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2016 Weather the Storm: Female Pirates, Sexual Diversity and the Reconstruction of Women's History

MacAlpine, Anna

MacAlpine, A. (2016). Weather the Storm: Female Pirates, Sexual Diversity and the Reconstruction of Women's History (Unpublished master's thesis). University of Calgary, Calgary, AB. doi:10.11575/PRISM/28680 http://hdl.handle.net/11023/3087 master thesis

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UNIVERSITY OF CALGARY

Weather the Storm:

Female Pirates, Sexual Diversity and the Reconstruction of Women’s History

by

Anna MacAlpine

A THESIS

SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES

IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE

DEGREE OF MASTER OF FINE ARTS

GRADUATE PROGRAM IN DRAMA

CALGARY, ALBERTA

JUNE, 2016

© Anna MacAlpine 2016

ii

ABSTRACT

The following artist’s statement and accompanying manuscript discusses the historical research and creative process of writing the play Weather the Storm. The artist statement examines the historical context of play’s inspiration, setting and characters, and discusses the process of adapting history within a feminist/queer framework. The play explores the lives of and , the only documented female pirates to operate in the during the Golden Age of .

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the following people for their wisdom, guidance and support: my supervisor Clem Martini; my committee members April Viczko and Laura Hynes, and neutral chair Joelle Welling; my fellow MFA Playwriting candidate, James Wade; the University of Calgary students who participated in the workshop process, Myah Van Horn, Kelcey Leavitt and Ben Jones; my director, Courtney Charnock, and cast, Natasha Strickey, Vanessa Jetté, Connor Williams, Ryan Gray, Ethan Ross, Andy Weir, Christopher Hunt and Nicole Logan; my family, Gerry MacAlpine, Shirley Osterman, Stephanie MacAlpine and Rebecca Piccoli; and, finally, my partner, Josiah George. From the bottom of my heart – thank you.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT………………………………………………………………………………………… ii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS……………………………………………………………………..… iii

TABLE OF CONTENTS………………………………………………………………………… iv

INTRODUCTION………………………………………………………………………………...… 1

CHAPTER ONE: The Not-So-Very-Golden Golden Age………………………………………... 4 1.1. A Pirate’s Origins……………………………………………………………………………….. 4 1.2. Life Beneath the Black Flag………………………………………………………………….… 8 1.3. Violence, Torture and Plundering……………………………………………………………… 13 1.4. Capture, Trial and Execution…………………………………………………………………... 15

CHAPTER TWO: Women of the High Seas…………………………………………………….. 19 2.1. From Shore to Sea to Prison…………………………………………………………………… 19 2.2. Crossdressing Ladies…………………………………………………………………………... 23 2.3. The Enigma of Anne Bonny and Mary Read…………………………………………………... 26

CHAPTER THREE: An Old-Fashioned (Queer) Love Story………………………………….. 29 3.1. 18th Century Sapphism, the Female Pirate and Historical Fiction……………………………... 30 3.2. Bisexual and Lesbian Representation………………………………………………………….. 34

CHAPTER FOUR: Navigating Adaptation…………………………………...………………… 40 4.1. Guiding Principles……………………………………………………………………………... 40 4.2. The History in the Fiction……………………………………………………………………… 41 4.3. Play Development……………………………………………………………………………… 47

CONCLUSION……………………………………………………………………………………. 51

WORKS CITED…………………………………………………………………………………… 55

APPENDIX A: Weather the Storm……………………………………………………………... 59

1

INTRODUCTION

Anne Bonny and Mary Read occupy a unique place in history: they are the only documented female pirates to have operated in the Caribbean during the . Following their well- publicized trial, capitalized on the public’s interest by including their biographies in his 1724 book, A General History of the Pyrates. To further showcase their unusual situation, the publisher included both a subtitle – “With the remarkable Actions and Adventures of the two Female Pyrates, Mary Read and Anne Bonny” (1) – and an illustrated fold-out of the women. The only other pirates to be given illustrations were and (Cordingly, Women Sailors and Sailors’ Women, 87). The book became an immediate bestseller and by 1726 four more editions were published. It comes as no surprise that Anne Bonny and Mary Read’s biographies in A General History have attracted many authors over the years. Their adventures have resurfaced in numerous plays, novels, films, TV shows and even video games. Their depictions have changed over time, reflecting shifting attitudes about women, gender roles and sexuality. As women and pirates, Bonny and Read presented several opportunities to delve into topics and themes that I found interesting, poignant and urgent. For clarification’s sake, in this document I refer to the historical women by their surnames and their fictional counterparts by “Anne” and “Mary”. The first is the history of piracy. Our cultural image of pirates and piracy is heavily shaped by fictional works like Island and Peter Pan, from which some of the greatest pirate tropes evolved. In writing Weather the Storm, my goal was to do away with pirate tropes and contextualize the play through history. To date, A General History remains the primary source for information about 18th century piracy. However, the book has a negotiable relationship with history, particularly with personal histories that cannot be verified by transcripts of trial records or reports in newspapers (Wheelwright, “Tarts”, 181). I thus could not rely solely on the information in A General History and looked to other resources to aid in building the historical background. By writing historical drama, I hoped to introduce audience members to an area of history with which they were unfamiliar. The second is women’s history. As Deirdre Beddoe puts it, the history of our textbooks is “a male view of history – all about men and men’s activities in the public world of war, diplomacy and statecraft” that has been “palmed off on us as universal history, the history of all humanity” (1). Even though women sailors were rare, they were present. By focusing on women in the context of a 2 historical period where women’s roles were overlooked or deemed unimportant, I aimed to question the belief by positioning women as active players in their environment. The third was the chance to re-construct Bonny and Read’s relationship as a romance rather than a friendship. Most fictional versions (including A General History, depending on how you wish to view the historicity of Bonny and Read’s biographies) focus on their romantic entanglements with men: in both James Birdie’s Mary Read (1933) and Steve Gooch’s The Women Pirates Ann Bonney and Mary Read (1978), the women’s friendship comes at a distant second to their relationships with their male love interests. In addition, there is a desperate need for more stories, regardless of medium, to feature LGBTQ characters of all kinds in leading roles. Many existing queer works feature gay and lesbian characters, but there is a significant lack of bisexuals and other sexual minorities. There are also long-standing beliefs about sexual orientations like bisexuality, which is sometimes thought to be a “phase” or “not a real orientation”. The sexual orientations of the real Bonny and Read can never be known, but the context of their friendship was an opportunity to write a genuine portrayal of bisexual and lesbian identities. Representation was not the only goal; I hoped that audience members unfamiliar with sexual diversity could learn that bisexuality is a real orientation and the experiences of bisexual and lesbian women are not invalid. Lastly, the context of this play’s source was an opportunity to “write back” at the way women have been portrayed in fiction. Many of my choices came from an attempt to push back against tropes that sweep female characters into roles focusing on motherhood or marriage, or place them in situations where they are abused, raped, punished and killed simply because that is the “realistic” experience of women. While things like motherhood and violence play a role in Anne and Mary’s lives, my goal was to execute them in a manner so that they did not become the central focus or the defining aspect of their characters. Weather the Storm does not merely intend to construct history on stage, but to RE-construct it in a way that speaks to a modern audience. I preface the text with a quotation from A General History: “As to the Lives of our two Female Pyrates, we must confess they may appear a little Extravagant, yet they are never the less true for seeming so” (6). I take a similar approach: however extraordinary the events and characters may appear, they are true to the world created in the text. Through the use of history, gender studies and queer theory, I hoped to create a plausible setting with plausible characters who either speak to the social concerns of a modern audience or introduces them to new ideas and experiences. The characters’ challenging environment and the trials they face are 3 encapsulated in the title: in addition to sounding nautical, “weather the storm” is an idiom for dealing with a very difficult problem and continuing to press forward despite serious challenges (dictionary.cambridge.org). Ultimately, my hope is that the play opens up greater discussions about the experiences of queer women, the challenges they face, and how women factor into portrayals of history that are traditionally male-dominated.

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CHAPTER ONE The Not-So-Very-Golden Golden Age

When asked to envision a pirate, you may conjure up images of peg legs, parrots and maps where X marks the spot. These classic images are a fictional construction, born in novels and popularized by swashbuckling Hollywood films. Popular culture often paints pirates in a romantic light, men seeking fortune and freedom away from corrupt government officials, accumulating an overflowing wealth of gold and . While there may be inklings of truth in this image, the maritime world of the early 18th century was shaped by excessive and horrific violence from British and pirate vessels alike. Most sailors had their lives cut short by the dangerous conditions that came with manning a ship. As I considered what kind of world I wanted to present with Weather the Storm, I was conscious of the place pirates hold in fiction. I chose to reject the popular image. I did not want my play to be written in the same legacy created by pirate films and novels; I was searching for something different and unfamiliar. I wanted to create an environment for my characters that reflected the conditions seafaring men and women would have encountered during the Golden Age of Piracy. Though the play is a work of fiction and, therefore, not entirely accurate, it is informed by history.

1.1. A Pirate’s Origins The Golden Age of Piracy spans from the 1650s to the 1730s, but the pinnacle was the brief period between 1715 and 1725 (Rediker, Villains of All Nations, 8). During these years, pirates plundered trade routes, attacking merchant and navy vessels and raiding seaside villages. It is believed that pirates did more damage to British trade than the combined naval efforts of France and Spain during the War of Spanish Succession (1701-1714) (33). Some 18th century sailors were able to commit acts of piracy without punishment. These were : the captain and crew of an armed vessel who were licensed to attack and plunder the ships of enemy nations. A would be issued a , which was recognized internationally and protected the privateer from being prosecuted for piracy. Employing privateers as a “merchant navy” was a fast and inexpensive way for maritime nations to attack enemy shipping (Cordingly, Under, xvii). Privateers committed the same atrocities as pirates – the only difference was that they were sanctioned to do so. In 1708, seven years into the War of Spanish Succession, the 5

English government passed the Prize Act, granting privateers the full value of their captured prizes (Leeson 12). However, the privateers’ luck would come to an end as the government had little use for them during times of peace. Unemployment among sailors skyrocketed and many mariners turned pirate in pursuit of a way to earn a living (12). In the play, Mary is a privateer before she joins Rackham’s crew. Positioning her as such gives reason for her level of skill: as a privateer, she would be familiar with naval combat as well as the mechanics of a sailing vessel. It also provides Rackham with fuel for convincing her to join his crew by claiming the acts of violence he commits are no different than hers. Finally, Mary’s letter of marque acts as a symbolic representation of her ties to British law and order – in ripping the letter at the end of the scene, she breaks her bonds to her country (Act 1, Scene 2). Privateers were not the only sailors who turned to piracy. While at sea, the merchant captain had absolute authority over his crew, which was guaranteed by law and upheld in admiralty courts (Rediker, Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, 208). He could enforce discipline as he pleased. While the admiralty courts occasionally punished a ruthless captain, violent punishments largely went unchecked (213). In 1724, Captain Richard Haskins attacked in his sleep, hit him twelve times with a marlinspike and then forced him to climb 120 feet up the foregallant sail to loosen it. All the while, Phillips was convulsing (216). In 1734, an ill Richard Baker was ordered to take two turns at the helm, then was whipped and tied to the mizzenmast for an hour and a half. He did not survive (Cordingly, Under, 133). In 1746, John Cressey was forced to place his middle finger into a hole in a block of wood, whereupon his captain, Thomas Brown, drove wedges into the block, crushing his finger. Cressey’s arm to swelled up, forcing him to carry around the 50-pound block of wood, to which Brown allegedly gave the occasional kick (Rediker, Between, 219). It is unknown how many men were murdered while sailing in the merchant service. It was these violent conditions that were partially responsible for sailors turning to piracy. In 1722, John Philps accused his former officers of starving their men. At his trial, he claimed: “It was such dogs as these that put men to pyrating” (qtd. in Cordingly, Under, 137). Similarly, in 1724, John Archer said prior to his execution: “I could wish that Masters of vessels would not use their men with such severity, as many of them do, which exposes us to great temptations” (qtd. in Cordingly, Under, 137). However, violent discipline was not the only cruelty encountered by merchant sailors. They suffered cramped, claustrophobic quarters; rotten food and meager portions; disease, disabling accidents and shipwrecks. They were paid very little and fraud was common. The 6 law could rarely help, as its main purpose was to ensure a steady supply of cheap maritime labour (Rediker, Villains of All Nations, 43). Rackham, again, uses his knowledge of other sailing vessels to convince Mary to abandon her principles and join him. Citing the violent conditions experienced by those in the merchant service, Rackham promises her an easier life, with better pay (Act 1, Scene 2). Life in the Royal Navy could be just as brutal as that in the merchant service. Wages were lower than aboard merchant vessels, particularly during wartime. The quantity and quality of food was frequently undermined by corrupt officers and disease ran rampant, often in epidemic proportions. Violent discipline was necessary in order to maintain order (Rediker 43). By 1758 deserters could be sentenced to two hundred lashes, a mutineer to three hundred and a thief to five hundred. Sodomy was punishable by death (Cordingly, Under, 134). Furthermore, due to the high demand of maritime labour, impressment was so common that sailors “entered the navy like men ‘dragged to execution’” (Rediker, Between, 33). Almost half of the thousands of men pressed into service during the 17th and 18th centuries died at sea. Those who survived were lucky to be paid. It is to this that Corner refers when he says “In the navy, I was little better than a slave” (Act 2, Scene 3). This line has been problematic for me as slavery was prevalent in this period (the line’s original form was “In the navy, I was a slave”). It is the one subject that is not touched upon in the script and that is, perhaps, a failing. There is some contention among historians about the position of black sailors among pirate crews. While there are documents that suggest former black slaves were welcome aboard pirate crews, there are also accounts of pirates treating black slaves as cargo. For example, Robert Dangerfield, while held captive, witnessed a pirate ship plunder a French ship on the west coast of Africa and later sell sixteen captured slaves to the English governor at Gambo (16). Still, it is generally assumed that because most pirates ignored the usual customs of the period, former slaves were accepted aboard pirate crews. Many sailors became pirates by volunteering when their vessels were taken. Many volunteers enthusiastically switched sides; others attempted to pretend they were forced to join crew in order to have an alibi in case they were ever captured. In general, pirate crews disregarded conscripting their victims. Occasionally, if a sailor was a craftsman whose skills were desired by the pirate company he would be detained (Rediker, Villains, 48). However, by the early 1720s, the number of sailors willing to join pirates was dwindling; to compensate, pirates increasingly coerced crew members of captured vessels into joining (49). 7

In the play, Mary believes that Rackham is going to conscript her, but he refutes that belief by telling a story of how a ship crewed by conscripted men mutinied against their pirate captain and killed him. While this anecdote is fictional, there are accounts of conscripted crews leading against pirate captains and killing them, so it is a plausible assumption that captains feared retribution if they coerced too many sailors (49). Furthermore, Mary’s skill as a sailing master makes her valuable – she would have been detained regardless of whether the attacking pirate ship was searching for a sailing master or not. Of the some 1500 to 2000 pirates operating in the Caribbean (Cordingly, Under, 202), the majority were English-speaking. They hailed either directly from , Ireland, Scotland or Wales, or from the colonies in the New World (15). Like Anne Bonny and Mary Read, Rackham, Corner, Featherstone and Harwood were real pirates. Their names are drawn from a historical document, “The Tryals of Captain John Rackam” which, as the company’s trial transcription, is the main source of information alongside A General History. Similarly, Nicholas Lawes was also a real person – as governor of at the time, he presided over pirate trials (62). The real John Rackham’s crew was much larger than how I depicted it in the play, but I chose to reduce the crew to three in order to ensure each secondary character had enough time to be developed and have a purpose in the action. Richard Corner and George Featherstone were chosen because they held powerful positions on Rackham’s crew (quartermaster and sailing master, respectively). Noah Harwood was chosen because his name did not sound similar to the others (for example, there were three more “Johns” on the real crew) (“Tryals” 15). The trial records indicate that Bonny, Read, Rackham, Corner, Featherstone, and Harwood were all “late of Providence” (15; 25), but does not state their nationalities. A General History identifies Read as English (162) and Bonny as Irish (165), which are the nationalities I used in the play. No identifications are given for the crew, though Johnson writes that, when hailed by an approaching sloop, they claimed “They were English Men” (155). As many other pirates heralded from France, Spain, Portugal, Holland and their colonies, it is likely that pirate crews were multi-lingual in some capacity (Cordingly, Under, 15). Mid-way through development, I attempted to reflect a multi-lingual aspect in the company (Rackham and Mary spoke Spanish, Corner spoke French, and Anne spoke Irish Gaelic), but it became too challenging a direction to take (Vanessa Jetté, who played Mary, has my thanks for translating several lines into Spanish when I was considering taking this route). There sole remnant of this 8 direction lies in Corner’s attempt at Spanish (Act 2, Scene 10), which I chose to write as broken Spanish both for comedic effect and to emphasize his drunkenness. Many pirates were young, working class men with no familial ties. Of the 169 active pirates whose ages are known, the average age is 27. Three in five pirates were in their twenties (Rediker, Villains, 49). Pirates were almost solely from the lowest social classes. As with most sailors, they were poor, uneducated, had “worked in the most proletarian of occupations” and were considered to be “men of no property” (50). Most were orphaned boys. The ages of the real Rackham and his crew are unknown. In the play, I’ve positioned them all as being under thirty, working class, and from broken families (though Harwood is the only one outright identified as an orphan). I reasoned that their youth and class both added to the sense of rebellion against established law and order, as well as adding to the tragedy in their demise (particularly in Harwood’s case, as he is depicted as a teenager). Furthermore, their age is in sharp contrast to Lawes, who, as governor, is both the voice of the law and a man who lived to be over seventy thanks to his status and wealth (Cundall 32). Finally, although evidence is difficult to trace, pirates appear to have had few to no familial ties and children were almost never mentioned in records of trial (49-50). Aside from mentions of Blackbeard having a wife, it is unlikely most pirates married (Cordingly, Under, 71). A General History portrays Bonny as Rackham’s mistress, but such a relationship is not mentioned in any of the trial documents. However, considering the relationship between working class women and pirates (see Chapter Two), it is a fair assumption. In the play, marriage is a point of contention between Anne and Rackham. Though they have a child together (whom they abandoned on Cuba), there is very little that cements their relationship. Rackham believes Anne is frightened of her responsibilities to their child; Anne believes he is frightened of committing to her. In response, he asks her to marry him. The moment is intentionally absurd, as marriage is something neither of them desire. It has little to no place in their environment and Anne cannot see herself being linked to Rackham in that manner (Act 1, Scene 8).

1.2. Life Beneath the Black Flag Life at sea was incredibly dangerous. Between accidents with equipment, disease from poor sanitation and nutrition, severe discipline, long hours of extreme labour and inclement weather, the environment often proved fatal. As Ralph Davis puts it, “The chances of a seaman ending his life in… a catastrophe were high, and many a man fell from the rigging, was swept overboard, or was 9 fatally struck by falling gear” (qtd. in Rediker, Between, 93). In such an extreme milieu, order was necessary to keep as many sailors healthy and in good condition as possible. Outwardly, the positions aboard pirate vessels looked similar to those on a merchant or navy ship (captain, sailing master, boatswain, gunner, etc.), but there was one fundamental difference: pirate crews were democratic and sailors were elected into positions of power. Unlike in the merchant service or navy, the captain’s power was limited. According to Rediker, pirate crews sought captains who embodied “leadership by example, not leadership by ascribed status and hierarchy” (Villains 65). He was granted authority “in Chase, or in Battle” (AGH 235), but he was governed by the majority in everything else. In the play (as in history), Rackham is captain. He holds the most power in Act 1, but as things begin to go wrong (Corner losing his hand, the impatience that is felt while waiting for Thomas Dillon’s ship to appear), the crew, led by Featherstone, become discontented with Rackham’s leadership. Though the threat of electing a new captain looms, it is never enacted (I did not want to make Rackham appear ineffectual). To counterbalance the captain’s authority, a quartermaster was elected. His position was valuable as he was in charge of overseeing captured plunder and distributing it to the crew (66). He also oversaw the boarding party – selecting crew members and leading them into battle. As the boarding party received special privileges, crew members would sometimes fight with each other for the right to go aboard and the quartermaster would regulate access “in the fairest way possible” (67). Johnson describes the quartermaster as “a sort of civil Magistrate” (234). The play begins with Corner as quartermaster (as he was in real life). After he loses his hand and cannot fulfill his duties anymore, his position is coveted by Anne and Featherstone. While a vote would have been held to elect a new quartermaster, Anne and Featherstone duel for it—a scenario that is unlikely, but holds more dramatic tension than a vote. While he did not have the authority of the captain or quartermaster, the sailing master held a vital role: he determined the ship’s location and charted routes to the next destination. It was a specialized job wherein a lack of experience could lead to disaster. The sailing master would have to measure the altitude of the noonday sun with a backstaff, do some calculations to figure out the latitude (Cordingly, Under, 82), and keep a record of his dead-reckoning (87). While charts at the time depicted the general shape and positions of coastlines and islands, they were often inaccurate (83). Sailing masters would sometimes make their own charts for navigational purposes and these were highly valued (87). In the play, Mary is the sailing master (while, in actuality, Featherstone 10 occupied this position). I made Mary a sailing master because the position’s skills made her invaluable to the crew, upping the stakes at the end of Act 1 when they threaten to maroon her and, thus, giving her a bargaining chip. The entire crew was governed by a code of conduct created collectively at the onset of a new voyage. Each ship would draw up its own terms, to which every crew member would swear (Rediker, Villains, 65). Swearing was typically done on a Bible, but if there was no Bible onboard, an axe would be used, a scenario dramatized in the play (AGH 397). The articles oversaw the distribution of resources, assigned authority, and enforced discipline (Rediker 65). No articles for John Rackham’s crew survive, but A General History captures the codes of several pirate captains, from whom I pillaged and adjusted when necessary (for example, duels were not taken off the ship because I could not afford the time to transition away from the ship deck). Bartholomew Roberts had the most extensive set of articles. From these I was inspired by “Every Man has a Vote in Affairs of Moment”; “No striking one another on Board, but every Man’s Quarrel to be ended on Shore, at Sword and Pistol”; and “The Captain and Quarter-Master to receive two Shares of a Prize; the Master, Boatswain and Gunner, one Share and a half, and other Officers, one and a Quarter” (AGH 232). I found these articles useful as they established the democratic nature of pirate crews, outlined the wage breakdown on the ship, and introduced the idea of settling issues through a duel. I also borrowed from Captain John Phillips. He had three articles of interest to me: “If any Man shall offer to run away, or keep any Secret from the Company, he shall be maroon’d”; “That Man that shall strike another whilst these Articles are in force, shall receive Moses’ Law (that is, 40 Stripes, lacking one) on the bare back”; and “If at any time you meet with a prudent Woman, that Man that offers to meddle with her, without her Consent, shall suffer present Death” (398). These articles were useful because they introduced the idea of crew members being punished for keeping secrets, the punishment of Moses’ Law, and the idea that a pirate crew had a punishment in place for rape. Rape and sexual assault were commonplace, and it is interesting – and perhaps progressive – that Phillips’ articles provide a counter to it. Of this article and those like it, Captain William Snelgrave wrote “It is a rule amongst the Pirates […] [that] if they should Take a Prize at Sea, that has any Women on board, no one dares, on pain of death, to force them against their Inclinations.” (qtd. in Rediker, Villains, 111). 11

