouldn’t keelhaul her for looking at one. Mary hopped lightly to her feet and picked her way around the bales to the cabin door. It was dark and still within. With one last glance over her shoulder to make sure Jack hadn’t moved, she slipped inside.

  “You’re up early, Mark.”

  Mary stopped dead when she saw Anne in the shadows, Her hair was even bigger than the night before, curling wildly around her face. “Come here,” Anne whispered loudly. She held her hand out, something round and soft in it. “You’ve got to try this.”

  Looking at a map was one thing—lingering in a room with the captain’s girl while he slept was another. But Anne didn’t seem concerned. With one last nervous glance behind her, Mary crept inside.

  “I woke up starving.” Anne’s cheek bore the marks of sleep still fading across it. “I thought there was one of them left, and I wanted to get to it before Jack did.” Taught dair, not thought there. She spoke like the poor girls back in Wapping, just off the boat from Ireland, but her accent was muddled and hard to catch. She held a curious, pale-pink fruit, her face glowing with delight. It glistened strangely, a diamond-shaped network of grooves on its surface.

  Anne pulled a knife out of her boot and sliced clean through the fruit, revealing a cream-colored flesh studded with black seeds. Placing one half in her mouth, she scraped a bit of pulp from the skin and handed over the other piece. The fruit was knobby against Mary’s palm, giving off an intoxicating scent.

  “Mmm.” Anne held the fruit in her mouth for a moment, spat a seed on the floor, and swallowed. “Custard apple. I’ll bet you’ve never had anything like it before. I know I never had, not till Jack gave me one.” Mary imitated her, running her teeth against the skin to pull the flesh off. It really tasted like custard, eggy and sweet. Mary closed her eyes. This was what she’d imagined the New World would be like, all those times she and Nat had told their stories back in Wapping. Fruit like this, handed to her like it was nothing. Like there was more than enough for everyone.

  Anne took another bite. “Since you’re here, tell me—how’d a British chap like you end up on a boat full of Dutchmen, and do you have a sweetheart what was the cause of it?”

  Mary started at her bluntness. “A sweetheart, miss?” She turned away from Anne, looking around the cabin. “I suppose so.” T
he cabin was lit by a few smoking candles perched on the chandelier. “Ah, I have reason to believe me sweetheart is in Nassau. I came in here to look at a map, actually. To see if I was getting close.”

  Anne clapped her hands. “I knew it! There’s always a good story, as long as you ask.”

  Mary made a noncommittal noise and walked over to the great, dark table in the center of the room that was covered in parchments and clutter.

  “Go on, then,” Anne urged, following her. “Tell me about her. I’ve tried to get good stories out of the others, but they’re all disgusting. I can tell you’re different. A romantic.”

  Mary couldn’t begin to think of how to tell her story without giving herself away. She leaned over the table and flipped up a corner of parchment, revealing something that looked promising. “Would you be able to point out where we are on a map?”

  Anne winked, circling the table. “Playing hard to crack, are you? Never mind, I’ll get the tale out of you soon enough.”

  Mary uncovered the parchment and, sure enough, it was a map of the islands. “I’d rather hear how someone like you ended up on this ship,” she said. “That seems more like a tale worth telling.”

  Anne brushed aside crusts and a compass and helped Mary spread out the map. “Here, I’ll show you.” Anne bent over the parchment with great interest, pushing curls off her forehead.

  Mary couldn’t see the map very well, so she inched closer. They were almost touching. Her heart was beating hard and she kept glancing at the door, but no one appeared.

  The center of the map represented water, decorated by swirling mermaids and taloned sea monsters. The outer edges were ringed with shapes, what must have been islands and landforms. Most of them were colored red, with bunches of tiny words crammed into every corner. “It’s gorgeous,” Mary murmured. And mostly illegible—she couldn’t begin to make sense of it.

  “Let’s see, I got off the boat from Ireland in Charleston.” Anne’s hand settled on the top righthand corner of the map. “With me da. Then I landed, let’s see—here.” Her finger landed on an island not far from the same corner. “With James. And now I’m here—” her finger slid to around the middle-left of the map, over open water. “With Jack.”