While the articles regulated discipline aboard pirate ships, they still left a wide range of behaviour unchecked. Discipline was dependent on the entire crew’s collective sense of transgression (75), which is perhaps best demonstrated in the play by Mary’s punishment, which the entire crew (except for Anne) believes she deserves. Pirates were generally more tolerant of behaviour that would otherwise earn punishment in the merchant service or navy. Pirates ships were significantly more crowded than merchant or navy vessels and, consequently, pirates attempted to “promote harmony” below decks in order to manage the crew’s health and well-being (75). For example, pirate crews established a common fund that was devoted to sailors who were injured, either at work or in battle. Injuries were frequent and devastating, thanks to pistols and rifles. Musket balls were slow and were unable to keep their shape after being fired. They spread flat on impact, shredding internal organs if they hit the target in the torso and causing a compound fracture if they struck bone (Gabriel and Metz 54). With the inability to care for a shattered limb, physicians resorted to amputation. On ships that lacked a physician, amputations were performed by the carpenter. Patients were given rum, liquor or opium to consume and a piece of leather to bite during the amputation (119). Though ligatures (which greatly reduced bleeding and shock) had existed since 1545 (59), surgical cleanliness was horrendous and antiseptic was not understood until 1750 (100). Wounds became severely infected. Care for the remaining limb relied on cauterization to seal off the blood vessels, followed by wrapping the limb in dry bandages moistened with water (103-105). Gunshot wounds and their treatment are dramatized in Act 2 after Corner is injured during an attack on a British warship. The main purpose of this plot point is to create a situation that would allow Anne to attempt to grab more power and respect within the crew. Its secondary purpose is to showcase the violent nature of the company’s environment. While writing the scene, I was concerned that I was either sensationalizing the violence or making it contrived. In a conversation I had with Natasha Strickey (who played Anne), she reflected on the level of violence in the play and argued that moments like this were important: “People do get hurt and there are consequences to the violence – it’s not like everything turned out for the best” (personal interview). After his injury, Corner rejects the option of leaving with compensation, as was true for injured pirates (Rediker, Villains, 73). Another way pirate companies promoted harmony between crew members was in their method of dealing with disputes. Quarrels between sailors were resolved through a duel that took 12 place off the ship, and therefore “off” the sea. The duellers would begin by firing their pistols; if they missed on their first shots, they would fight with swords. The victor was the first to draw blood (Rediker, Villains, 75), an element that is depicted in both duels in the play. If a pirate broke an important rule or if he was repeatedly troublesome, he would be marooned. In his notes on Roberts’ articles, Johnson writes that was “a Barbarous Custom of putting the Offender on Shore, on some desolate or uninhabited Cape or Island, with a Gun, a few Shot, a Bottle of Water, and a Bottle of Powder, to subsist with, or starve” (164). Marooning often guaranteed a slow, painful death from either starvation or exposure to the elements. When Mary is threatened by marooning, she negotiates the comparatively “better” punishment of Moses’ Law. The final form of punishment aboard pirate ships was execution, reserved for extreme cases. Theft and desertion were two of the most common reasons, though it was also enacted for bringing women or young boys board, or if a pirate had put the entire company in danger (Rediker, Villains, 76). Overall, life aboard pirate vessels was less restrictive than that of their merchant service or navy. Pirates became known for their voracious lifestyle and occasions of celebration – “the eating, drinking, fiddling, dancing and merriment” which were considered to be “infinite Disorders” by outsiders (71). Gambling was immensely popular for sailors of all kinds and they spent much of their free time playing cards or dice. The game Anne and Mary play is a dice game called “Hazard”, which dates from the 13th century. It originally gained popularity in medieval Europe where it was played for high stakes in English gambling rooms (“Hazard – Dice Game”). Regardless of the game, sailors would sometimes gamble away their clothes or personal possessions, which created a host of issues in the crew. Some companies, such as Roberts’, banned gambling altogether (Cordingly, Under, 94). An important aspect of life at sea was music. Singing and fiddling were a constant presence, and some crews may have had small bands or even orchestras (95). As most pirates heralded from England, Scotland or Ireland, it is likely that their music reflected the folk traditions of those countries. Thanks to their roots in oral tradition, folk music is prone to variations in the lyrics and melodies. In the 17th century, folk music was first printed in broadsides. However, broadsheet ballads lacked notation, the seller would have to sing the lyrics to his customers, thus furthering the variation (Ritchie and Orr 15). Most folk music, particularly ballads, describe a simple, straightforward story. “The Golden Vanity” (sung by Mary and the crew in Act II, Scene 7), which was first published as a broadsheet 13 by Samuel Pepys in 1682, depicts the capture of a Spanish treasure ship (Brown, “Ballad”, 13). It is thought to be based on the adventures of Sir Walter Raleigh, a captain who fought the Spanish armada during the reign of Elizabeth I (14). “Siúil a Rún” (sung by Anne in Act 3, Scene 10) is an Irish lament about a woman abandoned by a lover who left for war; by the end of the song, she swears to follow him. Its Gaelic title translates to “Walk my Love” and it is among the most popular unaccompanied songs from across Ireland. If it did exist during the 1700s, it would have been sung in Gaelic as the push to move traditional Irish music from Gaelic to English did not occur until the 19th century (Cooper 133). As I chose to move away from multilingual moments, I did not include the Gaelic version. “The Parting Glass” (sung by the company at the end of the play) is of a slightly different origin. As one of the most popular farewell songs in Ireland and Scotland, it was originally printed as a broadsheet in the 18th century. It most likely gained popularity as it was passed around amongst the inns and taverns of seaports and would have been sung the night before a voyage was undertaken (Ritchie and Orr 136-137). Its origins, alongside its lyrics, felt appropriate for the finale. Music was not simply employed for entertainment; the singing of sea shanties were crucial for the work life aboard a ship. Iolo A. Williams identifies the sea shanty as “an occupational song: one, that is, intended to assist with the performance of a certain task” (128). An example is “Randy Dandy O”, which was cut from the reading, but is intended to be sung by the company while they work (Act 1, Scene 6). Despite pirates’ affinity for entertainment and pleasure, such merriment was far from idyllic. Drunkenness led to brawls between sailors that quickly encompassed the entire crew, vessels ran aground due to inebriated sailors and drunken pirates fought poorly in battle (73). John Rackham’s crew was said to have been celebrating the night they were captured. Drunkenness is said to be the reason for the entire company—except for Bonny and Read—calling for quarter without a fight (Woodard 319). This element is incorporated into the company’s capture in Act 2, Scene 10.

1.3. Violence, Torture and Plundering Most pirate captains restricted themselves to attacking a single ship and did not typically take large merchant vessels (Cordingly, Under, 108). They were confidant, seldom going after ships they knew they could not take, and relied upon their terrifying reputations. The most successful pirate captains, like Bartholomew Roberts and Blackbeard, sailed with two or more ships under their command. At 14 the height of his career, Roberts sailed with a 42-gun warship, a 30-gun brigantine and a 16-gun ship. He had over 508 men under his command. Before his demise, Blackbeard commanded a 40- gun warship and had 415 men under his command. John Rackham, by comparison, was a small-time pirate in command of a 12-ton, 6-gun sloop crewed by fourteen sailors (108-109). The advantage of a large ship was that it provided a platform for more guns, was more durable, and, in general, faster. However, a small sloop had a shallower draft, which made it easier to hide her in sandbanks and estuaries, sailing in places where warships could not find her (160). Cordingly compares being attacked by pirates to being overwhelmed by a naval warship as most merchant ships did not have combat experience and were inferior in numbers and firepower (119). Pirates would usually make their hostile intentions known from the start. If they did want to take their victims by surprise, they would fly the flag of a friendly nation (106). Otherwise, they would fly some version of the black flag. Though a skull and crossbones is the most notorious, a variety of symbols were used, including “bleeding hearts, blazing balls, hourglasses, spears, , and whole skeletons” (116). Rackham’s banner was a skull (or “death’s-head”) above crossed cutlasses. In the play, it is raised above the company in Act 2 and remains there until their capture at the end of the act. While it appears Rackham treated his victims well (there is no record of him using murder or torture), not all victims were that fortunate (57). Upon approaching a ship, pirates would hurl lethal missiles and granado shells (early hand grenades) at their target. The resulting explosion caused death and injury and sailors would throw themselves overboard to escape the carnage (120). If the ship put up resistance, pirates would fire a broadside – a series of shots from ten guns on one side of the ship which consisted of two round cannonballs and a partridge shot. The broadside would shatter the hull, rigging and sails, successfully disabling the ship (120). The pirates would then board, deal with any remaining resistance, and proceed to plunder the ship. They went after provisions with such ferocity that they would usually spoil them (Rediker, Villains, 71-72). Other loot consisted of the ship’s gear and whatever cargo she carried (Cordingly, Under, 107). While gold, silver and jewels held an interest, pirates attacked ships to obtain what they needed to keep sailing: sails, pump-bolts, log-lines, needles, twine and many other pieces of equipment (108). If the ship surrendered without putting up any resistance, no further violence would be done to them. However, if a merchant captain refused to co-operate, he would be met with violence. Torture was used to exact information from unwilling crews. Pirates would sometimes follow-up 15 their attack by burning the ship, as did to the Diamond in 1718 (129). Other times, they would set the ship adrift or take her as a consort vessel (160). In the play, burning is the fate given to Mary’s privateer’s sloop. With the technical demands of accurately representing a pirate attack being unattainable in the theatre, I chose to depict the attacks (any moment of action where the company would be fighting others) through a stylistic depiction of their inner thoughts and struggles during those moments of action. My intention is for the sound design to reflect the “sound” of naval battles, as demonstrated by the stage directions. Since the time of 17th century , pirates considered themselves to be “” and a “Brotherhood” (Rediker, Villains, 95). Most pirate captains knew each other (Between, 268). Many of them sailed out of Nassau before the city was reclaimed in 1718, and many of them served as quartermasters to older pirate captains before taking their own command. As such, pirates would sometimes attack out of revenge. Attacks on settlements and naval vessels did not come out of a desire to accumulate wealth; they were targeted because they had executed pirates in the past (Cordingly, Under, 129). For example, In 1717, the surviving crew of the shipwrecked Whydah (the flagship of Sam Bellamy, who died in the wreck) was jailed in Boston. Earlier, the city’s Admiralty Court had hanged several pirates serving aboard the Mary Anne, another of Bellamy’s ships. Upon hearing this, Blackbeard captured a merchant ship from Boston, burning her and her crew, because “Boston had hanged some of the Pirates” (Rediker, Villains, 95). In the play, Rackham uses revenge as a rallying point for the company when stealing the William and using the sloop to terrorize .

1.4. Capture, Trial and Execution In order to dissuade their subjects from turning pirate, pirates were vilified by the British authorities. Whatever atrocities they committed (which were no worse than those committed by the merchant service or navy) were exaggerated in contemporary writings and described in graphic detail. Pirates were demonized, portrayed as subhuman savages at the beck and call of their lusts, “full of Malice, Rage and Blood” (Rediker, Villains, 130). Frequently, they were described as being possessed by Satan. In a sermon delivered to a congregation that included pirate victims, Reverend John Barnard proclaimed:

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Think of what God has Delivered you from… a Herd of Wild Beasts; among whom… prodigious Defiances of Heaven and Amazing Assurances of their own Damnation… gave you the Liveliest Picture of Hell, and rendered your companions no better than Devils Incarnate. (qtd. in Rediker, Villains, 132)

Passages such as this influenced the way Lawes speaks about pirates in the play. Rackham and the company are aware of how they are demonized, so I chose to have Rackham and the company echo Lawes’ descriptions of pirates in Act 2, Scene 3. Rackham’s history in the play is very much concerned with the city of Nassau, which lies on Providence Island in the Bahamas. In 1715, , along with Blackbeard (who, in the play, is upheld almost as a king-like figure by the company) and several others, declared that all who lived there were under his protection and thus the was born (Woodard 112- 113). Johnson would refer to it as a “Colony of Rogues” (AGH 141), completely outside the control of the British government. The real Rackham was part of this confederation and, as many of his crew members are said to have originated there, it is likely Corner, Featherstone and Harwood also had strong ties to Nassau. The British authorities were highly concerned about the influx of pirate activity. In response, King George I issued a “Proclamation for Suppressing of Pyrates” on September 5, 1717 (31). The document stated that any pirate who surrendered before September 5, 1718, would have the King’s “gracious pardon” (31). Any pirate who did not surrender by that date would be brought to justice. The rewards for captured pirates were rich: £100 for every captain, £40 for every lieutenant, master, boatswain, carpenter and gunner; and £30 for every other officer (32). It was the responsibility of the governors to alert the pirates about the King’s pardon. However, spreading the word was difficult. In June 1718, Nicholas Lawes wrote to London:

It is with great concern that I must still acquaint your Lordships of the daily complaints I receive of and robberies committed in these parts, insomuch that there is hardly one ship or vessel coming or going out of this island that is not plundered. (qtd. in Cordingly, Under, 107)

Documents such as this influenced the language used by Lawes in his correspondences to . While Rogers does not appear in the play, he does influence the company’s lives as the many who took Nassau away from them. In 1718, Rogers, who had served as a privateer in the the decade prior, was dispatched to Nassau as her new governor. However, before he even arrived, some pirates were considering their precarious situation. Nassau became divided. On one 17 side were those who wished to accept the King’s pardon, such as Hornigold who, as a former privateer, was eager to regain legitimacy. On the other were those who were enraged by the proclamation, including Charles Vane and Rackham, who was his then-quartermaster (Woodard 229). By the time Rogers arrived in Nassau, many pirates had taken the pardon and left the island. Vane was putting up a resistance. In an attempt to drive out the HMS Rose (one of Rogers’ ships that had arrived the previous evening), Vane set a French frigate on fire. When Rogers and his fleet arrived, Vane was forced to flee the harbour, firing his guns in defiance (Cordingly, Under, 152). Rogers immediately took possession of Fort Nassau and accepted the surrender of the three hundred people who lived there. He formed a council, appointing a secretary-general and a chief justice (153). With the fort left in disrepair by the pirates, Rogers imposed martial law and ordered the island’s residents and their slaves to rebuild the fort (Woodard 284). He then commissioned Hornigold as a pirate hunter and sent him out in pursuit of Vane (Cordingly, Under, 153). While Hornigold was unable to apprehend Vane, he captured ten pirates at the island of Exuma. Rogers was satisfied and chose to make an example of the captives. On December 12, 1718, the prisoners were escorted by a hundred soldiers up to the fort’s ramparts (154). They were allowed time for prayer, but instead they used it to make unflattering remarks about the government. After one last- minute reprieve, the marshal gave the order and the men were hanged (Rediker, Villains, 11). After only a few short years of existence, the Republic of Pirates had fallen. Rogers continued to improve the defenses of the island, appointing three companies of militia to prevent surprise attacks (Cordingly, Under, 155). The official motto of the Bahamas is reflective of his deeds: “Expulsis Piratis, Comercia Restitua; Pirates Expelled, Commerce Restored” (Woodard 328), which is employed by Lawes in the play after the crew’s execution. The fall of the Republic of Pirates is remembered by Rackham in his rallying speech (Act 2, Scene 3). While some of the events appear differently (Rackham implies that Rogers did most of the damage to the city, whereas, historically, Vane is probably responsible), I tried to reflect on the event from the perspective of a man who had his home taken away by someone he viewed as an enemy. When it came to capture, most pirates did not go quietly. By choosing piracy, they had claimed a certain degree of control over their lives and this was not easily given up, even in the face of death. Many companies, like that of Bartholomew Roberts, swore that they would rather blow themselves up then give the British authorities the satisfaction of executing them (Rediker, Villains, 18

149). Blackbeard did not have the chance to blow himself up. During his company’s last stand against Lieutenant , Blackbeard suffered five shots and twenty cuts before he died (Cordingly, Under, 198). Maynard would then proceed to decapitate the body and sling the head below the bowsprit of his ship before returning to Virginia (199). This incident is referred to by Anne when she is in prison, wishing that she had been killed instead of captured. If a pirate was not killed during his capture, he would be brought to the nearest gaol and then taken to trial. Trials and executions were dramatic, public affairs that attracted a great amount of publicity. Rediker writes that they were “terroristic propaganda” (Villains, 149). Trials lasted no more than two days and it was the duty of the governor to preside over them. The accused had no legal representation and most could not make a case for their defense. They either claimed they were drunk, claimed they had been captured, or said nothing at all. The majority of captured pirates were found guilty and sentenced to hanging, usually en mass (Cordingly, Under, 228). It was so common that Nicholas Lawes referred to it as “the usual sentence” (Woodard 310), a phrase echoed by the fictional Lawes in the play. Between 1716 and 1726, over 400 men were executed for piracy (Cordingly, Under, 227). Some pirates were gibbetted after their execution. A gibbet was an iron cage into which the body of an executed criminal was placed and put on display, an “honour” reserved for pirate captains and those holding positions of authority aboard the ship (227). There are two islands just beyond the harbour that were used for this purposes. Following his execution in November 1720, John Rackham was gibbetted on the first island, then called Deadman’s Cay. It would later be re- named Rackham’s Cay, which is its name to this day (Woodard 320). This history of piracy in the 18th century is vast, complex and, at times, contradictory. Though I have emphasized the importance of a historical context for Weather the Storm – both as a way to enrichen the setting and characters, and to reject tropes from the popular image of pirates – it is impossible to incorporate everything. Weather the Storm is not, and will never be, 100% historically accurate, but that, perhaps, is the point: we can never be certain what true accuracy is in history. However, what historical fiction offers is a story that, when contextualized, can offer a look at what history may have been like.

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CHAPTER TWO Women of the High Seas

To sail upon the sea was to enter the domain of men. Ships were gendered workplaces and seafaring was considered to be a line of work that “made a man” out of those who chose it (Rediker, Villains, 110). Women were unwelcome and, as per maritime folklore, thought to bring bad luck should they ever find themselves aboard a ship (Appleby 191). Unsurprisingly, fiction set upon the sea typically dramatizes this notion – even the highly anachronistic pirate/fantasy film Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl features a character who says (twice): “It’s frightful bad luck to have a woman onboard.” In actuality, women were not completely absent from the lives of sailors, fulfilling many roles both in the waterfronts and upon ships. But recorded history has a skewed relationship with its portrayal of women – too often, their contributions are overlooked or deemed unimportant. Women who went to sea are either regarded as being “not really there” or were recorded as male sailors. As Jo Stanley writes, “women are especially absent from histories of organisations such as armies or navies because they were not supposed to be there” (52). Historical fiction can play a role in reconsidering known history, either by presenting an audience with a different perspective or introducing them to new historical content. A crucial part of reconstructing Anne Bonny and Mary Read’s lives stems from an understanding of the roles played by women who associated with sailors and pirates, the reasons why women went to sea, and how cross-dressing factored into their lives.

2.1. From Shore to Sea to Prison While there was no legal prohibition against women being employed as sailors, women’s traditional domestic service combined with maritime customs mutually reinforced the idea that women could not be employed on ships (Appleby 192). Though women were physically capable of doing the harsh work on a ship, they were thought to be unable to cope with the punishing environment. Furthermore, there was a widespread belief that women and sex were detrimental to the work (Rediker, Villains, 110). This is perhaps the basis for the “women bring bad luck” superstition: their presence threatened the social order of the ship, upsetting a delicate balance. Women became sources of conflict between crew members and were also deemed “too distracting” to have onboard. Young boys were sometimes viewed in similar ways, for similar reasons. This led to some pirate crews writing lethal punishments into their codes for the sailor who smuggled a woman (or young 20 boy) aboard. There appeared to be an unspoken agreement among sailors that sexual repression was necessary for fostering an unhampered work environment (111). It is unknown how many women became sailors (and, by extension, pirates) during the 18th century. The issue is documentation: the only way the female sailor could be recorded as a woman is if her identity was both unmasked and publicized (Cordingly, Women, 60). While there are at least twenty genuine cases of female sailors in the 17th and 18th century British navy (61), there are no existing autobiographies, diaries or letters from female pirates (Stanley 54). As for other maritime nations, there is some evidence for women sailors being employed by French privateers, however these accounts come from British women who happened to sail with them while disguised (Cordingly, Women, 76; 78). Bonny and Read remain the only known female pirates from this period because their identity can be verified by their trial records. Stanley proposes that 50 to 100 of the pirates operating in the 18th century were cross-dressed women (39). As pirate crews were significantly more relaxed than the navy or merchant service, a cross-dressed woman was more likely to find employment on a pirate ship (41). How did a woman come to find herself aboard a sailing vessel? A lucky few came from upper classes and inherited family wealth. Such women achieved powerful positions and were feared and respected, like Alfhild in the 5th century, Grace O’Malley in the 16th or Cheng I Sao in the 19th. (37). Most seafaring women were not so fortunate, particularly in the 18th century. Like their male counterparts, they came from low social backgrounds (a point that is stressed in both Anne and Mary’s backstories). Deprived of any personal wealth, they had only their labour to sell (55). These women most likely worked in some capacity on the waterfront prior to joining a sailing vessel. Ports functioned in a similar manner to military camps: they were the meeting grounds between women who wanted to get paid and men who would rather pay for services than care for themselves. Harbour fronts became part of a bustling subculture amongst the working class, characterized by a “climate of casual and intermittent brutality and plunder” (113). The arrival of pirates was often a mixed blessing. Alexandre Exquemelin includes devastating reports of coastal women being raped, terrorized and killed in his 1678 account of piracy, The Buccaneers of America. However, in 18th century pirate strongholds like Nassau, women were often wives and supporters, developing profitable co-operations with their criminal visitors (117). These relationships were essential to pirates’ survival between voyages. Whatever assistance was given was most likely informal and erratic, dependent on a woman’s relation to the pirate in 21 question (120). Sexual services were predominant. Exquemelin includes a tale about a pirate who paid a prostitute five hundred pieces of eight (roughly the equivalent of $2800 today) just to see her naked (82). Wherever piracy flourished, so did prostitution (Appleby 94). While Weather the Storm does not dwell long on depicting the pirates’ association with coastal women, it is important in establishing the aspects of Anne’s relationship with Rackham – she knows he, like his men, partakes in the services offered by women at port. Furthermore, the crew’s demeanour when they arrive at Harbour Island (Act 1, Scene 4) – gawking at the women ashore, encouraging to Harwood to “find a lass” – is coloured by this history. A final point is that the crew is discovered by the settlement’s authorities due to being sold out by the woman with whom they trade. Women who came into contact with sailors and pirates would sometimes sail with them. There are two primary categories for women who sailed. The first is those who sailed informally, invited onto the ship for one reason or another. Some were prostitutes, hired to provide sex to crew members, usually on short voyages (Stanley 129). Others were sailors’ daughters or wives. In these cases, women sometimes dodged the “bad luck” superstition on account of being attached to a father or husband and, therefore were considered “not really women” (130). Anne falls into this category. At the beginning of the play, she is defined by her relationship to Rackham. She is his mistress, not a proper sailor. After meeting Mary, she becomes aware of this status and, in a dual effort to prove Mary wrong and claim an identity separate from Rackham, she begins to assert herself. The second category is of women who sailed as formal crew members. Young women of low social standing, often set adrift by the loss of family members, had no settled community or high- earning skills. Sailing became a viable option as an alternative to prostitution (147). These women dressed as men and usually ended up passing for teenaged boys, who were employed in abundance on most ships. As sailors’ clothes were long and baggy, and hair was typically worn long and tied back in a ponytail, all that needed to be done was to bind the breasts sufficiently enough to hide them under a shirt (Cordingly, Women, 63). This is the category into which Mary falls. She is disguised as a man when we meet her. She remains dressed as such throughout the play, indicative of the life she has led since she was a child (eleven years old in my mind, though this was deleted from the script). It is also a crucial part of her identity: she is a sailor, and she cannot imagine herself as anything else. Not all women were necessarily disguised as men in order to serve on sailing vessels. In 1741, was listed without comment among the thirty-five sailors of a privateer ship (Stanley 143). She was even entitled to the same share as her fellow crew members (170). This 22 example, though outside the norm, stands to prove that male sailors could learn to sail with “out” women, as Rackham’s crew does in Act 2. Women involved with pirates in any manner were, by association, involved in crime. Though Anne and Mary are the only known female pirates to stand trial, many women engaged in criminal activity were caught, convicted and executed (Stanley 154). When facing a death sentence, a woman had an option unavailable to men: she could “plead her belly”. As the courts were not allowed to take an innocent life along with a condemned one, convicted women claimed pregnancy in order to postpone their execution or respite it completely. Once a claim was made, a jury of matrons (usually midwives) was assembled to determine whether or not the woman was telling the truth. The amount of time it took to assemble the matrons varied—in some cases, it was immediately, in others it could take a month or more. The matrons took the convicted woman to a private room and conducted a physical exam. If they could not reach a unanimous decision about whether or not the woman was pregnant, they would side with the majority (Durston 514). The determining factor for the court was whether or not the woman was found to be “quick with child”, meaning she was far enough along in her pregnancy to feel the fetus moving. However, in practice, early stages of pregnancy were difficult to discern. If the matrons suspected pregnancy, the execution would sometimes be suspended despite the woman not being “quick with child” (514). The 17th, 18th and 19th centuries are dotted with examples of women who unsuccessfully plead their bellies and were executed. However, in many 18th century cases, women who plead were kept in prison for several months, regardless of whether they were pregnant or not, after which they were permanently reprieved and released (515). As a jury of matrons was not established for Bonny and Read, it is possible that an inspection was never carried out. Stanley theorizes that the lack of a jury was due to Bonny and Read being considered “small fry”. The Admiralty Court already had plenty of convicts to hang in order to demonstrate that pirates would always be punished, so dealing with two possibly pregnant women was not worth the trouble (157). In Act 3, Mary’s plan to escape the hangman’s noose depends on her ability to become pregnant as soon as possible. As she is in the very, very early stages of pregnancy during her November trial, she is also trusting that there would be a delay in sending an examiner.

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2.2. Crossdressing Ladies The figure of the cross-dressed woman (usually in the form of a female warrior) is common throughout Western literature and folklore, reaching back to the Amazons. Wheelwright argues that stories about sexual inversion serve the important role of “[disrupting] and ultimately [clarifying] often fluid or evolving concepts of sexual difference” (Amazons, 7). Throughout British history, numerous women dressed as men and court cases quickly piled up detailing women who were prosecuted for stealing men’s clothes and for the fraudulent behaviour that came with crossdressing. By the early 18th century, Britain was facing an economic, social and political evolution and warrior women had become a symbol of the female aggression (8). In fiction, cross-dressed women were romanticized, depicted in popular literature and drama as the “sexualized outlaw” and enshrined in a thrilling veneer of violent glamour – allowable only because she would eventually be punished accordingly for her misdeeds (11; 47). Real life cross-dressed women were demonized by a change- fearing public, who blamed the women’s transgressive actions on “dark passions” caused by an upheaval in social norms (156). It is important to note that women did not cross-dress in a purposeful attempt to rebel against gender roles. Rather, crossdressing “often remained a process of imitation rather than a self- conscious claiming of the social privileges given exclusively to men for all women” (Wheelwright, Amazons, 11). Any form of rebellion by women was done on a very personal level, and cross- dressed women who rejected female roles in favour for male ones did so with a high degree of self- denial (12). Most cross-dressed women were between 16 and 25 years of age when they chose to change their appearance (Stanley 149). Seafaring women found convenience in the mobility granted by men’s clothing. Furthermore, men’s clothes gave them an anonymous identity which protected them from sexual assault (Wheelwright, “Tarts”, 180). It took a certain amount of cunning and caution to pull off the disguise over an extended period of time. Ships below decks were crowded. Sailors slept in hammocks, almost one on top of the other, with only inches of space between them. Toilet facilities were primitive. To avoid discovery, some women fashioned false penises out of tubes or horns to aid with urination (not unlike the Stand-to-Pee (STP) devices used by trans men and gender non-conforming individuals today) (167). Another difficulty women faced was menstruation. While it is possible that the harsh physical conditions along with poor nutrition caused them to experience irregular cycles, it is also possible that bloodstained clothes were not commented upon due to 24 widespread diseases like gonorrhea causing similar effects (Cordingly, Women, 64). Women who became ill or injured would often suffer in silence or dealt with the ailment themselves rather than allow a physician to examine her (Stanley 166). I considered incorporating details such as these into how I portrayed Mary and Anne navigated life on the ship. In very early scenes, Anne was disguised as a man and expressed to Rackham her frustration in the regimen she had to undertake in order to maintain her façade. However, these ideas were dropped as they felt unnecessary to the action after I decided Anne would sail as an “out” woman. As Mary had a decade’s worth of experience, it seemed trivial to go into the details of how she did it – the important note was that she did. The only remnant of this avenue is in Mary having enough medical knowledge to know the common practices in caring for a shattered limb. If she had been caring for her own ailments both in the military and at sea, chances were she would come across that knowledge out of preparation for the worst. As a modern women looking at the past, the question of gender identity is an intriguing one. Judith Butler theorized that gender is a construction, a cultural fiction created by the repetition of certain acts (178). However, contemporary notions about the performance of gender and gender identity cannot necessarily be thrust upon women of the past. Cross-dressed women took male names when they donned their disguises, but most reverted to their female given name after discovery. However, women like George Wilson, who refused to be called by a female name, suggests it is possible that some cross-dressed women came to identify as men (Wheelwright, Amazons, 86). On the whole, cross-dressed women were not expressing a desire for a male body, but rather a male social identity (13). In writing Mary, I had to consider how deeply invested she was in her identity as “Matthew Read”. At the beginning of the play, she had been playing this role for well over a decade. Did she believe herself to be a man? If so, how is that belief thrown into question when Anne discovers that “Matthew” has the sex characteristics of a woman? In the end, including this kind of gender dysphoria became far too complex to thoroughly investigate in the parameters of the play. Neither did it feel appropriate for the kind of play I was writing. I am sure it is possible to present a Mary Read character as transgender, but for Weather the Storm, I was more interested in how Mary re- claimed and came to terms with her female identity. She announces her confusion to Anne when Anne calls her “Mary” because she is confronted by a part of herself she left unacknowledged for years (Act 1, Scene 7). Now that Anne is “in the know”, Mary cannot ignore it any longer, but it is 25 only after she suffers the consequences of keeping her identity hidden that she can come to embrace it fully. This moment is reflective of the experiences of several female soldiers and sailors where “the discovery of their real identity marked the beginning rather than the end of a life split in two” (105). However, for most cross-dressed women—no matter how skilled they were—discovery of their female identity meant instant dismissal from their ship or regiment (84). A consistent theme in the biographies of unmasked women is their male comrades’ surprise and inability to know what to do with them (80). Letting the woman in question stay was virtually unthinkable, particularly in the British navy or military. Men sought to immediately send her back to “safe, female hands” who could then assign her to an appropriate domestic role (81). Furthermore, revealing her identity could make a woman vulnerable to abuse (89). When Margaret Thompson, a sailor in the British navy, revealed that she was a woman, she was accused of theft and flogged for her trespasses (Cordingly, Women, 64). George Wilson was also flogged for refusing to give up her men’s clothes after she was convicted of theft (Wheelwright, Amazons, 86). In 1746, Mary Hamilton’s punishment for her deviant behaviour was immortalized in a pamphlet entitled The Female Husband (Baker 213). Hamilton was convicted of fraud after marrying a woman while disguised as a man. She was sentenced to six months hard labour and publically whipped for her indiscretions (220). Cross-dressed women usually revealed their identities when they were forced to by circumstance. When Mary Anne Talbot found herself in the care of a military man, she was forced to join his regiment disguised as a footboy. After he died, she continued to dress as a man, eventually joining a French privateer’s sloop. When she was captured, she found herself in London facing the press-gang. She revealed her identity and was handed over to a surgeon, who verified that she was telling the truth. She was released from service (76-77). The revelation of Mary’s gender to the crew is a crucial point, both in terms of plot and character (see Chapter Four). My portrayal of it was initially influenced by accounts like Talbot’s and Thompson’s. Having made herself vulnerable to abuse in the past, Mary is not keen anyone knowing her identity, except for Anne (who discovers it by accident). With Rackham threatening her life, the only way to diffuse the situation is to declare herself a woman, but Mary cannot bring herself to do it (Act 1, Scene 11). In the end, Anne does it to save her life, despite knowledge of the consequences Mary suffered in the past when her identity was unmasked. Like Talbot, the claim needs to be verified, causing Mary to be literally stripped of her disguise. But unlike most women 26 who were found out, Mary negotiates a way to stay on the ship, utilizing her highly valued skills as a bargaining chip. Unfortunately, thanks to the codes she swore to, this negotiation comes with a high cost. She is lashed, a punishment reminiscent of those suffered by Thompson, Wilson and Hamilton, but also of punishments written into pirate codes (see Chapter One).

2.3. The Enigma of Anne Bonny and Mary Read We do not know what the real Anne Bonny and Mary Read looked like. Their images in A General History were based on conjecture as the artists most likely did not attend their trial. The original drawings (for the first English edition) portrayed them as masculine—it would be impossible to know that they were women if the caption did not say so. Their masculine images coupled with the feminine captions portray their gender as malleable. However, the 1725 Dutch edition introduced the notion of portraying them as obviously female, with open shirts and jackets and their breasts on display. According to Sally O’Driscoll’s analysis of A General History’s images, Bonny and Read “immediately read as female, and their masculine attire seems to the modern eye more like an erotic party costume than real clothes” (359). The repackaging of cross-dressed (and therefore “hidden”) women into blatantly obvious women is an example of both the 18th century’s cultural sexualisation of the warrior woman (360), which has been echoed in later adaptations, particularly in The Women Pirates, where Ann Bonney has a tendency of “standing, legs apart, inviting and challenging” (emphasis mine) (26). But it also begs the question: how did these women dress and behave? A look at the testimonies provided at Bonny and Read’s trial shows that they dressed in men’s clothes and engaged in masculine behaviour—when they were attacking their victims, at least. Thomas Dillon claimed that “Ann Bonny, one of the Prisoners at the Bar, had a Gun in her hand, that they were both very profligate, cursing and swearing much, and very ready and willing to do anything onboard” (“Tryals” 28). This statement was pulled and used directly in Lawes’ speech to Anne and Mary at their trial (Act 2, Scene 1). Dillon’s remark at Bonny and Read’s willingness to participate in onboard duties was echoed by two Frenchmen, John Besneck and Peter Cornelian, who witnessed Rackham’s attack on Thomas Spenlow. As Spenlow was held hostage for two days, the French sailors witnessed much of the women’s behaviour. They saw Bonny hand gunpowder to the men; they also claimed that when the women “saw any Vessel, gave Chase, or Attacked, they wore Mens Cloathes; and at other times, they wore Womens Cloathes” (28). The most extensive account 27 of Bonny and Read’s appearance comes from Dorothy Thomas, their final victim. The trial records record her account as such:

…the Two Women, Prisoners at the Bar, were then on Board the said Sloop, and wore Mens Jackets, and long Trouzers, and Handkerchiefs tied about their Heads; and that each of them had a Machet and Pistol in their Hands, and cursed and swore at the Men, to murther the Deponent; and that they should kill her, to prevent her coming against them; and the Deponent further said, that the reason of her knowing and believing them to Women then was by the largeness of their Breasts. (27)

These three testimonies taken together depict a fairly clear picture: Bonny and Read, like cross- dressed seafaring women of their day, engaged in behaviour and dressed in a manner that was seen as transgressive for women in the 18th century. Even so, they could still be identified as women. Thomas’ statement that she identified them by the “largeness of their breasts” could imply that they left their shirts open, as depicted in their post-1725 Dutch edition images from A General History. Her testimony also implies that Bonny and Read may have occupied positions of power aboard the ship, perhaps even commanding their fellow crew members (Wheelwright, “Tarts”, 180). If that were true, maybe my positioning of Anne as quartermaster and Mary as sailing master was not so far off from reality. It is impossible to know if sailors’ clothes were worn simply for functionality, or if they were also worn to make the men more comfortable in the presence of women (Stanley 168). However, it is of interest that the French sailors claimed that Bonny and Read did sometimes wear women’s clothes. When they wore women’s clothes can never be known, but presumably it was during times where mobility and functionality were not key, such as celebrations and merrymaking. If this claim is true, then Bonny and Read step outside the traditional markers of the cross-dressed woman narrative who begins in women’s clothes, then dons men’s, and then returns to wearing women’s attire once she retires from that life or has her identity is exposed. The women’s gender presentation becomes malleable depending on the activities of the crew. For functional reasons, I excised Anne and Mary wearing women’s clothes. However, the stage directions describe Anne wearing a “plain, almost conservative dress” in the final scene, which is intended to be an indicator of how time has passed and that she has chosen to take up the responsibility of raising her children. In adapting these aspects, I had to consider how the cross-dressed woman would look on stage to the modern eye. That women can wear masculine clothing—a thought that terrified and threatened the collective cultural consciousness of the 18th century—is practically a non-issue in 28 modern Canadian culture. As a woman, I can enjoy the comfort and practicality of pants without causing stray men to start raving about how I must be possessed by the devil. Modern fashion is built on the idea that femininity and masculinity can be played with and that our ideas about what constitutes “feminine” and “masculine” are constantly shifting (Wilson 122). It was not useful to consider the clothing items themselves as a signifier of gender. Rather, it was the manner in which the clothes were worn that signified gender. In Act 1, Scene 7 Anne attempts to encourage Mary to embrace her female identity. She tells her, “I’m not asking you to put on petticoats and lace. Your clothing doesn’t change who you are—do you look at me and see a man?” Even though Anne is dressed in sailors’ clothes, the way in which she wears them relates that she is a woman. Mary, by contrast, is also dressed in sailors’ clothes, but she wears them in a manner that indicates that she is performing the male gender. Ideally, by Act 2, as Anne and Mary become more confident in the roles they want to attain (i.e. a position of power for Anne, an understanding of her feminine identity for Mary), the manner in which they wear their clothes should balance out, occupying an androgynous space.

29

CHAPTER THREE An Old-Fashioned (Queer) Love Story

Possibly the most distinctive feature of Weather the Storm is the romantic and sexual nature of Anne and Mary’s relationship. Of the relationship, Vanessa told me, “I think that’s something you don’t see in theatre very often, so it was refreshing to have this relationship […] It felt really real” (personal interview). The idea that either woman could sexually desire other women is not original, but neither is it a common element. Aside from Starz’ Black Sails (2014), where Anne Bonny engages in sexual relationships with both men and women, and a few instances of lesbian erotic literature (such as Erica Jong’s novel Fanny), the overwhelming majority of material based on Anne Bonny and Mary Read’s lives slots them into heteronormative narratives where their stories are dominated by the voices of the men around them. Bonny must remain Rackham’s mistress; Read must take a male lover (see Chapter Four). For what worth is a story centred on the relationship between two women without being clear that they are both attached to a male romantic interest? Diverse representation in all media is important. As our understanding of gender and sexuality grows, so does the need to see that understanding reflected in the media that we consume. To see yourself unrepresented in TV, film, books and theatre can make you feel like your identity is not valid, that your experiences are not enough, that you need to conform to certain ideals and expectations. Representation of LGBTQ individuals can also help foster understanding in those who are unaccustomed to interacting with LGBTQ people. While there is a wealth of excellent work from queer theatre artists and playwrights like Tony Kushner, Sky Gilbert, Peggy Shaw and Holly Hughes, there can and always should be more. Furthermore, many queer theatre pieces focus on gay and/or lesbian experiences, but that is not the extent of queer experience. Where are the stories about bisexuals? Transgender individuals? Asexuals? Queer, questioning, intersex—it goes on and on. Modern “queerness” exists as a “badge of subversiveness”, something connecting marginalized groups who take an oppositional stance to mainstream heteronormativity (Halperin 341-342). One of my aims as a playwright (and not simply for Weather the Storm) is to write sexually diverse characters. As a queer woman, I feel the lack of representation for sexual minorities on a personal level, particularly when it comes to historical fiction. Due to a lack of historical evidence prior to the modern period, queer women are often dismissed. However, queer women did not suddenly spring into existence in the twentieth century. These women were present throughout various ages, cultures and societies, as attested to by diaries, 30 travel accounts, poetry and other similar documents that express desire and affection between women (Jennings xi-xii). Therefore, their presence should be acknowledged and represented in works of historical fiction. In Weather the Storm, Anne and Mary are portrayed as bisexual and lesbian, respectively. As these terms did not exist in the 18th century, they are not used in the text. However, here I will be using the terms in order to clarify the differences between Anne and Mary’s individual sexualities.

3.1. 18th Century Sapphism, the Female Pirate and Historical Fiction The first suggestion of something romantic between the historical Anne Bonny and Mary Read comes from the 1765 edition of A General History. O’Driscoll argues that later editions of Johnson’s document played to their readers, who were titillated by the potential for overt female sexuality. In addition to expanding on Bonny’s “lustful” personality (in a 1726 version, it was claimed that Anne had multiple affairs with various men while in Jamaica), these editions also played up the homoerotic nature already present in the illustrations of Bonny and Read (366-367). In the 1765 edition, a passage describing Read at trial implies that she referred to Bonny as her “lover”:

But she denied [the charges against her] with a great deal of art and skill, saying it was impossible for a woman to be guilty of what they swore against her, and that she entered into the service of the privateer purely upon the account of Anne Bonny, who was her lover. (qtd. in O’Driscoll 365-366)

The text does not expand upon what is meant by “lover”. In the 18th century, it was not uncommon for women to have some kind of romantic or sensual relationship with other women. Women who desired women were referred to as “sapphists” or “tribades” (Jennings xvii), although the latter was a derogatory term for a woman assumed to have an enlarged clitoris which allowed her to imitate the missionary position with her female partners (Faderman 31). Romantic female friendship, considered to be “noble” and “virtuous”, was glorified, particularly in literature, although such relationships were devoid of sexual contact (103). On the other hand, pornographic material featuring women engaging in sexual and erotic acts with other women were extremely popular. Such acts were usually depicted as a way to prepare a woman for heterosexual intercourse (28). It is believed by most lesbian historians that women who engaged in homosexual sex were not punished for it as severely as men. The English 1533 Act of Parliament condemned sodomy, making it punishable by death. However, sodomy was defined as either sex between men OR sex 31 between a man or woman and an animal (Jennings 1). If homosexuality was considered to be so deviant and illicit, why disregard female homosexual acts? In early modern Europe, sex was phallocentric. It was inconceivable to men that a woman could derive significant sexual pleasure if a man (and therefore a penis) was not present (Faderman 29). Furthermore, because sex between women is non-reproductive, it was not – and could not – be considered “real” sex and therefore did not threaten a woman’s chastity. Societies became focused on illicit sexual behaviour that directly threatened marriages (such as adultery or a woman having a child out of wedlock). Men considered sexual and erotic acts between women both amusing and unthreatening (Jennings 3-4). In the play, this is precisely the attitude Rackham takes towards Anne’s developing relationship with Mary. When he believes Mary to be a man, he feels threatened and nearly kills her. When he knows she is a woman, he ceases to feel that his relationship with Anne is endangered by her. This attitude is one that Anne stakes Mary’s life on at the end of Act 1. During Act 2, Rackham regards Anne and Mary’s relationship with a certain amount of amused bewilderment (Act 2, Scene 7). Even after Anne insists on Mary’s importance, he is still dismissive of Anne’s feelings for her, calling it a “fascination” (which was my way of saying “it’s just a phase” in words that sounded suitable for the setting). It is only through Anne’s rejection of him and her emphasis that she does, indeed, love Mary that Rackham begins to take her seriously (Act 2, Scene 9). However, the dismissive behaviour towards lesbian sexuality was only true for women who retained their feminine dress and behaviour. Cross-dressed women, who looked and behaved like men, caused a significant amount of social anxiety, particularly if they took over a man’s sexual role. European societies held varying beliefs about the sexual nature of these women. With phallocentricism colouring their viewpoint, it was believed that the cross-dressed woman was either in possession of a dildo (which she used to “trick” her unsuspecting partner) or was suspected of being a hermaphrodite and therefore in possession of both male and female sex organs (Faderman 36). Believed to be a threat to the male position in the social hierarchy, these women were punished for their transgressions by banishment, flogging or execution (Brown 73). Once again, here is an example of historically transgressive women being punished for their way of life. As discussed in Chapter Two, the 18th century was inundated with systemic violence. The cross-dressed queer woman faced punishment for every aspect of her identity: punishment for her mode of dress, punishment for her masculine behaviour, punishment for her sexuality. I was not going to put my protagonists through an obscene amount of violence for the sake of being 32

“historically accurate”—particularly when the history in question is derived from a small sample of surviving documents. The level of violence 18th century women faced in all aspects of their lives was, I believe, experienced by many, but not necessarily by all. Already historical fiction of all forms is saturated with stories that feature violence and sexual harassment, to varying degrees, as an integral part of female characters backstories, daily interactions and/or character development. The Women Pirates includes a scene where Mary is sexually harassed by the man she is supposed to be in love with (17). Black Sails could not go three episodes into its first season without featuring the gang-rape of one of its main female characters (“III”). Featuring consistent violence in the lives and backstories of female characters leaves the impression that women must suffer violence, become stronger because of it, or die. Death is a common end for fictional queer women (historical or not), particularly on television. In March of this year, a prominent lesbian character on the CW’s The 100 was killed by a stray bullet directly after consummating her relationship with her lover. This prompted a massive online conversation about the portrayal of queer women in media. Autostraddle compiled a list of all 155 lesbian and bisexual characters killed off since television’s inception (which does not sound like a large number until you consider that only 4% of existing television characters are identified as LGBTQ) (Reise autostraddle.com). The Washington Post reported that LGBTQ viewers were calling for writers to stop depicting their queer female characters as disposable, secondary characters that lacked compelling storylines. With so many queer women killed for shock value, it leaves the effect that lesbian and bisexual women and their stories are unimportant (Butler washingtonpost.com). It gets tiring. One incident of direct violence against a woman in my play (Mary’s flogging) was enough to capture the violent environment which my characters inhabited. My goal was to recognize, but not sensationalize the violence encountered by women. I did not want Anne or Mary to be punished for their sexual relationship in Act 2. I wanted to show them as content in their relationship, with the conflict originating from their opposing personalities, needs and desires, rather the threat of punishment from outside forces. With Mary hiding her gender in Act 1, it felt repetitive to have Anne and Mary hide their relationship in Act 2. If I was seeking to have a positive representation of a queer relationship between women, it felt unsatisfying and unpleasant to focus on them hiding their relationship and dealing with the fear of being caught. 33

Furthermore, I wanted to be certain that Mary’s death was a dramatically sound end to her journey. As I was following the online clamour about lesbian and bisexual deaths on TV, I became concerned about my decision to kill Mary off. Though that choice is grounded in history (see Chapter Four), I am writing fiction—her death was a choice I made. In order to ensure that Mary’s death did not appear to be sensational or included for shock value, I emphasized the choices that led her to her death in the first place. Her environment does not punish her for being a sexually deviant woman. Rather, her death comes about because of the choices she makes in order to survive. She chooses to impregnate herself so she can claim pregnancy; she manipulates the circumstances so it can happen; and she dies due to complications of said pregnancy. Another crucial aspect was depicting Rackham and the crew eventually coming to respect Anne and Mary. As men taught to oppose the presence of women aboard ships, they could have continued to dismiss Anne and Mary because they are women (as Featherstone does, emphasized by his insistence on calling Anne a “whore”). They could have been outraged that Anne and Mary – as cross-dressed women – were sexually involved. However, when it comes to feminist and queer writing, I believe it is more helpful to portray characters undergoing a process of acceptance rather than to write characters that are sexist, homophobic and obstinate and only exist to provide the “wrong” point of view. I also wanted Rackham and the crew to be flawed, but genuinely likeable— otherwise, the audience would not feel anything for them when they are executed, nor would Anne and Mary have reason to stay on the ship if the men were completely intolerable. Throughout Act 1 and Act 2, Anne and Mary move from being outsiders to respected members of the crew (Mary more so than Anne—it’s far from perfect). The tragedy is that by the time they gain that level of respect, it is taken away from them when their company is captured. Still, it is possible that historical Rackham and his crew could have been genuinely accepting of Bonny and Read, regardless of 18th century attitudes towards queer and cross-dressed women. As pirates were generally more accepting of transgressive and deviant behaviour than other sailors, it is possible that a sexual relationship between women was no cause for concern. However, as there are no records detailing the sexuality of pirate women, it is impossible to know. The most that can be done is to infer pirate attitudes about female homosexuality from their attitudes about male homosexuality. Peter Leeson states that the assumption that most pirate crews were gay is invalid because, while there is not concrete evidence for a predominantly homosexual environment, there is evidence of pirates engaging in sex with women (7). To that, I would like to say that perhaps 34 sexuality is not a strict binary of gay and straight—perhaps they enjoyed relationships with both men and women. While pirates certainly had sexual contact with the women who were their wives, mistresses or prostitutes, they also practiced matelotage. Matelotage existed as a master-servant relationship, wherein a younger man (usually a youth) sold himself to an older man to obtain food or to satisfy debts. Though in some instances such a relationship was characterized by violence, other times they gained “a generally recognized bond” and an “inviolable attachment” that was viewed as sacrosanct (Burg 128). Furthermore, many pirates fled from the merchant service or navy, which were both known for delivering death sentences to those accused of sodomy (see Chapter One). Considering the presence of male homosexual acts between sailors, perhaps it is not such a leap to consider that pirates – and the women they interacted with – could have been queer. As the play is focused on Anne and Mary, I chose not to directly address or represent male homosexuality on pirate crews. With two romantic/sexual relationships already in the play, I wanted to keep the crew relationship-free so as not to detract from the relationships between Anne, Mary and Rackham and to keep their unity as an ensemble.

3.2. Bisexual and Lesbian Representation The portrayal of queer women in historical fiction is important not just for the pursuit of reconstructing women’s history, but also for modern day audiences seeking LGBTQ representation. Our understanding of sexuality is constantly developing, and fiction has a responsibility to reflect that – particularly in the case of lesser known sexual orientations (like bisexuality) which are often misunderstood, considered invisible and plagued by clichés and stereotypes. Oftentimes they are fetishized. My aim in writing Anne as a bisexual woman and Mary as a lesbian was to both comment upon and subvert notions about these particular orientations. In 1948, Alfred Kinsey and his colleagues published a study entitled “Sexual Behaviour in the Human Male” which lay the foundation for future understandings of sexual diversity. The study postulated that some people experience heterosexual attraction, some homosexual attraction, and a whole range of people experience both to varying degrees (32). Despite the study being nearly seventy years old, the existence of bisexuality is still hotly debated. The heterosexual/homosexual binary, like the male/female binary, is so deeply ingrained that kind of attraction outside of those strict boundaries is seen as false or a phase. According to Sue George, over the years bisexuality has been “regarded as negative, with connotations of vacillation, indecision, ‘sitting on the fence’, 35

‘having the best of both worlds’, transition, [and] hedonism” (101). A string of stereotypes follow bisexual people, making it difficult for them to “come out”, as gays and lesbians traditionally do. It is believed by some that because bisexuals are attracted to men and women, they must be attracted to ALL men and women; that bisexuals cannot be monogamous; and that to be bisexual, a person must be involved with a man and a woman at the same time (Macalister 30-31). Furthermore, there is the persistent belief that bisexuality cannot exist because your partner’s gender defines your sexual orientation: if you are with an individual of the opposite sex, you are straight; if you are with an individual of the same sex, you are gay (Daümer 157). As a queer woman with a male partner, I can attest to encountering people who hold this frustrating belief. Such stereotypes and the invalidation of identity that comes with them can be damaging to people who identify as bisexual. Writing about bisexual characters in fiction is one way to validate their experiences. However, portraying bisexuality in historical fiction – where you cannot draw upon the specific modern-day terminology without breaking the audience’s suspension of disbelief – can be tricky. One option would be to have the intrepid bisexual character speak candidly about a past sexual encounter with one gender while showing them to be in a relationship with another, but that could easily be superfluous to the text. Another option is to show their attraction to men and women throughout the course of the action – however, depending on the execution, that route could easily perpetuate stereotypes about bisexuality. Despite my concerns that I was walking into stereotype territory, rather than putting Anne’s relationship with Rackham into their backstories, I chose to feature it alongside Anne’s relationships with Mary. There was an adaptive rational here: that Anne Bonny and John Rackham were a couple is so taken for granted that to not depict together in any capacity would not make them Anne Bonny and John Rackham (see Chapter Four). However, I also knew I would need to separate Anne and Rackham as the last thing I wanted was to depict the non-monogamous stereotype associated with bisexuals. Non-monogamous and polyamorous relationships have a place and should absolutely be explored in fiction, but considering the context of my play, depicting a polyamorous relationship on a pirate ship felt like it would be overly sensational. Utilizing any traditional love triangle elements of engaging Anne, Mary and Rackham as a threesome felt cheap at best and titillating at worst. For example, I made the mistake of calling the Anne/Mary/Rackham relationship as a “queer love triangle” during callbacks out of a need to quickly define the dynamic. I was then treated to some off-hand, joking comments from a certain male auditionee about “girl-on-girl” action and Rackham 36 being a “poor guy” for “losing” his girlfriend to a woman. Still, considering the positive response to the play, reactions like this most likely come from a place of ignorance. When I told Natasha this story, she said, “People aren’t not ready for it, they’re just not used it to” (personal interview). Executing these relationships demanded care. I chose to portray Anne as genuinely attracted to both Rackham and Mary (which would not be such an unusual course of action had Mary been a man). However, having been built almost solely on desire and attraction, her relationship with Rackham is fractured—it cannot last. She is left unsatisfied by her position on the ship and hurt by his dismissive attitude towards her wants and needs; he is frustrated by her need to act out when she does not received enough attention. They fight, and it often ends badly. Despite how things may have been in the past, by the time they are introduced in the play, they are in a mutually destructive relationship based on using each other: Anne uses Rackham so she can keep the freedom she’s experienced on his crew; Rackham uses Anne as a way to bring attention to himself and his company. Courtney Charnock, the staged reading’s director, had a useful insight during rehearsals: Anne and Rackham are the type of couple who, when things are good, have things really good. But when things are bad, things are really bad. It is a relationship of extremes. Anne’s relationship with Mary is much healthier. It is not perfect, but I did want to show their friendship-turned-romantic relationship as something positive, based on mutual attraction and respect, that could last through even the greatest of trials. They challenge each other and support each other. However, Anne is a flawed individual—she is not faithful to Mary and eventually finds herself in sexual entanglement with Rackham. This is technically a stereotype of bisexuals (incapable of being monogamous, more inclined to be promiscuous), but people, regardless of orientation, cheat on their partners for a variety of reasons. Anne never denies that she still attracted to Rackham; she has a long history with him, and feelings towards previous sexual partners can last for a very long time. I subverted the non-monogamous bisexual trope by having Anne decisively break off her relationship near the end of Act 2 and own up to her mistakes in Act 3. I also emphasized that though Anne is bisexual, she is not sexually promiscuous (at least by modern day standards), hence the inclusion of this line: “I’ve only ever given myself to three people. James, Jack—and you. I suppose love is what makes a whore” (Act 3, Scene 4). This is also a response to editions of A General History that focus on Anne’s “lustful” behaviour. My interpretation of Anne loves, and loves deeply. Like real-life bisexual women, she should not be defined by who she has sex with or how many sexual partners she has. It is a trend in modern day society to label women as 37

“sluts” based on their appearance and sexual history; likewise, Anne is often called a “whore” in the play, a term she does not like and actively fights against. This was intended as a commentary on how insults towards women in English are closely associated with female sexuality. A sampling of the stories collected through Laura Bates’ Everyday Sexism Project—and online site where women across the globe can submit stories of the sexual harassment they experience on a daily basis—shows a consistent use of “slut”, “bitch”, “whore” and other degrading insults in verbal harassment (everydaysexism.com). Mary’s understanding of Anne’s bisexuality is coloured by the modern day lesbian community’s interaction with bisexual women. Many lesbians express fear and concern over dating bisexual women. Some are concerned that they are going to be “left for a man”; others find it distasteful to think that their potential female partner had sex with a man. Many believe that bisexual women exploit heterosexual privilege while gaining access to lesbian spaces (Daümer 156). In general, lesbian women have a tendency of showing great apathy towards bisexual women (Ault 172). While Mary does not express this apathy towards Anne, she does express concern over Anne’s relationship with Rackham. The betrayal she feels in Act 3 after she discovers Anne cheated on her and is pregnant with Rackham’s child runs deep because her fears were confirmed. Her reaction to this discovery is also linked to the 18th century phallocentric understanding of sexuality. Mary believes that because she is not a man, she is inadequate for Anne and incapable of satisfying her – something which Anne vehemently denies. This scenario also has a relation to modern day as lesbian sex is culturally viewed as being inferior to straight sex. Lesbians often have to contend with a male-centred view of what they should want sexually (Bronski et al. 110-111). As Mary never throws away her sailors’ clothes even after her identity is revealed, she falls into the trope of the desexualized butch lesbian. This trope depicts all masculine-looking lesbians as virtually sexless (114). However, there is a contextual reason for Mary mostly being disinterested in sex in Act 1 and Act 2: as a cross-dressed woman, sex was virtually off the table as she could not risk being discovered. I chose to leave Mary’s sexual history ambiguous. Many lesbians discover their identity through experimentation and, by the start of the play, Mary knows enough about herself to emphasize that she is not attracted to men. The anxiety that manifests after she and Anne consummate their relationship comes from her fear of any kind of close social contact (sexual or not). It is an integral part of her journey. She begins the play as a cold-hearted individual only 38 concerned about her personal survival; she ends it by having opened herself up to a friendship and love that makes her willing to do anything, not just for herself, but for her partner. In Act 3, Mary sexualizes herself in order to enact the plan that she believes will save her from execution. Her sexual relations with the warden have nothing to do with her sexual orientation and she approaches it almost in a business-like manner. Who you have sex with and the reasons why you do does not affect your orientation. Many lesbians have sex with men, sometimes before they come out or while they are in the process of coming out (111). A final crucial point to Anne and Mary’s relationship is the concept of family. Lesbian couples are often seen as being incapable of raising a family for a variety of reasons, primarily (1) two women are biologically incapable of having children together; and (2) LGBTQ individuals are considered to be a bad influence on children due to their sexual orientations (63; 67). According to Bronski et. Al, since the 1920s LGBTQ people have been “clearly defined as a group, and groups don’t raise children [and] they aren’t families” (66). However, LGBTQ parents are not automatically “bad” parents any more than heterosexual parents are automatically “good” parents. Anne and Mary have a difficult relationship with family. They are both illegitimate; they are both scarred by their parents’ actions (Mary’s mother dressed her as a boy; Anne’s father disowned her). The traditional family unit was either unavailable (in Mary’s case) or a failure (in Anne’s case). At the beginning of the play, Anne feels very negatively about family. She has experienced what it is like to be raised by an uncaring parent; she has given birth out of wedlock to a child she never wanted and abandoned him on Cuba, to be raised by another. Not wanting to follow her father’s example, she insists that “You shouldn’t keep a child you don’t want” (Act 1, Scene 5). Though she and Rackham are a couple who have a child, they are not a family. Anne’s attitude changes through her relationship with Mary and, by extension, the crew. Pirate crews emphasized brotherhood, and Rackham’s company emulates, at times, a found family (particularly with Harwood, who is the “kid” of the group, who is looked after by his adoptive father’s friends after he dies). Once Anne gains a certain level of respect from the crew, and Mary opens up and achieves emotional growth, both women find themselves engaged in a certain family- like relationship to the company. Vanessa echoed the idea of family: “The play for me [was about] family and how people became family to Mary. She obviously had this huge wall up at the beginning and you see her […] start to really care and show herself and find freedom within that” (personal 39 interview). The theme of family – specifically found family – is further echoed through the crew’s history-based positioning as having no direct family (see Chapter One). The idea of family becomes concrete in Act 3. In the penultimate scene, Anne and Mary are in their cell and are visibly pregnant. Throughout the play, both women have shared in an evolving dream about themselves remaining at sea. The dream, in its Act 2 formation, is about Anne and Mary obtaining a ship of their own. In Act 3, the dream changes. Despite the challenges they have faced, Anne and Mary are still a unit. At Mary’s prompting, Anne considers what she is going to do when she is released from prison. At first, she can still see her and Mary with a ship of their own— but then, slowly, she comes to a realization that it could be the two of them on their ship with two daughters. A family. Anne can envision with Mary what she rejected with Rackham. During rehearsals, Courtney had an insight that was invaluable to the progression of this scene: she shared her belief that sometimes you do not want children until you meet a person with whom you can imagine yourself having a family. I believe this is true for Anne and Mary. Contrary to the idea that queer women cannot be parents, Anne can see herself forming a family with Mary. Mary doesn’t speak in that moment, but I believe she can see it, too—and then she dies. Though the dream is ultimately unattainable due to Mary’s death, it causes Anne to accept her responsibilities. In her final speech, as she is surrounded by the ghosts of the company, Anne relates that she will raise her children with the knowledge of their actions. Because of Mary—her lover, her partner—Anne can finally accept that she does have a family.

40

CHAPTER FOUR Navigating Adaptation

As seen in previous chapters, historical documents served as the main inspiration for Weather the Storm. Specifically, “The Tryals of Captain John Rackham” acted as the main source for the exploits of Rackham’s crew and their ultimate fate; A General History aided in colouring Anne and Mary’s backstories and choosing significant moments not related by the trial documents. Unlike “Tryals” and other sources, Anne Bonny and Mary Read’s biographies in A General History cannot be taken as straight fact. The book provides such lavish personal histories for Bonny and Read that they seem implausible, though Johnson insists on their truth as the stories are “supported by many thousand Witnesses […] who were present at [the women’s] Tryals, and heard the story of their Lives” (116). However, none of his claims can be verified. With that in mind, Weather the Storm became an adaptation of both history and fiction. The task was challenging. For one, the events of historical figures’ lives do not always form a cohesive narrative. For another, the wealth of available source material often creates enough “story” in the story to cover a whole cycle of plays. Furthermore, some source material (like A General History) is coloured by the author’s biases and perspectives, which can conflict with the theme and perspectives of the play inspired by it. Considering these challenges, it was necessary to establish several guiding principles on how I was going to adapt the source material. Additionally, the development process was crucial, as the current version of the script is the product of months of trial and error, editing and re-writes.

4.1. Guiding Principles The first principle was to adapt recognizable events as key points. There are events in a historical figure’s life that makes their story immediately recognizable as theirs. Take Anne Boleyn for instance: her iconic status as Henry VIII’s second wife and her execution are typically featured in fiction where she is a leading character. Without recognizable events, the story does not feel like a story about a historical figure, but rather a fictional character in a period piece that bears their name. The protagonist of Anne of the Indies (1951) is an example, as the film’s protagonist was named after Anne Bonny, but bears no resemblance to historical woman (Richards 261). This principle is also behind my decision to establish Anne as Rackham’s mistress, a recognizable trait of her character across adaptations. 41

The second principle (and perhaps the most important one for me) was to reject or reconstruct any source material that was at odds with the feminist and queer perspectives I was employing. This rule often caused my choices around plot and character to act as a response to both Bonny and Read’s biographies in A General History and their adaptations. In most stories about pirate women, the heroine’s deviant actions can usually only be celebrated because such actions are later tempered by her returning to traditional female roles. As Wheelwright maintains, in fiction the female pirate “might behave like a man, but is eventually revealed as a perfectly feminine woman who falls in love, marries, bears children and makes willing sacrifices for her man […] [Her] presence has no lasting effect” (178). For example, this sentiment is echoed in film adaptations. Bonny and Read inspired the stock female pirate character in Hollywood swashbucklers: a ferocious young woman who is eventually “tamed” by the romantic male hero, as seen in The (1945) and Anne of the Indies (1951) (Richards 232). In Mary Read, Mary is overjoyed when her lover finds her aboard Rackham’s ship, immediately promising to leave and marry him. In a line very telling of the play’s 1933 origins, she tells him, “You can do what you like with me, for I’m only a poor, weak woman” (90). The third principle was to relegate any source material that inflated the action to backstory or to cut it altogether. There is simply too much to dramatize, as the source material covers years (additionally, turning Bonny and Read’s biographies from A General History into a play was the concept behind The Women Pirates (Gooch i)). Even if I chose to focus solely on known events from “Tryals”, there was still a wealth of material to cover. I had to choose what was important to understanding the characters and let go of the rest.

4.2. The History in the Fiction In adapting the source material, I had to settle on a structure that reflected the kind of story I wanted to depict. Many plays utilize a structure originating in Aristotle’s’ writings on tragedy in The Poetics where the narrative “neither [begins] nor [ends] at haphazard” (38): it has a clear beginning, middle and end that form a tightly-linked chain of events. My first attempt at writing this play kept the action contained to the prison cell and the drama unfolding around the trial. The action was to escalate towards a failed escape attempt and Anne and Mary’s decision to plead their bellies at trial. I ultimately found this direction unsatisfying and decided to start further back in the story so the prison could become a final destination. 42

In searching for a new point of attack, I had to consider different structures. In his plays and theories on epic theatre (adapted from writings by Aristotle on epic structure), Bertolt Brecht utilized episodic structures which featured a series of individual scenes linked together by character, setting or theme (111). I was drawn towards an episodic structure as it fits well with the rambling nature of the source material. However, I still wanted the dramatic satisfaction of pushing the narrative towards climactic moments. I found myself searching through the source material to find three key moments to work towards. These moments had to be significant to both Anne and Mary, and they had to cause such a major shift in the status quo that there would be no returning to how matters had been. I chose the revelation of Mary’s gender, the capture of Rackham’s company at Negril Bay, and Anne and Mary pleading their bellies at the end of their trial. These moments became the deciding factor behind the play’s three act structure, with each act functioning almost like a smaller play that had its own climax. Mary Read’s identity is not touched upon by “Tryals” or other similar documents. As such, the moment in the play is adapted from A General History. In Johnson’s book, the moment is surprisingly understated, summing it up within a short paragraph. When Read joins the ship disguised as a man, her identity is suspected by no one. Thinking Read to be a man, Bonny, who is also disguised, takes a to her, reveals she is a woman and attempts to seduce her. Read, “being very sensible of her own Incapacity that way”, is forced to reveal that she is a woman, “so to the great Disappointment of Anne Bonny” (162). Jealous of Bonny and Read’s apparent intimacy, Rackham threatens to slit Read’s throat. To prevent the situation from escalating further, Bonny tells him the truth of the matter. In adapting this moment, I split it in two so that Rackham’s discovery of Mary’s identity could come at the climax of Act 1. This choice also gave Anne and Mary time to establish a connection and a growing friendship. In early versions, I had originally intended to show Anne masquerading as a young man named Fulford, the last name associated with the real Anne Bonny in Woodes Rogers’ proclamation of arrest (Cordingly, Women, 83). However, this created an issue: if Anne was also disguised as a man, then she, too, eventually needed to reveal herself. The duplication of similar events felt unnecessary and dramatically unsound. Anne Bonny’s seduction of Mary Read in the source material has always troubled me, particularly Johnson’s emphasis on Read’s “incapacity” and Bonny’s “disappointment”. The “incapacity” directly links back to the phallocentric ideas about sex exhibited in the 18th century (as 43 discussed in Chapter Three): Bonny is disappointed by Read’s identity because a woman cannot successfully pleasure another woman. By depicting Anne and Mary as bisexual and lesbian women, respectively, this portrayal was thrown out the window (Act 1, Scene 5). I emphasized a mutual attraction between the two, even before Anne knows that Mary is a woman. Neither is trying to seduce the other outright, but rather their first kiss comes after a moment of understanding, where they have each shared an intimate piece of personal information with the other. The moment of revelation is an accident, rather than outright seduction. Instead of Anne taking the revelation with disappointment, I focused on Anne’s excitement that she has found someone just like her in the least likely of places, thus bringing them closer together. Later in the scene, I did not want Anne to struggle with the fact that she had kissed a woman. As the play attempts to normalize queer relationships, I did not want to include either woman struggling with her sexuality, or “coming out”, so to speak – both are confidant and comfortable in their sexual identities. Despite Johnson’s strong language, Rackham’s jealousy over Bonny and Read’s relationship is summed up and dealt with in one sentence. I did not want to execute that moment as a scene solely between Anne and Rackham, as it is in A General History. To increase the risk, Rackham threatens to kill Mary (whom he believed to be a man) in front of the whole crew, moving it from something that only affects Anne, Mary and Rackham to something that affects their ship’s community. I originally had Mary take control of the situation and confess her identity herself; however, as the crew moved on to questioning Mary, Anne was forced out of the equation and became almost silent. To restore Anne’s presence to the scene, I gave the revelation of Mary’s gender to Anne, who shouts that Mary is a woman in a desperate attempt to save Mary’s life. Though Mary is the one who negotiates her way about of being marooned and trades it in for a lashing, it is Anne who is ultimately haunted by the scars on Mary’s back (Act 2, Scene 3). Mary’s punishment for hiding her identity is fictitious, though not entirely implausible (as discussed in Chapter Two). The capture of Rackham’s company at Negril Bay is detailed through the trial records and accounts from sailors aboard Captain ’s ship who were present at the time. Nicholas Lawes, who had been informed of Rackham’s activities, had dispatched Barnet with a commission to hunt down pirates. Barnet found the company in Negril Bay. The pirates were celebrating and had not taken notice as Barnet sailed into the bay. By ten o’clock, Barnet was close enough to hail them. He did so, asking them to identify themselves (Woodard 319). Rackham replied with “John Rackham from Cuba” (Cordingly, Women, 85). Barnet ordered him to strike the colours of the King 44 of England, to which someone aboard the William responded, “We will strike no strikes” (Woodard 319). Barnet attacked, hitting them with a broadside, which destroyed their boom. With their ship disabled, there was no escape. As Barnet’s men boarded the ship, Rackham and the crew fled into the hold, leaving Bonny and Read above (Cordingly, Women, 85). They were the only ones to put up any kind of resistance. Read is said to have called out to the fleeing crew and, when they gave her no answer, “fire her Arms down in the Hold amongst them, killing one, and wounding others” (AGH 119). After their capture, Barnet took the company to the local militia officer, who sent them to Spanish Town (Woodard 319). These details were much stricter in their adaptation as I wanted to reflect the historical account of their capture. Thus, the drinking, the response to the Barnet’s hail, and the destruction of their ship’s boom were all represented. The final image of Act 2 is Anne and Mary standing back-to- back, surrounded by the fallen blades of their comrades, as Rackham’s banner falls upon them. This visual and the accompanying dialogue are related to Johnson’s suggestion that Anne and Mary made their final stand together against Barnet’s men. I did not adapt the story of Mary firing upon and killing one of their crew members as it would have cheapened the effect of the execution sequence in Act 3. Prior to his execution, Anne Bonny is reputed to have told Rackham “that she was sorry to see him there, but if he had fought like a Man, he need not have been hang’d like a Dog” (AGH 173). As these words come from A General History, it is unknown whether she did say them or not; regardless, they carry such an intensity that I felt compelled to utilize them in the script. Anne Bonny and Mary Read pleading their bellies at trial is historical fact. The trial documents relate that before Nicholas Lawes delivered their sentence, he asked them if they had “any Thing to say, or offer Why Sentence of Death should not pass upon them, for their said Offenses?” (29). The women remained silent, then judgement was pronounced and then “both Prisoners inform’d the Court that they were both quick with Child, and prayed that Execution of the Sentence might be stayed” (29). Following this, the court ordered that their sentence should be respited and an inspection carried out. As remarked upon in Chapter Two, Bonny and Read likely did not receive an inspection. Read died in prison, most likely due to complications after contracting a fever related to her pregnancy. She was buried in the district of St. Catherine, Jamaica, on April 28, 1721 (Women, 86). It is unknown what happened to Anne. A General History records that she stayed in prison until she gave birth, after which she was reprieved. Johnson did not know what became of her afterwards, other than that “she was not executed” (173). Cordingly speculates that Bonny’s 45 father convinced the British authorities in Jamaica to release her. He took her back Charleston and married her off to a respectable local man, with whom she had eight more children. Cormac also recovered Bonny and Rackham’s lost son from Cuba and brought him back to her. Anne lived to a very old age and died in 1782 (Cordingly, Women, 87). Neil Rennie refutes this speculation as Cordingly’s evidence is in “family papers in the collection of descendants” and are not available for assessment (267). Furthermore, “William Cormac”, the name attributed to Anne’s father, was likely not the name of the real man at all. It first appears in novelist John Carlova’s book Mistress of the Seas and, as Rennie argues, was later adopted as historical fact (267). Despite this, I borrowed the name “William Cormac” for Anne’s father simply because I liked the hard consonants in the surname. The trial scenes and outcome in Act 3 are, again, fairly straightforward adaptations of the historical documents. Mary’s death was always going to be the outcome of her character arc – she finally found herself in a situation from which she could not negotiate an escape. Anne’s ending was more complex. I took inspiration from Cordingly’s speculations – if her father truly was a lawyer, then it is plausible that she was bailed out and that is why there are no remaining records for her. Lawes’ final monologue is a letter to Anne’s father, negotiating her release from prison and emphasize that Anne should be married off, which links to Cordingly’s speculations that she was married and spent the rest of her life as a housewife. However, had I left it there, I would have fallen into Wheelwright’s definition of the traditional ending for a female pirate narrative. Anne’s final monologue, therefore, contradicts Lawes’ expectations. She speaks of how she found the ship Mary dreamed out; it is implied that she visits it (or even sails on it) often. While she is as a mother, she became a mother through accident. Earlier in the play, I emphasized how much motherhood terrifies her and how she never wanted children, but, in the end, she owns up to her responsibility and chooses to raise her children herself. There is purposefully no mention of whether Anne married or not. Rather, the final image is of her standing among the ghosts of Mary, Rackham and the company – the very people who impacted and shaped her life (Courtney affectionately dubbed this as “pirate heaven”). I cherry-picked much of Anne and Mary’s backstories from A General History. Anne was much more straightforward – her origin as the illegitimate daughter of an Irish lawyer contrasts well with Mary’s origin as the illegitimate daughter of a single, working-class mother. A major shift in Anne’s backstory came with the way I utilized James Bonny. Johnson says nothing of his character 46 other than “[he] was not worth a Groat” (172). As I found multiple adaptations vilified James Bonny (portraying him anywhere from a buffoonish fool to sexually abusing Anne), I chose to have Anne remember him fondly – their romance is a fairy tale gone wrong (he dies soon after they’re married). As a consequence Anne is left with an intense fear of abandonment, which emerges in Act 3. Another significant moment in Anne’s backstory is her first pregnancy. In A General History, Johnson writes that Rackham left Bonny on Cuba after she became pregnant and that after she gave birth, he sent for her and she rejoined his company (172). In the play, Anne suffers long-lasting effects from both her pregnancy and being left on Cuba. Her and Rackham’s first child is becomes a significant point of contention between them, she is terrified he is going to leave her again, and her first pregnancy causes her to have an intense fear of being pregnant. I threw away most of Mary’s history from A General History as it did not work in the context of her being a lesbian. I also wanted her to play a more active role in her backstory. In Johnson’s text, Mary’s mother dresses up as her deceased brother in order to swindle money out of the brother’s grandmother (158). In the play, Mary has a hand in her brother’s death – she kills him out of self-defence and her mother dresses her as him so she can find work and an income. Johnson also relates how, when serving in a military regiment, she falls in love with a Flemish solider, with whom she shares a tent. She reveals her identity to him, they leave the military and get married, although he dies some time later (159). Considering the violence with which cross-dressed women were treated, Johnson’s writings make Mary’s revelation feel like something out of a comedy along the lines of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. In the play, this soldier is remembered by Mary as the only friend she ever had. He attempted to kill her after she revealed her identity and, while protecting herself, she killed him. Incidents like this help establish Mary as a survivalist, a crucial part of her character. Once aboard Rackham’s ship, Johnson gives Read a second love interest – a sailor captured during one of their attacks, with whom Read falls instantaneously in love. After revealing her gender, the sailor falls in love with her and Read insists that they “[apply] their Troth to each other”, becoming married “in Conscience” (164). This sailor is said to be the father of the child for whom Read pleads her belly. Johnson’s insistence on Read being married is reminiscent of Wheelwright’s analysis of narratives about pirate women—in order to make their behaviour palatable for readers, they must also become married and have children. By depicting Mary as a lesbian in my play, I intentionally push back against this traditional narrative. Mary’s child does not come from positioning her in traditional female roles, either – she impregnates herself as a means to survive. 47

There are several moments, plot points and dialogue that echo the historical documents. The incident at Harbour Island (Act 1, Scene 6) was inspired by a note in Johnson’s entry on Rackham. Sometime prior to sailing with Bonny and Read, he took his company to Cuba to repair their ship. They were spotted by the Spanish man-of-war, which had a captured English sloop in tow. The pirates had no choice but to swim to shore and hide while the Spanish destroyed the empty ship. The following day, the company stole the captured English sloop and sailed away with it; the Spanish could not stop them as they had already fired all their shots (151-152). Rackham and his company did steal the William from Nassau on August 22, 1720, an act that brought them significant attention. On September 1, they plundered the village of Harbour Island, taking fishing gear and provisions from seven local fishing boats. Afterwards, the company made its way through the Bahamas, pillaging what they could (Cordingly, Women, 83). These acts are depicted in Act 2, Scene 3. Cordingly calls Rackham’s behaviour “reckless” (Under 57) as he was plundering waters patrolled by the British navy and scouted by pirate hunters. This is conjecture on my part, but considering that would sometimes raid or attack out of revenge, I used it to justify Rackham’s reckless behaviour in the play. Thomas Dillon, Thomas Spenlow and Dorothy Thomas were all attacked by Rackham’s company. Spenlow was attacked at Port Maria on October 19 and held hostage for two days (84). In the play, his kidnapping and interrogation was framed as the way Rackham discovered the location of Thomas Dillon’s ship (Act 2, Scene 7). Historically, Dillon’s ship was attacked the day after Spenlow’s at Dry Harbour (Woodard 318), but in the play the company sits and waits for the Mary & Sarah for over a week to increase tension between Rackham and the crew. During the attack on Dillon’s ship, one of the company did shout that they were “English pirates” (Cordingly, Women, 84), which is represented in the script (Act 2, Scene 8). Dorothy Thomas was their last victim. She was attacked sometime in early November while in a dugout canoe. The pirates made off with her fishing gear and provisions (84). In the play, Thomas is referenced as “that fisherwoman” (Act 2, Scene 10). Lawes references the historical acts of violence committed by Rackham’s crew in Act 2, Scene 1.

4.3. Play Development The development process for Weather the Storm was long and intensive. This was partially because while I knew what story I wanted to tell, I could not decide on how I was going to tell it. This does 48 not surprise me as I usually struggle the most with writing the first complete draft. I am not the kind of writer who can push through the muck. If my gut instinct that says that something is in the wrong style or the play is taking the wrong direction and if I have a potential solution, I am more likely to scrap what I have and start over than continue with a direction I dislike. This process leads to a lot of experimentation, partial drafts of scenes and acts, and re-writes. Prior to beginning my MFA, I wrote two plays that involved a workshop process as part of their development. The workshops were based on running improvised scenarios that developed the characters, their relationships, their backstories and their ability to navigate various situations I wanted to explore. Overall, these workshops have been very useful to me in the past, although that was partially thanks to the workshops actors and the cast being one and the same. Feeling lost in the source material for Weather the Storm and finding myself unable to choose a direction and stick with it, I employed a series of development workshops throughout Winter term 2015. For two hours once a week, I met with three undergraduate acting students and ran various scenarios, tried out different angles and played with style. I am very grateful to Kelcey Leavitt, Myah Van Horn and Ben Jones for graciously volunteering their time, energy, thoughts and opinions. Though in the end the workshops were more an exercise in “what not do to”, they were immensely helpful in establishing key elements of the play. The workshops clarified that I did not want to keep the action confined to Anne and Mary’s prison cell and, instead, invest in the world of 18th century piracy. They also established that I needed an ensemble to help create that world on stage and provide shifting dynamics within Rackham’s crew. The ensemble became Corner, Featherstone and Harwood. It was a choice I felt very strongly about. Though it expanded the cast size significantly, they felt necessary in order to depict the world of the play and to challenge Anne and Mary (Rackham could not be the only source of conflict). As the play progressed, the crew became essential to the dynamic. When I asked Natasha about the crew’s inclusion, she said “They do have their own pull and their own drive and impact” (personal interview). Throughout Fall term 2016, I organized several informal readings of scenes and acts. I was still playing with style and I was concerned about the execution of moments that featured violence and sexuality. I wanted to hear the work as much as possible, as it helped clarify what worked and what didn’t. During this period, I added Lawes. Prior to Lawes, the voice of the British government was absent. I attempted to show the outside pressure faced by the pirates through dialogue, but 49 something felt missing. Going back to older drafts, I realized that I had utilized Anne and Mary’s trial as a framing device. It featured a “judge”. The scene, and thus the judge, was cut in an effort to condense the cast. However, I found the opening image of the women being placed on trial so powerful that I felt I had to put it back into the script. After doing some research on the actual judge, I felt I could utilize Lawes as a way to successfully indicate how feared the main characters were and how their time was running out. Natasha and Vanessa were both present as readers during this stage of development, and saw versions of the script that both included and did not include Lawes. Of the character, Vanessa commented, “I think that [Lawes] added this whole layer of context and something to push the stakes higher” (personal interview). This was exactly my intention. As an extension of Lawes’ incorporation, I reinstated my original framing device. Weather the Storm went into rehearsals the first week of March, under the direction of Courtney Charnock. The script went through crucial weekly revisions throughout the rehearsal process. The re-writes were extensive and came from a combination of notes I received from my supervisor, Clem Martini; thoughts and realizations that came from rehearsal; and my own list of problem spots I was trying to iron out. As part of the rehearsal process, Courtney employed a series of various exercises that assisted the actors with deepening their understanding of the characters. These exercises were useful to me as well: they helped me to see varying perspectives on the characters, aiding me in pinpointing and adjusting weak sections in individual characterizations and character arcs. Though I did not find myself adjusting the script to capitalize on certain actors’ strengths, I did highly value the cast’s thoughts and opinions along with Courtney’s. As actors, the cast inhabited the characters in a way I, as a writer, did not. Their insights were invaluable. The approach to the staged reading was unconventional. Personally, I feel that traditional staged readings that are stripped to the barest of essentials lack the ability to demonstrate how an untested new work can live and breathe as a work being performed in a theatre space. As the energy, intensity and physical nature of the play fell flat, Courtney chose to stylize the reading. In order to spatially show the difference in status and power between Lawes and the company, she placed Christopher Hunt up high in the audience so Lawes could literally talk down upon the company. Courtney also utilized paper (throwing, crumping, ripping) as an extension of the characters’ physical and emotional states. This was used to great effect, particularly when a character’s death was symbolized by the ripping of paper. Having been de-sensitized to dark moments after spending so much time with them during the writing process, the unconventional staging allowed me to 50 experience them in a new way. I found that the play was both darker and funnier than I thought it to be, and the staging reacquainted me with its emotional intensity.

51

CONCLUSION

The response to Weather the Storm was incredible. Overall, it seemed to strike a strong emotional cord with many audience members. There were people who laughed, people who cried, and people who gasped in shock. There were people who expressed surprise at the angle the play took: a group of students from DRAM 205 told me that they thought they knew what to expect because it was a story about pirates, but in the end they “didn’t see any of it coming.” After the second reading, another group of students expressed surprise that all of the characters were real people and that the play was adapted from history. With those responses in mind, I believe I was successful in my aim to reconstruct women’s history on stage and introduce audience members to a potentially unfamiliar area of history. Informed by history, the world of the play was engaging and plausible to the audience and did not feel like a history lesson. When adapting history into fiction, I think it is very easy to have the history distract from the characters. The history can become seductive and, as a result, the play becomes about interesting facts and events rather than the individual journeys of the characters on stage. At the beginning, I found it very difficult to plot the play because I was researching while writing. Not a week would go by that I did not uncover something in my sources that either contradicted my approach to a scene or taught me a historical fact that I felt compelled to include. For example, some early drafts of the scene where Mary joins the company featured Rackham’s backstory quite heavily. At the time, I was entranced by Charles Vane. While Vane is an interesting (and terrifying) figure from 18th century pirate history, I was giving him far too much importance and weight for a character who was never going to show up in the text. Eventually, he became a footnote, mentioned by Anne in passing as the pirate captain Rackham successfully mutinied. In adapting the source material, I had to focus on facts and events that directly related to Anne and Mary. Anything else became secondary or was cut, particularly if it needed a large amount of stage time to adapt (such as the multi-lingual aspects of pirate communities or pirates’ treatment of black slaves). There came a point in the development process where I had to force myself to stop researching. I was becoming consumed by research and “cool” is not a good enough reason to employ a specific element in a play. The process then became about taking what I had learned and using it to support the story and characters I was creating: that is what makes historical fiction fiction. Works inspired by history are not history lessons. They seek to portray history in an 52 engaging and compelling way that encourages audiences to either reflect upon themselves or the issues and concerns of present day. Similar to science fiction and fantasy, I believe historical fiction can reframe important social and political concerns in a way that makes them engaging and palatable to audiences. Perhaps that is why the nature of Anne and Mary’s relationship was so important: the history of the setting provided a distance so that the nature of bisexuality and lesbianism could be viewed in a new light by audiences unused to seeing such relationships. Throughout the play’s development, I was concerned about how Anne and Mary’s relationship could potentially be misconstrued by the audience and found to be laughable, sensational or implausible. I was also concerned that despite my goal to write a genuine depiction of romantic love between women, I would unconsciously fall into harmful tropes and stereotypes. I do not believe that I was the case. Mid-way through the process, James Wade (who is also completing an MFA in Playwriting) praised the execution of Anne and Mary’s relationship, emphasizing that Anne’s sexual fluidity was something rare and refreshing to experience. Several times I had cast and audience members emphasize the importance of seeing the experiences of sexual minorities – particularly those who go under-represented – presented on stage. With increased visibility comes increased understanding and acceptance. Natasha told me that she was grateful that the play was available for a friend unfamiliar with LGBTQ experiences to watch: “[…] the fact that Anne and Mary’s relationship expanded her knowledge, even incrementally, was a huge thing” (personal interview). Considering responses like this, I believe the play was successful at its most crucial element: a genuine portrayal of sexuality that normalizes the existence of bisexual and lesbian women. The number of people who have told me that they are still thinking about the play and its elements means that I was able to start a conversation, and for that I am immensely grateful. Weather the Storm has been my most challenging play to date. Merging history with fiction, including a queer relationship and emphasizing an environment founded in historical research was a lot to balance. I have written a historical piece before (an adaptation of Robin Hood), but as it was a children’s play and its source material is entirely fictional, the research and writing process was not as intense. This is my longest play – all of my prior plays have been under 75 minutes (save for an adaptation of Nikolai Erdman’s The Suicide, which I co-wrote with Gyllian Raby at Brock University). I intended Weather the Storm to be long as I wanted to experience working with a three- act structure. I found it challenging to keep the focus and the drive of the play alive, particularly with 53 so much material to cover. I was constantly falling into the pitfall of inflating the plot with unnecessary filler. I enjoy all of the characters and I enjoy writing them; however, my compulsion to write banter leads to too much talking and not enough action. Stylistically the play is a departure from how I usually write, specifically in the inclusion of monologues (which separated a character from the others, becoming a Shakespearean-like soliloquy that was one-on-one with the audience) and stylized moments that depicted “action” sequences. I have played with monologues before, but not to this extent. My pre-thesis work, Polonius and His Children, featured monologues from its three principal characters where they confided something in the audience that they could not tell each other. Intrigued by that form, I wanted to continue testing it. One version of Weather the Storm had monologues from all of the characters dotted throughout each act, but it greatly impeded the action. The play became an exercise in when and where to use monologues to their greatest effect. The stylized moments were the greatest departure. As mentioned elsewhere, they were developed over a period of time. Originally, the style came from an interplay between Anne and Mary that related their backstories to the audience. I later dropped that idea and transformed it into a useful technique to communicate moments of warfare. I admit I was heavily influenced by Lin- Manuel Miranda’s period musical Hamilton. Despite the difference in form, the musical numbers dealing with battle were helpful in discerning how to communicate an even like that through words. Weather the Storm is not a perfect play. Part of the challenge of writing this play was the amount of re-writes and edits involved in attempting to achieve the best version I could. I have never spent as many cumulative hours working on a play. Throughout March I was re-writing material right up to a few hours before rehearsal, then rushing off to print it for the cast. There is still work to be done (particularly in the execution of Act 2). The cast size was challenging as even the secondary characters – who were crucial to building a sense of the environment – had backstories to be hinted at and contributions to make so there was purpose to their inclusion. I believe Act 2 needs a stronger drive, a cleaner execution of Anne’s rise to power as quartermaster, and a clearer depiction of Rackham’s character arc in relation to Anne and Mary’s. However, imperfection is part of the writing process. Perfection is impractical – what works for one audience member may not work for another. The most I can do is write to the best of my ability at a given moment. I believe I accomplished that. 54

I set out to create a play that blended history, gender and sexuality, tested my abilities as a writer and engaged the audience. I think my efforts on Weather the Storm resulted in a play that is an entertaining, emotional ride that defies what people come to expect from pirate fiction. It openly highlights a romance between women, colours itself with an interesting chapter of history, and provides a plausible, fictive depiction of the lives of Anne Bonny and Mary Read.

55

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Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the subversion of identity. 10th anniversary ed. New York: Routledge, 2002.

Cooper, David, Derek B. Scott and Stan Hawkins. Musical Traditions of Northern Ireland and its Diaspora. Farnham: Ashgate Publishing, 2013. Print. 56

Cordingly, David. Under the Black Flag: The Romance and the Reality of Life Among the Pirates. New York: Random House, 1996. Print.

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Johnson, Charles. A General History of the Pyrates, from their First Rise and Settlement in the Island of Providence, to the Present Time. London: 1724. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. 4 April 2016. Web.

Jennings, Rebecca. A Lesbian History of Britain: Love and Sex between Women since 1500. Oxford: Greenwood World Publishing, 2007. Print.

Jetté, Vanessa. Personal interview. 16 May 2016. 57

Kinsey, Alfred C., Wardell B. Pomeroy and Clyde E. Martin. “Extracts from Sexual Behaviour in the Human Male (1948). Bisexuality: A Critical Reader. Ed. Merl Storr. London: Routledge, 1999. 31-37. Print.

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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. Dir. Gore Verbinski. Perf. Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush, Orlando Bloom, and Keira Knightley. Walt Disney Pictures, 2003. Film.

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Wheelwright, Julie. Amazons and Military Maids: Women Who Dressed as Men in Pursuit of Life, Liberty and Happiness. London: Pandora, 1989. Print.

---. “Tars, Tarts and Swashbucklers.” Bold in Her Breeches: Women Pirates Across the Ages. Ed. Jo Stanley. London: Pandora, 1995. 176-200. Print.

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APPENDIX A Weather the Storm

CAST OF CHARACTERS

ANNE BONNY Rackham’s mistress. Late teens. Irish. MARY READ A British privateer. Late twenties. English. JACK RACKHAM Pirate captain. Late twenties. English. RICHARD CORNER Quartermaster of Rackham’s crew. Mid-twenties. Irish. GEORGE FEATHERSTONE A sailor in Rackham’s crew. Mid-twenties. English. NOAH HARWOOD A sailor in Rackham’s crew. Mid-teens. English. SIR NICHOLAS LAWES Governor of Jamaica. Late sixties. English.

SCENE

The Caribbean, between April 1720 and April 1721.

SET AND MUSIC

As the play shifts from several different locations (including ship decks, prison cells, a court of law, etc.), I would suggest to avoid a naturalistic set and instead use lighting and sound to create a sense of the various environments the characters move through. A soundscape can run throughout the entire play. The songs sung by the company are a mixture of traditional Irish and English folk songs and sea shanties.

NOTES ON THE TEXT

Unless otherwise indicated, CREW refers to Corner, Featherstone and Harwood as one. COMPANY refers to Anne, Mary, Rackham, Corner, Featherstone and Harwood, as one.

A / indicates moments when a line is interrupted by the line that follows it. In certain moments, it also indicates that two characters speak a line at the same time.

If a character’s line is marked with (continuing), the line flows directly from the character’s previous line without stopping.

“As to the Lives of our two female Pyrates, we must confess they may appear a little Extravagant, yet they are never the less true for seeming so…” – , A General History of the Pyrates, 1724.

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ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

November 28, 1720. At first – darkness. Ocean waves. Seagulls. A light on ANNE. A light on MARY. The women are dressed in sailors’ clothes. They look at each other, waiting. The voice of SIR NICHOLAS LAWES rises out of the darkness, slowly drowning out the ocean waves and the gulls.

LAWES: Anne Bonny and Mary Read. You stand here today before the Admiralty Court of Jamaica, where you are accused of crimes willfully committed against the British crown.

A CROWD – invisible to the audience – yells. (“Murderers!” “Hang them!” “Let them rot!” etc.)

As you were willfully served amongst the crew of one Captain John Rackham, late of Providence, you will face the same charges as he and his company. Such crimes being theft, arson, assault and piracy.

Though the circumstances of this trial are unconventional, have it be known that under no circumstances will these egregious crimes be tolerated in the realm of His Majesty, King George I, regardless of the sex of the accused—

The CROWD interrupts, shouting and jeering. LAWES gestures for silence.

It is my duty to hear you plead your case and provide judgement. Should you be found guilty, the punishment is death.

Have you anything to say?

ANNE and MARY look at each other. They remain silent.

Then we shall begin. How do the defendants plead?

ANNE/MARY: Not guilty.

SCENE TWO

April 1720. Off the coast of Abaco Island, the Bahama Islands. Cannon and gunfire. Shouts and screams are underscored by the sound of clashing swords. A British vessel has been taken captive by the pirate crew of the Duchess. JACK RACKHAM enters with two of his crew members: GEORGE FEATHERSTONE and NOAH HARWOOD.

61

These are not handsome, dashing men. Despite their youth and vitality, they are scarred with the marks of cuts, burns and disease, accumulated over years at sea. RACKHAM is immediately recognizable as the captain, as he is dressed more richly and colourfully than the rest.

Armed with cutlasses and pistols, they are flushed with victory.

RACKHAM: The ship is ours, lads! Take everything that’s not bolted down. We’ll feast and drink tonight!

FEATHERSTONE and HARWOOD roar in agreement, and proceed to loot the ship. RICHARD CORNER, the final member of the company, enters, dragging a captive MARY. MARY’S hands are bound with rope.

Though MARY is dressed in sailors’ clothes, something about her physicality indicates that she has disguised herself as a man. She passes so well, her true identity is completely hidden under years of practice and persistence.

CORNER: This here’s the one you want!

CORNER throws down a struggling MARY, who lands hard on the deck.

CORNER: Caught him trying to make a run for it. Gave me some bloody trouble for it, too.

RACKHAM: (to MARY) What’s your name, lad?

MARY spits at him.

RACKHAM: Ah. Quite the wordsmith, I see.

HARWOOD: Why waste your time with that one, Captain? We should send him off, like we did with the rest of his measly crew!

FEATHERSTONE: And if he does make it back to Nassau… well, someone has to remind those bastards they don’t own these waters.

ANNE enters. She is also armed with a .

ANNE: Or you could just kill him.

MARY: You’ve killed my captain, marooned my crew and you’re looting my vessel – what more do you want?

RACKHAM: That, my friend, is a very good question.

62

MARY: Get off my fucking ship!

ANNE: Boy, you’re talking to Captain Jack Rackham. This is the man who marooned Charles Vane, took command of his ship and then attacked a French frigate. I wouldn’t make him angry.

MARY: Who’s the girl?

ANNE: Anne Bonny. Who’re you?

MARY: Not your concern. (to RACKHAM) Are you always foolish enough to sail with women onboard?

RACKHAM: What you call “foolish”, I like to see as “satisfying.” (calling to the CREW) What are you lot standing around for? Back to work, this ship won’t loot itself!

The CREW resumes their work. MARY covertly fiddles with her bonds.

RACKHAM: (to ANNE) You didn’t stay on the ship.

ANNE: Why would I ever let you have all the fun?

MARY: Captain Rackham—say what you have to say to me.

RACKHAM: It’s quite simple. I want a sailing master. My last one recently perished, and like most things in this world, if you don’t have what you need, take it from someone who does. (pause) I hear you’ve got the talent.

MARY: I don’t.

RACKHAM: Your captain quite eagerly told us that one Matthew Read was the best navigator he’d ever seen.

MARY: Was that with or without a knife at his throat?

RACKHAM: What do you think?

MARY: I think you’re enjoying this.

RACKHAM: I won’t argue that.

MARY: I think you kill for sport.

63

RACKHAM: And yet you’re the one working aboard a privateer’s sloop. I’m sure the French and Spanish ships you’ve been commissioned to attack would say the same of you.

MARY: I make as honest a living as I can.

RACKHAM: So do I.

MARY: You have a strange definition of honest—

MARY slips out of her bonds. She tackles ANNE and wrangles her sword away from her. A short, chaotic fight ensues between MARY and the CREW. MARY disarms HARWOOD, who then draws a pistol and attempts to fire it. It doesn’t go off. MARY seizes HARWOOD and holds him hostage with ANNE’S sword.

MARY: Get off my fucking ship or I’ll gut him!

HARWOOD: Captain—!

RACKHAM: No need for that, lad. I’m sure we can discuss this politely.

MARY: Think I’m bluffing?

RACKHAM: No. I believe with absolute certainty that you’ll slit that poor boy’s throat, and then he’ll be quite dead and it’ll be quite sad, and then I’ll shoot you in the head.

Pause.

RACKHAM: Let the boy go.

MARY: You’ll kill me if I do.

RACKHAM: I’m not an animal. I don’t like killing prisoners. As long you don’t cause trouble, you get to keep breathing.

MARY lets HARWOOD go, drops her weapon and raises her hands. ANNE retrieves her sword. CORNER binds MARY’S hands.

CORNER: It was decent try for escape, I’ll give you that.

MARY: Christ. Bloody pirates.

RACKHAM: Are you or are you not Matthew Read?

64

MARY remains silent.

HARWOOD: (seething) You might as well just kill him—

RACKHAM waves him off.

RACKHAM: Your name.

MARY remains silent.

ANNE: Oh, for the love of Christ—

ANNE manhandles MARY as she roughly searches through her pockets.

MARY: Get your hands off me, bitch.

ANNE pulls out a piece of parchment from MARY’S pockets.

ANNE: Aha! (she unfolds it and glances through it) A letter of marque, for one Matthew Read.

ANNE passes the letter of marque to RACKHAM.

RACKHAM: And to think that whole matter with Harwood could have been avoided if you’d just been honest in the first place. (pause) (calling) Harwood, stop licking your wounded pride and get our “guest” a drink.

FEATHERSTONE: A drink?

CORNER: Are you mad?

MARY: Are you drunk?

RACKHAM: Mad and drunk? What sort of sailor isn’t?

HARWOOD: Sir, he tried to kill me.

RACKHAM: And he didn’t, and now I’m offering him a drink. Really, Harwood, where are your manners?

HARWOOD: Should I get EVERYONE who tries to kill me a drink?

RACKHAM: Break out the ale! And have one for yourself!

Grumbling, HARWOOD goes off in search of ale.

65

RACKHAM: (to MARY) I want you to join my crew.

MARY: I almost killed one of your men not five minutes ago.

RACKHAM: We’ve had a brawl, now it’s time for a drink.

HARWOOD returns with bottles of ale. He hands one to RACKHAM, then holds another out to MARY at arm’s length. She takes it, but does not drink. RACKHAM drinks.

RACKHAM: Join my crew.

MARY: Offering me a drink does not make me want to join your crew.

RACKHAM: What do you think this is, Matthew?

MARY: Conscription.

RACKHAM: No! No. Conscription would be me putting a pistol to your head and telling you to join my crew. Not very effective, makes some great enemies. (he drinks) I once knew a captain whose ship was crewed entirely by conscripted men. They cut off his hands before they marooned him and left him to die. So, no. I’m not conscripting you. We may get there (he drinks), but we’re not there yet.

MARY: If you’re so desperate for volunteers, look to or Havana or even bloody Nassau—

RACKHAM: Nassau’s gone. And any poor sod can stumble into a tavern at port and join a band of scavengers. If you’re looking for real talent, best look for it in the place where it’s used.

Pause. RACKHAM gestures to MARY’S untouched bottle.

RACKHAM: It’s not poison, you know.

MARY drinks.

MARY: Let’s say I accept your offer. Let’s say I turn my back on the country I serve. I become an outlaw, like you—disgraced, hated, hunted. Likely to find my death swinging from the gallows—

RACKHAM: Which is no more likely than you finding your death tied to the bowsprit by some tyrannical captain hell-bent on giving you punishment.

Pause. 66

RACKHAM: Is that not the way of it?

MARY: Sometimes. Yes.

RACKHAM: That doesn’t have to be the way of it.

MARY: Says the man who killed my captain, threatened to shoot me and will forcibly conscript me if I say “no” to his offer.

RACKHAM: Everyone lives under some kind of threat, only some threats are more blatant than others.

MARY: Then what’s in this for me?

RACKHAM: One and a half shares of every prize taken—

MARY, who is in the middle of taking a drink, chokes. She coughs.

RACKHAM: More than you were expecting, I take it?

One and a half shares, Master Read, and it won’t be contested. That must be a better deal than anything you’ve encountered in the navy. No more wondering when you’ll be paid next, no more captains taking more than their fair share, no more grappling with other sailors for whatever scraps they’re willing to hand out. This isn’t Britain—this is a new world.

But then… seeing as though you’re such a loyal dog (he waves the letter of marque in MARY’S face) maybe that’s beyond your capability to understand.

MARY grabs the letter and rips it in half.

MARY: I’ll be your fucking sailing master—as long as I get my one and a half shares.

RACKHAM: Good. I didn’t go through all of this trouble only to have you say “no”. (calling) Harwood, be a good lad and find us an axe.

HARWOOD: (grumbling) “Find an axe”, he says.

HARWOOD goes off in search of an axe.

MARY: What do you need an axe for?

FEATHERSTONE: Oh, they’ll chop you a pretty pile of firewood, or service you well in battle, but what they’re really for is—

67

ANNE: Swearing. They want you to swear on it.

MARY: Swear to what?

HARWOOD returns, handing the axe to RACKHAM.

HARWOOD: The company.

CORNER: And the company articles.

RACKHAM: We need the semblance of order, or else it all falls apart.

MARY: And if I don’t swear, you slit my throat with that axe?

RACKHAM: Oh, don’t be crude.

HARWOOD: We don’t have a Bible, so—

He gestures at the axe.

CORNER: Just swear on the bloody axe, Read.

MARY: What are your articles?

RACKHAM: One! “That every man shall obey his commander, in all respects.”

CORNER: “That the Captain (he nods at RACKHAM) and the Quartermaster (he indicates himself) receive two shares of every prize taken—”

FEATHERSTONE: (nodding to MARY)“The Master one and a half—”

HARWOOD: “And other officers one and a quarter.”

RACKHAM: Two! “That every man is entitled—

CORNER: “To a vote in affairs of moment.”

RACKHAM: Three! “That if any man should quarrel with another—”

FEATHERSTONE: “The dispute shall be solved with sword and pistol.”

RACKHAM: Four! “That any man who keeps any secret from the company—”

HARWOOD: “Shall be marooned or receive Moses’ Law on the bare back.”

RACKHAM: And five. 68

ANNE: “That if any man should meet with a woman and offer to meddle with her without her consent, he shall suffer death.”

RACKHAM: Do you swear?

MARY places her hand on the axe.

MARY: I swear.

RACKHAM: Excellent!

RACKHAM grasps MARY’S hand and shakes it.

RACKHAM: Then we’re done here. Mister Corner—burn the ship.

SCENE THREE

Spanish Town, Jamaica. LAWES’ study. He composes a letter.

LAWES: To Captain Woodes Rogers, Royal Governor of the Bahama Islands:

Though your reclamation of Providence Island and Nassau have greatly improved British presence in these waters, certain persons, who are subjects of Great Britain, continue to commit vile practices and robberies upon the high seas. As you are no doubt aware, they have occasion to do great damage to the merchants of Great Britain, and others trading into these parts. These depredations must come to an end.

We are at war. This is not a war as in those with the sovereign nations of Spain or France. It is much more immediate and sinister. It is a war with those in our nation who see themselves as separate beings, deserving of something other than what God has granted them.

Give a man a ship and he thinks himself a king!

We cannot compromise. We must demand satisfaction.

SCENE FOUR

May 1720. Harbour Island, the Bahama Islands. The Duchess has pulled into port and dropped anchor. RACKHAM walks the deck, excitement barely contained, accompanied by FEATHERSTONE and CORNER. ANNE watches, her arms crossed.

RACKHAM: Harbour Island! (inhales) Smell that? Smells like… opportunity. And fortune. 69

ANNE: You do realize there’s a warship anchored across the harbour.

RACKHAM: I saw her. Must be on her way to Nassau.

ANNE: With three captured sloops.

RACKHAM: A hefty prize. I should congratulate them.

ANNE: That warship is going to be trouble.

RACKHAM: She won’t fire on a ship at harbour.

ANNE: You should not have brought us so close to Nassau—

RACKHAM: Give it a rest, love. We’ve been at sea for two months.

He kisses her and crosses to CORNER.

ANNE: Not long enough.

MARY and HARWOOD enter from another part of the ship. MARY has a mop in hand—HARWOOD is dogging her steps.

HARWOOD: What’s the matter? Can’t take any help?

MARY: If you don’t get out of my way, I will take this (she holds up her mop) and shove it up your ass.

HARWOOD growls and attacks MARY. They scuffle. CORNER and FEATHERSTONE pull them apart just as HARWOOD draws a knife.

CORNER: Sit down—both of you—before you earn yourselves a flogging.

HARWOOD: I wasn’t gonna hurt him! Mostly…

MARY: You almost got your knife in my eye!

HARWOOD: I should have got my knife in your eye.

FEATHERSTONE: Harwood!

HARWOOD: He almost killed me!

70

MARY: THAT WAS WEEKS AGO! Of course I almost killed you, you attacked my ship! And if you weren’t such a half-wit, you wouldn’t have made yourself such an easy target!

HARWOOD struggles towards MARY again, but CORNER holds him back.

HARWOOD: I’m not a half-wit!

MARY: Your swordplay says otherwise—

HARWOOD: I don’t do swords, you idiot, I do pistols—

MARY: Then maybe you should have shot me instead of squealing like a stuck pig!

HARWOOD: MY POWDER WAS WET.

RACKHAM: Christ Almighty, if you want to brawl, take it off the ship!

MARY: (to HARWOOD) Oh, go stick your head in a water pail.

She walks away. HARWOOD struggles against FEATHERSTONE, to no avail.

FEATHERSTONE: Not worth the trouble, Noah. Let’s take a walk.

He guides HARWOOD to the side of the ship.

RACKHAM: (to MARY) Picking fights with the kid?

MARY: Why is he here?

RACKHAM: Because his father was a good man.

HARWOOD, FEATHERSTONE and CORNER have gathered at the side of the ship.

FEATHERSTONE: I think it’s high time we found young Harwood a lass he can swoon over – don’t you think so, Corner?

CORNER: Kid’s strung tighter than a ball of twine.

HARWOOD: And what if I don’t want one?

FEATHERSTONE: Oh, lad, you don’t know what you say! Women are more precious than gold and are sweeter than the softest, freshest fruit—

71

ANNE: Keep spewing that nonsense and no woman will have you.

RACKHAM: (to MARY) Have you been to Harbour Island before?

MARY: No. Until recently it was quite the haven for pirates, as I’m sure you’re aware.

RACKHAM: Ah, and now you are a pirate. Interesting how quickly a life can change.

MARY: I make my own way. I was a solider – then a privateer – and now a pirate. When one path stops serving me, I find another.

FEATHERSTONE drags HARWOOD to one side.

HARWOOD: Get off!

FEATHERSTONE: What do you see?

HARWOOD: …a woman?

CORNER: (laughing) At least we know he has working eyes.

FEATHERSTONE: Yes—and? Come on, boy, what else?

HARWOOD: She has black hair.

FEATHERSTONE: She doesn’t just have black hair! She has lustrous, shining locks the colour of—(stops) (searching) Of…

ANNE: Ebony.

FEATHERSTONE: Ebony! And skin like—

ANNE: Shimmering pearls.

FEATHERSTONE: Piss off, Anne.

ANNE: Even poets like you need help sometimes.

RACKHAM: (to MARY) So where was it? Where did you learn the trade of war?

MARY: Why does it matter what I’ve done in the past?

RACKHAM: Matthew, all men are welcome to sail with me – the rogues, the outlaws, the brigands. While I don’t care where my men have been before my crew, I want to be certain there are no surprises waiting in the shadows.

72

MARY: As long as I’m paid my share, there won’t be any surprises.

FEATHERSTONE points out across the harbour.

FEATHERSTONE: What about that one?

HARWOOD: Piss off.

CORNER: Blonde not doing it for you?

ANNE: I like the blonde. Nice tits.

CORNER laughs.

FEATHERSTONE: (to ANNE) You’re ruining the fun.

RACKHAM: You’re not going to help Harwood by standing on the deck with your eyes bulging out of your heads. Off with you! And Mister Corner – drop by Elizabeth Sullivan, she’ll deal squarely with you. And she owes me a favour.

(to MARY) Stay with the ship – someone has to keep an eye on our Duchess. Might as well be you.

MARY: Because I’m the new blood?

RACKHAM: Consider it a judgement of your character. Or – if you prefer – a punishment for picking fights with the kid.

RACKHAM, along with the CREW and ANNE, exit.

SCENE FIVE

Night has fallen. MARY lies on her back, stretching out as she gazes up at the night sky, tracing constellations with a hand. She sings softly (“The Parting Glass”).

MARY: (singing) Of all the money that e’er I had I spent it in good company And all the harm I’ve ever done Alas it was to none but me

ANNE enters, bottle in hand. She is drunk. She trips and grunts, startling MARY, who sits up and draws her sword.

MARY: Oh. You.

73

ANNE: Me. I thought you’d’ve left by now.

MARY sheathes her sword.

MARY: Why are you here, Anne? Shouldn’t you be off at a tavern getting drunk and getting laid?

ANNE: I hate port.

She slips and nearly falls, but she catches herself.

MARY: Well, good to see you’ve got the drunk part, at least.

ANNE: I hate port! It’s loud and rude and it carries a stench that makes me gag. (she drinks) Play a game with me.

ANNE rolls a pair of dice between her fingers.

MARY: No.

ANNE: Too much of a coward to have a go, hm? Afraid I’ll beat you?

MARY: I don’t gamble.

ANNE: It’s a gamble being on this ship. (sidling up to MARY) Play a game with me. Please? I don’t say “please” very often. You might never hear me say it again—!

MARY: All right, all right, I’ll play your damn game!

ANNE whoops and kisses MARY on the cheek.

ANNE: What are the stakes?

MARY: Five silvers.

ANNE: (snorts) Hardly. I won’t start at less than twenty.

MARY: Ten.

ANNE: Fifteen.

MARY: Ten, or the game’s done.

ANNE: Ten it is. (pause) And you can cast first. I’m being nice.

74

MARY takes the dice and shakes them between her palms. They begin to play the game of Hazards. MARY wins the first round.

MARY: So how does a woman like you end up in a company like this?

ANNE: A woman like me?—Main of six!

MARY: Temperamental. Violent. Rude.

ANNE: You’d get along well with my father.

MARY: Did he throw you out?

ANNE: We’re playing for silvers, not secrets, Matthew. (pause) Although that would be more interesting. If you’re game.

MARY: Fair enough.

ANNE casts the dice. They play. MARY wins.

ANNE: Damn it! Lucky.

MARY: Maybe.—So how does a woman like you end up in a company like this?

ANNE: Isn’t this where all the bastard children end up?

MARY: You’re illegitimate.

ANNE: My mother was a maid, my father took a liking to her—you know the story.

MARY: At least you know who your father was. And at least he cared enough about you to take you in—

ANNE: He only cared about me because I made him feel better about himself. Because he did the “right” and “good” thing, taking me in. “Be a good girl, or I’ll put you back in the dirt where you belong.” I was his daughter until the moment I did something wrong. (pause) You shouldn’t keep a child you don’t want.

ANNE falls silent. She grabs the dice and holds them out to MARY.

ANNE: Your turn.

MARY casts. They play. ANNE wins.

MARY: Damn it! 75

ANNE laughs.

ANNE: Not so lucky, after all. (pause) The day we took your ship… why did you fight if you meant to join us anyway?

MARY: Instinct. I know how to hold my ground until the very end.

ANNE: Unless there’s silver involved.

MARY: Silver means a meal and a place to sleep. Silver means clothes on your back and a weapon in your hands. Maybe you would understand that if you hadn’t been raised in some rich lord’s manor—

ANNE: Lawyer. My father’s a lawyer and I’m no princess—

MARY: I do what I must for myself, I’m not ashamed of that.

ANNE: You’ve never had a friend in your life, have you?

MARY: Shut up and roll the dice.

ANNE casts. They play. MARY wins.

ANNE: Oh, fucking Christ!

MARY: (laughing) Maybe you’re better off playing for coin.

ANNE: By the end of this night—I swear to God, Matthew Read—I will know all your secrets.

MARY: I doubt that. You still haven’t answered my question.

ANNE: My father didn’t throw me out. I left. To marry someone he didn’t approve of.

MARY: The Captain?

ANNE: No.

MARY: Come on. You still owe me a secret. (she shakes the dice) Or do you want to go back on your word?

ANNE: No! No.

His name was James Bonny. Penniless, no family name… Apprenticed to a blacksmith. And he was... Like a breath of summer air, or – or – a morning 76

sunrise. Gentle. And sweet. We felt like we were the only two people in the whole world who mattered.

We ran away – my father was furious – went to Nassau. We thought ourselves so goddamn clever. But we were no more than children. We had a summer—and then he was gone.

MARY: He left.

ANNE: He died.

Pause.

MARY: I’m sorry.

ANNE: I didn’t tell you that so you could pity me! (pause) I’ve never told anyone about him, except Jack. …so why did I tell you?

MARY shakes the dice in an open palm.

MARY: Because I made you.

ANNE: This is a shitty game.

ANNE snatches the dice out of MARY’S hand and rolls them between her fingers.

ANNE: You want to know how I ended up on this ship? My husband died. And then I met a pirate captain and I thought – fuck it all to hell. If the world wants to knock me down, then the world can piss right off. And Jack – he understood that.

Being at port – any port – it reminds me that there’s a world still out there. One with my father in it, one where my husband died, one where I’m not the only woman Jack sleeps with.

She throws the dice away.

MARY: He’s with another woman?

ANNE: Whatever you think Jack and I are, you’re probably wrong.

MARY: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried into your affairs.

ANNE shrugs.

77

ANNE: It was a game.

MARY: Not all games should be played.

MARY retrieves the dice. She returns to ANNE and holds them out.

MARY: Here. For you.

ANNE takes the dice, but doesn’t let go of MARY’S hand. Instead, she uses it to pull MARY close. She kisses MARY’S cheek.

ANNE: For you. Thank you.

They are still holding hands. MARY and ANNE look at each other, something unspoken passing between them.

They kiss. They struggle for a moment in their own intensity, their hands on each other’s bodies, fingers struggling for the laces of their shirts. Then—

ANNE stops. MARY freezes. They stare at each other.

ANNE: Jesus fucking Christ! MARY: Son of a bitch!

ANNE: You’re a woman!

MARY: Fuck – shit – God damn it!

ANNE: You’re an honest to God woman!

MARY: Fucking hell – do not breathe a word of this to – to – to anyone!

ANNE: Oh, this is rich! This is… and all this time?

MARY: Do you hear me?

ANNE: Oho, you played us all for fools! Oh, you – you – you are beautiful, you are such a creature!

MARY: Anne!

ANNE: How long have you been doing this?

MARY: Since childhood. My brother died and my mother needed a son, so… I became him.

ANNE: And not once in all that time were you discovered? Not even to a lover? 78

MARY: No! I don’t care for men in that manner.

ANNE: Oh. (pause) ...oh! So – when you kissed me—

MARY: Forget the kiss. I felt sorry for you. It meant nothing.

ANNE: That didn’t feel like nothing.

MARY: Anne, you have to promise me not to tell anyone—

ANNE: What’s your name?

MARY: My name is Matthew and you know that.

ANNE: I want to know your Christian name.

MARY: My mother didn’t name me at birth, she thought I’d be dead before the week was out.

ANNE: If you won’t tell me your name, I’ll just have to guess. Is it Polly?

MARY: No.

ANNE: Claire?

MARY: No.

ANNE: Virginia?

MARY: Christ, no!

ANNE: Then who were you before you became Matthew?

MARY: A lonely little girl lost to this world. (pause) Her name was Mary.

A series of loud, deep bells ring out. Gunfire echoes from the shore.

ANNE: What is that? They wouldn’t sound the bells unless—

MARY: Fucking Christ. They’re looking for pirates. They’re looking for us.

SCENE SIX

A dramatic shift in lighting. The bells continue to ring out beneath the action.

79

ANNE/MARY: We jump. Off the ship. Down – down – down.

ANNE: Into the cold, cold sea.

MARY: Skin prickling.

ANNE: Teeth chattering.

ANNE/MARY: We swim to shore.

MARY: The dark shore.

ANNE: The dank shore.

MARY: The shore that smells of piss and ale.

ANNE: The stench – making me ill, making me gag—

ANNE retches. Cannon fire.

MARY: Oh, Christ.

ANNE: Was that the Duchess? Did they fire on the Duchess?!

Cannon fire. MARY seizes ANNE’S hand.

ANNE/MARY: Find the crew, stay alive. Find the crew, stay alive. Find the crew, stay alive.

RACKHAM and the CREW enter.

RACKHAM: That bitch Eleanor sold us out.

CORNER: Fuck the British!

ANNE: That warship you said wouldn’t be a problem – it was a big fucking problem!

CORNER: Fuck the British!

MARY: No ship and we’re trapped on hostile land.

CORNER: Fuck the British!

80

RACKHAM: They might as well string us up now.

MARY: There’s a chance they think they killed us when they destroyed our ship.

HARWOOD: A chance?

MARY: Better than nothing.

ALL: We’re stranded without a ship.

HARWOOD: Lost. MARY: Better than nothing. FEATHERSTONE: Wounded. MARY: Better than nothing. CORNER: Hunted. MARY: Better than nothing.

COMPANY: Will this be our end?

FEATHERSTONE: I’ve lived a life longer than most in this trade—

CORNER: I’ll shoot myself first – and them before that—

HARWOOD: Will it hurt? The sudden drop, the snapping bones, (rapid) crack–crack– crack—

ANNE: I won’t let them take this from me—

RACKHAM: I brought them all to this. I did.

COMPANY: And now we wait for dawn.

CORNER: Hidden. MARY: Stay alive. FEATHERSTONE: Desperate. MARY: Stay alive. HARWOOD: Afraid. MARY: Stay alive. ANNE: What’s a company without a ship? MARY: Stay alive.

RACKHAM: What’s a ship without a company?

MARY: Free for the taking.

81

Light on MARY.

Three captured sloops in the harbour. A warship that wasted its shots on an empty ship. We’re far from over.

Light on the COMPANY.

RACKHAM: Get up! Get up you lot! We won’t wait for them to find us, holed up in the dark like children. Get up!

MARY: We stand. And we move – CREW: (sotto vocce) Step. Tread. weapons drawn – through Don’t trip, don’t fall. the dark of the night. British No mistakes. soldiers continue their Don’t be seen. search, but they won’t find us. No, no. They won’t find Step. Tread. us. It doesn’t occur to them Don’t trip, don’t fall. that we’d be foolish enough No mistakes. to return to the harbour, not Don’t be seen. with our ship destroyed.

ANNE: The harbour is quiet, lit only CREW: (sotto vocce) Step. Tread. by moonlight. The water is Lightly! Lightly! calm – and black as tar. And You’re too loud! there is a ship calling out for You’re too loud! us to take her.

The Tryal.

RACKHAM: We climb aboard. Softly. CREW: (sotto vocce) Step. Tread. Quietly. The ship creaks. Heave. Haul. There’s no one aboard. We Off we go. set sail. Once more.

Quickly. Quietly. Step. Tread. Heave. Haul. And we’re gone. Off we go. Once more. ANNE: Harbour Island’s in the Once more. distance now. (pause) Good Once more. riddance. Once more.

MARY: The heart can lie still at last.

82

As they sail their ship (all, save ANNE), the CREW, ANNE and MARY begin to sing (“Randy Dandy O”), with RACKHAM leading. The city’s bells finally fade out.

COMPANY: Now we are ready to head for the Horn Weigh, hey, roll an’ go! Our boots and our clothes boys are all in the pawn, To be rollickin’ randy dandy O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away Weigh, hey, roll an’ go! The anchor’s on board an’ the cable’s all stored To be rollickin’ randy dandy O…

SCENE SEVEN

An uninhabited bay along the coast of Catt Island. The deck of the Tryal. Night. MARY and RACKHAM walk the deck.

RACKHAM: How did you know of this place?

MARY: The first company I sailed with set anchor here many times. If you want to lie in wait for passing enemy ships, this is the place to do it.

RACKHAM: You’ve done well. We escaped, thanks to you.

MARY: I’m only looking out for my own skin, sir. Can’t help it if I get some others caught up in the mess.

RACKHAM: (laughing) I like you, Read. It would have been an honest to God shame to have had to kill you.

MARY: That’s what I strive for.

RACKHAM: Goodnight, Read.

MARY: Goodnight, sir.

RACKHAM claps MARY on the shoulder. He exits. MARY is alone for a moment, then ANNE appears.

ANNE: You know, when I look at you, “Matthew” really doesn’t suit you. I don’t see it. Your chin’s not nearly chiseled enough.

She puts a hand to MARY’S face. MARY knocks it aside.

83

MARY: Stop it.

ANNE: I’m not hurting you!

She grasps MARY’S face again.

ANNE: It’s so strange. Why couldn’t I see it before?

MARY knocks her hand aside.

MARY: Because you were looking, but you weren’t seeing.

ANNE: Mary—

MARY: Stop calling me that. You’re confusing me—

ANNE: What is there to be confused by? You were Mary. Then you were Matthew, but under Matthew there was always Mary. I’m not asking you to put on petticoats and lace. Your clothing doesn’t change who you are – do you look at me and see a man?

MARY: Of course not.

ANNE: It’s time for you to stop hiding. Whatever purpose this (she waves a hand at MARY) served, it’s gone.

MARY: You don’t know anything.

ANNE: I know that you should tell Jack. To not tell him would be to break his trust. He’s not a man you want to cross.

MARY: For three years I shared a tent with a soldier who never knew what I was because it never occurred to him that I was anything other than what I said. The only way the Captain will know is if you tell him.

ANNE: You think I’d do that? I’m not that sort of woman—

MARY: Then shut your mouth and never speak of this again. This is what I am.

ANNE: You’re what your mother made you.

MARY: I’m Matthew and I like being Matthew.

ANNE: He’s your brother! Not you! (pause) I don’t understand how you can choose to live like this. Never letting anyone get close. Never knowing companionship. And all for some… petty disguise. 84

MARY: You think I’m petty?

ANNE: No! That’s not what I meant—

MARY: That I wanted to be like this?

ANNE: I know how terrifying it is to be the sole woman in the company of men—

MARY: (laughing harshly) You don’t. You have the protection of the captain.

ANNE: When I first came aboard Jack’s ship, I thought his men were going to murder both of us. I’ve heard of that—sailors stowing their sweethearts away, only to be discovered and—

MARY: But that didn’t happen, did it? You thought wrong.

ANNE: Yes! And perhaps you are, too!

MARY: I made that mistake once. I told the person I trusted most in this world and because of him, I was forced to desert the army and run.

I’m not like you. And I wouldn’t want to be.

ANNE: Excuse me?

MARY: Don’t fool yourself. You’re not a member of this company, you’re a trinket— no better than the figurehead on this ship. Something to bring this crew infamy. People hear Rackham’s name and they know he’s “the one with the woman”. Out there you’re nothing more than his mistress. They’ll never respect you.

ANNE: I think I prefer Matthew after all. Mary’s too much of a shithead for me.

ANNE storms away.

MARY: Shit.

SCENE EIGHT

The captain’s quarters aboard the Tryal. RACKHAM is already present as ANNE enters.

RACKHAM: Now, now, what did I do this time—?

She kisses him. 85

ANNE: Stop talking.

She kisses him again and begins to remove his clothing. ANNE pushes RACKHAM down and straddles him.

ANNE: What am I to you?

RACKHAM: What kind of question is that?

He tries to sit up and kiss her, but she pushes him back down.

ANNE: If you and I are being honest with each other right now – what am to you?

RACKHAM: You’re beautiful – and terrifying – a true queen of the seas. And if I didn’t already know that from knowing you, the songs would have told me.

ANNE: They’re singing songs about me? Are they nice songs?

RACKHAM: …what do you think of as “nice”?

ANNE: Oh, God.

She gets up.

RACKHAM: Hey – hey! Forget the songs. I love you. I know you for all your beauty and—

ANNE: And if I wasn’t beautiful? Would you still love me?

RACKHAM: Of course I would—

ANNE: Would you still love me if I caught my hands in the rigging and my fingers were crushed?

RACKHAM: Yes—

ANNE: Or if I lost my arm to gunfire—

RACKHAM: Yes—

ANNE: Or if I caught the pox and was left disfigured–would you still love me then?

RACKHAM: Yes! For the love of God, yes. You’re unlike any other woman I’ve known.

He kisses her again. She pushes him away.

86

ANNE: You’re a rotten piece of filth.

RACKHAM: What?

ANNE: Three years! Three years we’ve been doing whatever the hell this is / – barely scraping together a living—

RACKHAM: (shouting over her) Hey – HEY! If you want something, love, you only have to say.

ANNE: I want to be a damn member of this company. Not some fluffhead dangling off your arm!

RACKHAM: Did one of those bloody swine say something?

ANNE: No.

RACKHAM: Was it Featherstone? You know the shit he says—

ANNE: No.

RACKHAM: Or Corner? His mouth has always been too smart for him—

ANNE: No one said a word.

RACKHAM: Then what brought this on? You’ve always been content—

ANNE: I want the satisfaction of being a real, working member of this company.

RACKHAM: You are fine the way you are. More than fine—

ANNE: Doing what? Fucking you? Give me some damn responsibility, Jack. I’m not just your mistress!

RACKHAM: It’s gruelling, dangerous work. Many men find their deaths at sea without even being in battle.

ANNE: Then you might as well put me back on Cuba and bugger right off for all the good you’re doing me!

RACKHAM: Do you want to go back?

ANNE: Not on your life.

RACKHAM: Maybe you should. You have a life waiting for you there—

87

ANNE: My life’s with you. On this ship. With this crew. I won’t hear of any other. (pause) I can do this. Let me.

RACKHAM: If you had asked me this the day we met, I would have said yes. But your life is not the only one you can be concerned with anymore—

ANNE: Oh, fuck you!

RACKHAM: If I weren’t as selfish as I am, I would change course right now.

ANNE: You’re a bastard.

RACKHAM: Yes. I am. And despite your temper, you’re just a frightened little girl.

ANNE: And you don’t even have the nerve or the decency to commit. To me.

RACKHAM: You think so? Then marry me.

Pause.

ANNE: I’d rather not.

RACKHAM: Then you will have to live with what you’ve been given. And if that leaves you unsatisfied, I will take you back to Cuba. I’m sure Isabela would be happy to have you, considering you placed all your responsibilities on her so you could come running after me.

ANNE: That’s not fair—that wasn’t the way of it!

RACKHAM: I’m not the one who abandoned our son!

ANNE: I’m not the one who wanted a child in the first place!

Pause.

ANNE: I’ll be in the hold. Don’t follow me.

She walks out.

SCENE NINE

The Tryal. Day. RACKHAM and FEATHERSTONE walk the deck.

FEATHERSTONE: Anne spent the night in the hold.

RACKHAM: I know I fucked up with her – don’t need you to say it. 88

FEATHERSTONE: Three months back with the company and already she’s got you twisted around her finger. You should’ve left her where she was. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.

RACKHAM: Some things are worth the trouble. Not that you’d understand that.

FEATHERSTONE: Can’t you trust an old friend to tell it as he sees it?

RACKHAM: Depends on the friend.

FEATHERSTONE: Anne’s not the eager girl you met in Nassau. It may have been fun while it lasted, but… Best let her go. Before she lets you go.

RACKHAM: If any man on this ship has touched her, I’ll have his head.

FEATHERSTONE: She’s not your wife.

RACKHAM: She’s as good as.

FEATHERSTONE: Does she see it that way? (pause) Huh. As I said – let her go.

RACKHAM: Who is it, George? Who’s been messing with her? – Is it you?

FEATHERSTONE: Don’t be daft. For fuck’s sake, Jack, do you really think any of us would be that bloody stupid?

HARWOOD and MARY enter with swords drawn, followed by CORNER.

MARY: Oh, come on, Harwood, you can do better than that!

HARWOOD: I told you, I’m good with pistols—not swords!

MARY: And I know you’ve got more guts than you think.

HARWOOD rushes at her. MARY sidesteps and smacks him on the rear with the flat of her blade. CORNER laughs.

RACKHAM: What’s going on here?

CORNER: Read challenged poor little Noah to a duel.

FEATHERSTONE: Was the other way around, more like.

MARY: (to RACKHAM) I’m teaching the runt not to trip and fall on his sword.

89

HARWOOD: Piss off.

MARY: Better for me to knock it into you than some British redcoat out for your blood.

HARWOOD: Weren’t you a redcoat, back in the day?

CORNER: (to RACKHAM) See? All good fun, sir.

ANNE enters.

ANNE: Well, if it’s all good fun, then don’t mind me if I challenge Read to a duel myself.

Dead silence. ANNE draws her sword.

ANNE: Come now. Our captain seems to have gotten it into his head recently that I’m useless.—Gentlemen, I intend to prove you otherwise.

RACKHAM: Put the bloody sword down, Anne.

ANNE: If I beat Read – a proven soldier, possibly the best swordsman we have – then you give me what I want: a true place in this company. If not – you can do with me as you please.

RACKHAM: Christ Almighty, have you lost your mind?

ANNE: Would you prefer to challenge me yourself?

RACKHAM: I’m not fighting you.

MARY: I’ll play her game, Captain.

RACKHAM: Don’t trouble yourself with her fancies—

MARY: It’s no trouble.

CORNER: This is the funniest shit I’ve seen in a month.

FEATHERSTONE: That’s good enough reason for anything, eh?

ANNE: (to RACKHAM) Do you accept my terms, Captain?

RACKHAM: Do what you want.

MARY: (to ANNE) What will be it? To first blood? 90

ANNE: To first blood. (pause) Don’t go easy on me now.

MARY: You’re the one who wants to humiliate yourself.

The CREW chortles. ANNE and MARY fight. The CREW shout and holler at them.

ANNE: Come on, Read, I didn’t expect you to be as pathetic as this!

MARY: You calling me spineless?

They fight.

MARY: Not bad for someone who’s barely held a sword—

ANNE: Maybe I’m a faster learner than you thought!

They fight. ANNE hits MARY, drawing first blood.

RACKHAM: That’s enough! You’ve proven your point.

ANNE: Have I now? (to CREW) Gentlemen.

She bows dramatically and walks off.

FEATHERSTONE: Christ Almighty.

CORNER: You know what they say – don’t upset an Irish lass.

HARWOOD: He went easy on her.

RACKHAM: Read!

MARY: Yes, sir?

RACKHAM: Chart a course.

MARY: To where, sir?

RACKHAM: Trinidad, Cuba.

MARY: That will take us through the Windward Passage—it’s infested with British warships! Sir, the Tryal is barely holding together as she is, we won’t be able to outrun—

91

RACKHAM: And it’s your responsibility to make sure we won’t have to. Chart it. And don’t breathe a word of it to Anne. (pause) Read, Anne plays games when the mood strikes her. Don’t let her toy with you.

SCENE TEN

June 1720. Northern coast of Jamaica. The harbour of a small fishing village. MARY, FEATHERSTONE and HARWOOD enter.

FEATHERSTONE: Ah, just what I wanted – the earnest smell of rotting fish in the morning.

MARY: We’re only here to trade. By evening tide, we’ll be gone.

FEATHERSTONE: Trade. Why bother? I’d rather raid the fucking place.

MARY: Not when we’re close enough for Port Royal to spit on us. The Captain won’t have it.

FEATHERSTONE: Fuck the Captain. There’s an entire island between us and Port Royal.

MARY: But there’s not an entire island between us and the British frigates we’ve passed. Until we get a better sloop, keep your head down.

FEATHERSTONE: Since when did we make you captain?

HARWOOD: Hey—Read! Who’s Mary?

MARY: …what?

HARWOOD: I heard Anne throwing that name around when she was talking to you the other night. All secret like.

MARY: You hear too much, Harwood.

FEATHERSTONE: Ah, come on, Read – you’ve got a secret rattling around in there somewhere. Cough up.

MARY: I don’t know any Marys.

FEATHERSTONE: Of course you do! Who doesn’t? I’ve got fifteen women for cousins and they’re all named Mary—

ANNE enters.

ANNE: Oh, piss off and leave the poor man alone. Read has a sweetheart named Mary, that’s all. 92

HARWOOD: Huh.

FEATHERSTONE: (to MARY) Oh yeah? What’s this girl look like?

MARY: Not your affair—

CORNER enters. He has a notice in his hand.

CORNER: Anne! Get your fine ass over here—

ANNE: Hell will freeze over before my ass goes where you want it, Corner.

CORNER: I’ve got some official-looking horseshit that needs reading.

ANNE: In some backwater fishing village whose name no one remembers?

CORNER: This isn’t just some backwater fishing village, it’s an English backwater fishing village. Since you’re enlightened and all – read it.

ANNE takes the notice.

ANNE: “By the order of His Excellency, Sir Nicholas Lawes, Governor of Jamaica:

Have it be known that on this day, the 12th of June in the Year of Our Lord 1720, that , James Nicholas, Michael Luntley and seven other men proclaimed to be pirates and enemies of His Majesty’s realm were tried at the Admiralty Court of Spanish Town, and were henceforth found guilty and condemned—”

CORNER: God damn it! Give me that!

He seizes the paper out of ANNE’S hands and rips it in half. He drops the pieces.

MARY: Did you know these men?

CORNER: Know them? Sailed with – fought with – drank with—

HARWOOD: They were friends of my father’s.

FEATHERSTONE: They were all at Nassau when she fell. Same as us. Same as the Captain.

CORNER: Get back to the ship, all of you. We’re leaving this rock.

CORNER exits. FEATHERSTONE picks up the torn pieces of the notice. 93

FEATHERSTONE: How many of us do they have to kill before they’re satisfied? Bastards. (pause) C’mon, Harwood.

FEATHERSTONE and HARWOOD exit.

ANNE: I didn’t know them very well, but I met Luntley a few times in Nassau. They were good men. (pause) Why did we come here? There’s nothing for us in Jamaica.

MARY: Best place to resupply.

ANNE: Only if we’re headed for the southern coast of Cuba. (pause) Fuck!

MARY: What’s the matter – don’t care for the Spanish?

ANNE: We’re going to fucking Trinidad and he didn’t have the balls to tell me!

MARY: What’s in Trinidad?

ANNE: My son. Our son. (pause) He’s finally decided he doesn’t want me. He wants to stick me back on some rock—this is your fault!

MARY: How is it my fault?

ANNE: You’re the one who put the idea in my head, that I was a – a – a – what did you call me? – a trinket! You even played my fucking stupid game with that duel—and I know you threw that fight, don’t pretend otherwise—

MARY: I was trying to help you.

ANNE: I’m about to lose everything, thanks to you.

MARY: I’m sorry…?

ANNE: No, you’re not. You don’t know – you don’t know what it’s like to do something wrong when you think it’s right and have everything taken away from you!

MARY: You think I—of all people—don’t know that?

ANNE: Life is simple for you! Your mother dressed you up and sent you out the door and the world became yours.

MARY: My mother condemned me to a hell I can never escape—

94

ANNE: No one knows who you truly are, but that’s a small price to pay when you can have whatever life you want – when you want – how you want—

MARY: My heart almost stopped today when Harwood said my name. I thought he knew, I thought he was about to tell everyone.

Do you have any idea what happens when the disguise comes off? These men… These men feel betrayed. Cheated. Fooled. They think it’s one long, cruel game played to humiliate them.

The only man I ever told—we’d saved each other’s lives in battle a hundred times. When I told him who I was… and when I said I would not have him… He beat me. And cut me. And tried to kill me. So I killed him first. The only friend I’d ever known.

ANNE: You were only protecting yourself.

MARY: You don’t know what it’s like to have blood on your hands, even if it’s justified.

ANNE: But I know what it’s like to live with guilt. No real mother abandons her child.

MARY: Then why don’t you go back?

ANNE: The last time Jack brought me to Trinidad, he gave me a kiss and a promise he would return for me—and then he left. And I waited—and waited—with this thing growing inside me. When the baby came I could barely look at it. And still he didn’t come for me. It was months before he finally showed up.

I won’t turn into some shrivelled up husk who sits on the shore pining for a lover who only comes back once a year.

Pause.

Sometimes I wonder if it would be better if I left. The men—they have no respect for me. Featherstone despises me. But I can’t leave—not when the only friend I have is part of this company.

MARY: Friend?

ANNE: Is that strange?

MARY: No, it’s… unexpected.

ANNE: I care for you. 95

MARY: Why?

ANNE: Because you’ve got a heart in there somewhere, Mary Read. And I think you need a friend as much as I.

SCENE ELEVEN

Somewhere off the southern coast of Cuba. Night. The Tryal is anchored in the bay of a small, uninhabited island. ANNE and MARY are huddled together on the empty deck. They are drinking. ANNE holds up her bottle and looks at it.

ANNE: Do you know what this is?

MARY: No.

ANNE: Whatever it is, it tastes horrible.

MARY: All the more reason to keep drinking it.

ANNE: Well, cheers then!

MARY: Shhh! Be mindful of those below.

ANNE: Oh, bother that!

MARY: I can’t help but be bothered at how this may look to the others.

ANNE: What does it look like?

MARY: Like I’m trying to seduce you under the moonlight while the rest of the crew lies in a drunken stupor.

ANNE: Oh, bother that.

They drink.

MARY: The Captain’s already given me a warning not to let you toy with me.

ANNE: He did? Ha!

MARY: Anne. Be serious.

ANNE: I am serious. (pause) Why do you call him “the Captain”?

96

MARY: He’s my commanding officer. It’s a sign of respect.

ANNE: It’s a sign you’ve got a stick up your ass. Oh, Mary, Mary – when are you going to learn to live?

MARY: When are you going to confront the Captain about leaving you on Cuba?

ANNE: I can handle it. There’s always something. Something to be said, to be done. Or do you think me absolutely hopeless?

MARY: That’s the last thing I think you are.

MARY embraces ANNE. RACKHAM enters.

RACKHAM: ANNE!

He draws his sword.

RACKHAM: (to MARY) I knew it was you – I didn’t want to think it – but I fucking knew it was you—

He attacks MARY. They fight.

RACKHAM: How long have you been fucking her?

MARY: I HAVEN’T!

They fight. RACKHAM knocks MARY down. ANNE tackles him.

ANNE: Jesus Christ, it’s not what you think—

RACKHAM: Don’t lie to me!

RACKHAM throws ANNE off. He and MARY fight. RACKHAM draws a pistol, aiming it at MARY just as the CREW arrive. They try to break up the fight.

CORNER: What the fucking hell is happening here?!

FEATHERSTONE: Put it down, Jack—

MARY: Captain attacked me—

RACKHAM: Tell the truth Read, or I swear to God I’ll shoot you—

CORNER: Put the pistol down, for Christ’s sake— 97

RACKHAM: Don’t cross me, Corner—

CORNER: I will when you’re being a goddamn fool—

RACKHAM: Tell them, Read—tell them what you’ve done—

ANNE: Whatever you saw, it’s not what you make it out to be—

RACKHAM: Words right from the mouths of lying whores—

CORNER: Put your weapons down right now, all of you—!

RACKHAM: Read’s been messing with Anne—

MARY: I HAVEN’T!

ANNE: Matthew’s a friend, nothing more—

RACKHAM: STOP LYING!

ANNE: I’M NOT! Because Matthew—he’s not Matthew, he’s a woman!

Silence. MARY looks at ANNE with horror.

MARY: Anne—

ANNE: I’m sorry—

RACKHAM throws the pistol down and crosses to MARY. He seizes her and rips her shirt. MARY falls, clutching the pieces of her shirt to her chest. She kneels in the centre of the deck, ringed by the COMPANY.

FEATHERSTONE: Sweet Jesus.

CORNER: Fucking hell.

HARWOOD: She’s telling the truth.

RACKHAM: A woman. Another woman on my blasted ship, in my fucking crew.—Am I a fool? God must have made me a fool not to have seen this.

MARY: You see what you want to see.

RACKHAM: Shut up.

98

RACKHAM turns on ANNE, seizing her and dragging her to the centre.

RACKHAM: You knew—all this time, you knew?!

ANNE: Yes.

RACKHAM: You dare—you dare—

MARY: Leave her be, I told her not to say a word!

CORNER: What’s your name?

MARY: Mary.

CORNER: So, Mary—what did you do, hm? Thought it’d be fun to dress in your brother’s clothes and play soldier?

MARY: Close enough.

FEATHERSTONE: Thought you could keep this farce going forever?

MARY: I was damn near close to it—

RACKHAM: Must have been quite the laugh for you, playing us for fools—

MARY: It wasn’t that at all—

RACKHAM hits her.

MARY: Are you done? Or are you going to rape me next? Isn’t that what happens to women who step out of line?

RACKHAM: That will never happen to you on a ship I command. But you are going leave, one way or another.

Pause.

Christ – someone get her something to cover herself.

HARWOOD offers his coat to MARY. She puts it on.

Matthew Read. Mary. Whoever the hell you are. You have concealed your identity from those you swore to trust. You have lied, you have kept secrets. The punishment is to be marooned with nothing but the clothes on your back—

99

ANNE: No!

RACKHAM: Do you understand?

ANNE: I didn’t tell you who she was so you could throw her off the ship!

MARY: I understand.

RACKHAM: I am sorry it has come to this. You were a fine sailing master.

MARY: Then let me stay. I’ve nothing left to hide.

RACKHAM: Even outlaws need some kind of governance. If I let your transgressions pass, I am no captain.

ANNE: I swear to God, Jack, if she goes, I’ll follow—

RACKHAM: You will not—

ANNE: I’ll make it so you never see me again—

MARY: You’ve forgotten the other half of that article. “That any man who keeps any secret from the company shall be marooned…or receive Moses’ Law on the bare back.”

FEATHERSTONE: Moses’ Law. That’s thirty-one lashes.

MARY: Yes.

FEATHERSTONE: Thirty-one.

MARY: Yes.

CORNER: Are you certain you know what you’re asking, girl?

MARY: Your captain gets to keep his sailing master, Anne won’t throw herself overboard to come after me, I get to stay with a ship that pays, and your blasted code is satisfied.

CORNER: You’d accept this punishment willingly?

MARY: I’m the last person to be afraid of the lash.

ANNE: Mary—

100

MARY: There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.—Can we get on with it so we can continue past whatever the hell this is?

RACKHAM: Mister Corner—fetch the cat o’ nine tails.

CORNER: Yes, sir.

ANNE: Jack – she’s my friend—

RACKHAM: And she’s also in my crew.

MARY: Anne, it’s all right.

CORNER returns and hands the cat o’ nine tails to RACKHAM, who crosses to MARY.

MARY: Get it done.

MARY removes HARWOOD’S coat. RACKHAM raises the cat o’ nine tails.

Blackout. In the immediate darkness that follows—the sound of the whip striking once. And then once again. And then once again.

[END OF ACT ONE] 101

ACT TWO

SCENE ONE

November 28, 1720. Admiralty Court, Spanish Town, Jamaica. LAWES presides. ANNE and MARY stand as they were before.

LAWES: Do you deny that you were among the company when it stole the William from Nassau harbour? Or that you were not present when the captain of your ship ordered a raid on the settlements of Harbour Island?

You must speak. If you do not, the law cannot help you. I cannot help you.

There are witnesses who can attest to your actions. Such as one Thomas Spenlow, whom you attacked and held hostage. Or Thomas Dillon, who, when recollecting your attack on his ship, stated that you were “very profligate, cursing and swearing much, and very ready and willing to do anything onboard.” Or, perhaps, we can look to your last victim, Dorothy Thomas, who says you swore to the men of your company that they must murder her—

The CROWD shouts and jeers, calling for the women’s deaths. LAWES gestures for silence.

What have you to say in your defense? What can you say?

You must speak. You must speak!

SCENE TWO

August, 1720. Nassau, Providence Island. The CREW work upon the deck of the Tryal (hauling rope, etc). ANNE sits on the deck, methodically sharpening her weapons.

FEATHERSTONE: Nassau. Never thought I’d be here again.

HARWOOD: Someone has to deal with that prick sitting in the governor’s house.

FEATHERSTONE: That prick is near untouchable. All governors are.

CORNER: Doesn’t mean we can’t make them hurt for it. (calling) Anne! Get over here!

ANNE continues sharpening her weapons.

CORNER: Haven’t you bee at that long enough?

102

ANNE picks up a knife and plays with it.

ANNE: Making you nervous, am I?

CORNER takes the knife away.

CORNER: Oh no. Not me.—Get to work.

ANNE joins the CREW in their work.

FEATHERSTONE: I wish she’d go back to the way she’d been. Liked her better when she was just the Captain’s mistress.

HARWOOD: Well, she isn’t anymore. She’s made that clear—won’t even let the Captain—

ANNE: What’s that now, Harwood?

HARWOOD: Nothing.

ANNE: C’mon. Let me hear it.

FEATHERSTONE: Stop talking and start working—

ANNE: I can work and talk all at once—

FEATHERSTONE: Two months isn’t quite enough to learn all the tricks of the trade.

ANNE: I do my best.

FEATHERSTONE: Which is hardly worth the share you’ve been given—

ANNE: Does Mary earn her share? Or do you think she doesn’t deserve it because she’s also a woman?

FEATHERSTONE: It’s different with Read.

ANNE: Maybe I wasn’t born a sailor like you, but I’m where I need to be, when I need to—or should I not save your life the next time a British officer is aiming for your head?

FEATHERSTONE: Oh, for fuck’s sake, ever since that thing with Read, the Captain lets you do whatever you please. You’ve let the whole world go to your head—

CORNER: Jesus Christ, do you two ever shut up?

103

FEATHERSTONE: You know, Corner, we’re at port. Perfect time to convince the Captain to leave his fucking whore, like he meant to—

ANNE attacks FEATHERSTONE. They fall. ANNE gets the upper hand and pushes him to the deck floor.

ANNE: Say that again!

FEATHERSTONE: Get off! Get off!

ANNE: Say that again!

CORNER pulls her off.

CORNER: What the fucking hell was that? If you were anyone else, I’d have you lashed for attacking a fellow crew member.

ANNE: Go ahead then. It’s the only thing you understand—

CORNER: If you don’t get a hold of that temper of yours, I will. This isn’t the time for fighting amongst ourselves.

MARY and RACKHAM enter.

MARY: This is a precarious position—

RACKHAM: We need to make them see us, make Rogers think we pose no threat—

MARY: We’re dead the moment they know what we are—or have you forgotten what happened at Harbour Island?

RACKHAM: No. Which is precisely why I’ve brought us here. The William’s the fastest, most heavily armed sloop in the Caribbean. With her under my command, the high seas are ours.

MARY: This is a fool’s game.

RACKHAM: And all I need from you is for you to do your fucking job. You’re a sailing master, not a captain.

RACKHAM signals the COMPANY for attention.

Gentlemen, tonight we set about what will be our greatest venture yet. I would be a fool to say that it is not without danger. But the greatest risks reap the richest rewards – and the William is the key to a greater fortune than we have ever known. 104

But that is not the only reason we have come here. To Providence.

Some of you have sailed with me for a very long time. You were with me when Nassau was at the height of her glory. You were with me the day she burned. You saw the bodies in the streets, the blood in the water, our allies hanging from the gallows. And when the smoke finally cleared, you saw that cursed flag raised above the ruins of our home, claiming her for a petulant king and his arrogant followers who would suck this world dry.

And still they hunt us, slaughtering our brothers like dog. You remember Harris, you remember Luntley—

HARWOOD: My father!

RACKHAM: All have been taken from us – by rich governors who sit in lofty houses, ordering the deaths of men who dare to demand freedom.

Men like Rogers, men likes Lawes – their time has come. We will exact vengeance. Blood for blood. And if we cannot strike them down, we’ll strike down their followers.

Hell’s winds are at our command.

Gentlemen—let’s make our names remembered.

SCENE THREE

August—September 1720. The Bahama Islands. A dramatic shift in lighting. Ocean waves. Wind in the rigging. Creaking ship timbres.

A light on LAWES.

LAWES: Terror and chaos are with us this day.

A light on the COMPANY.

COMPANY: Nassau.

LAWES: We—the royal subjects of His Majesty, the King of Great Britain—are under threat. Our enemies lie in wait for us.

MARY: Strike them before they strike you.

LAWES: Seeking our weaknesses.

105

ANNE: Bleed them before they bleed you.

LAWES: Feeding on our fears.

RACKHAM: Make them remember you.

COMPANY: We are—

CORNER: Unshackled.

FEATHERSTONE: Unbound.

HARWOOD: Unleashed.

LAWES: Men such as these—they are—

RACKHAM: A horror.

LAWES: Horrors.

CORNER: A menace.

LAWES: And menaces.

FEATHERSTONE: A terror.

LAWES: Terrors.

HARWOOD: A devil.

LAWES: Like devils in human shape.

RACKHAM: Scum of the earth, but kings of the sea!

Cannon fire.

RACKHAM: THE WILLIAM IS OURS, LADS! LET THE BLACK FLAG FLY!

RACKHAM’S banner – a skull and crossed swords – is raised, flying high above their heads, where it will remain for the duration of the act. Cannon fire.

COMPANY: Harbour Island.

LAWES: But still—they are only men. Not demons who cannot be slain.

106

ANNE: Skin burning.

MARY: Blood boiling.

RACKHAM: Watch the cannons roars—

CORNER: The blood spray.

FEATH/HAR.: The timbers crack—

LAWES: They are men—like you and I—capable of death.

CORNER: In Ireland, I was stricken by poverty In the navy, I was a slave This, here, this is where I am free—

For that, I am more than willing to die.

Cannon fire.

COMPANY: Catt Island.

LAWES: They have chosen to forsake all that is good and righteous in the world—in favour of the corrupt!

FEATHERSTONE: This is for the friends who are gone Good men who deserved better Brothers lost before their time—

Your memory will live out in the fortune we make.

Cannon fire.

COMPANY: Heneago.

LAWES: We all walk a difficult path through this life—

HARWOOD: This is my proving ground This is the day, this is the moment I finally become a man—

I’ll make my father proud.

Cannon fire.

COMPANY: Hispaniola. 107

LAWES: It is those who allow themselves to be driven by their basest of desires who have the farthest to fall!

ANNE/MARY: I have been born anew.

Gone—

MARY: Is the cold, / selfish man—

ANNE: Is the terrified little girl—

ANNE/MARY: I hid behind.

I am a woman now. A woman learning—

MARY: To be unafraid of fear—

ANNE: To demand what she wants—

MARY: To unbury her buried soul—

ANNE: To never yield what she loves—

MARY: To unshackle her self-made bonds—

ANNE: To defy all reason and expectation.

ANNE/MARY: To have come this far Through the pits of hell and back again Is not a miracle.

And I look at her.

MARY: The one who pulled me from the hell I created.

ANNE: The one who demanded I never be less than what I am.

MARY: My friend.

ANNE: My companion.

ANNE/MARY: My kindred spirit.

MARY: And I think—

108

ANNE: Don’t think.

ANNE kisses MARY. Pause. MARY returns the kiss.

They are hesitant at first, but slowly—stumbling, unsure of what to do or where they are going—they begin to make love. Their actions are underscored by LAWES’ speech.

LAWES: Men such as these. They are poor wretches Living in sin, destroying their very own beings— For they cannot help themselves. Their hungers can never be satisfied.

Blackout.

SCENE FOUR

September 1720. Tortuga. A room in a tavern. Warm sunlight shines in, illuminating the sleeping forms of ANNE and MARY, who are lying, curled up, together. MARY rises. She looks at ANNE with both care and uncertainty. For a moment she is suspended in indecision, then she begins to gather her discarded clothing.

ANNE: …is it dawn already?

MARY: We should head back to the ship. They’ll start to wonder where we’ve gone.

ANNE: Let them wonder.

MARY: And if they come looking for us?

ANNE: Mary, stop—

MARY: We should go. Please. Can’t we go? Let’s go.

ANNE: Outside this room, there’s a hurricane. There’s no time for rest in the middle of a hurricane. But in here—it stops. We can forget, for a moment, because as soon as we walk out that door, we’ll be thrown back into the chaos. I want this moment to last just a little longer. Can’t you give us that?

MARY: I don’t know if I can.

ANNE: This wasn’t a mistake.

109

MARY: I was Matthew for a very long time. And Matthew was always alone. (pause) I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to do this.

ANNE: Don’t be afraid of this.

MARY: Then what of Rackham?

ANNE: He and I—we’re fire and ice. The sun and the moon. One moment, one of us drives the other away—the next, the stars align and we fly back together. That’s always been the way of it.

MARY: Do you still love him?

Silence.

MARY: I need to know.

ANNE: I love you, Mary Read. You. Because you and me… you and me. I don’t know what we are, but Christ—I don’t care. With you, I can do anything.

MARY: Such as?

ANNE: Take on the world.

MARY: You don’t start small.

ANNE: I can see it, Mary. I can see it! You and me, some day. A ship of our own.

MARY: Do I get to be captain? Because that’s not negotiable.

ANNE: You’re better suited to it than I am. I’ll be your lowly quartermaster.

MARY: You could never be lowly.

MARY kisses her. ANNE draws away and they settle into an embrace. ANNE gently presses a hand to MARY’S back.

ANNE: Your scars. From the lash

MARY: They’re only scars.

ANNE: You have them because of me.

MARY: And without them, I would still be living a lie. I don’t resent what happened, Anne. I’m myself. I’m free.

110

SCENE FIVE

Off the coast of Hispaniola. The deck of the William. CORNER screams in agony, clutching his hand, which has been badly mangled in a battle. MARY tends to him.

MARY: Stay still, Goddamnit—

CORNER: Touch me again and I swear to God / I’ll gut you—

MARY: Damn it, Corner!

CORNER: (continuing)—pull out your pretty little innards and twist ‘em all together— argh!

FEATHERSTONE pulls RACKHAM aside.

FEATHERSTONE: This is your damn fault!

RACKHAM: I didn’t shoot him!

CORNER cries out.

FEATHERSTONE: That same recklessness that made you a captain is going to get you killed— and the rest of us along with you!

CORNER: For fuck’s sake, just put me out of my miserable existence already!

MARY: God damn it! It’s not use… It’s no use—

Pause.

Harwood. Featherstone. Get over here. Now.

HARWOOD: What are you gonna do?

MARY: Hold him down—

MARY rips a strip of leather from her clothing and shoves it in CORNER’S mouth.

HARWOOD: What are you doing?!

MARY: I’m sorry. This is the only way—

She draws her sword and amputates CORNER’S mangled hand. 111

ANNE: Oh, Christ—

MARY bandages CORNER’S wound.

MARY: Get him below. And pray he’ll be fine.

ANNE takes over caring for CORNER, who refuses to move. MARY stands wearily. She’s covered in blood.

FEATHERSTONE: You’ve killed him. (to RACKHAM and MARY) Both of you! You’ve bloody killed him!

MARY: That gunshot shattered his hand—

CORNER: CAN’T A MAN IN PAIN HAVE SOME FUCKING QUIET! (pause) You’re all fucking twats, you know that—Someone get me something to drink!

HARWOOD goes.

MARY: (to RACKHAM) Featherstone’s right. If Corner dies, this is your fault—

RACKHAM: That warship—

MARY: You couldn’t resist attacking it because it flew British colours!

RACKHAM: That warship could have been the biggest prize a company like ours has ever taken—

FEATHERSTONE: At what price?

RACKHAM: I am more than willing to die for this life—

MARY: This is about making yourself remembered! All bow before Jack Rackham, the terror of the West Indies—!

RACKHAM: You go too far—

MARY: I have the blood of an ally on my hands, I’ll tear down your command right now if I have to.

RACKHAM: Then I’ll maroon you. And shoot you—for —

MARY: (laughing) You need me more than you care to admit. And you’ve already done your worst to me.

112

ANNE: That’s enough!

HARWOOD returns and hands a bottle of ale to CORNER, who downs it.

MARY: Is it? We have no quartermaster!

FEATHERSTONE: He’s not dead yet—

MARY: A lame quartermaster is no quartermaster at all.

HARWOOD: He’ll be fine—

CORNER: I’m finished, I might not even live through this. (pause) Replace me.

HARWOOD: Corner—

CORNER: REPLACE ME, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

Pause.

ANNE: I’ll do it.

RACKHAM: Anne—

CORNER: Jesus Christ—

FEATHERSTONE: No.

ANNE: I know this ship. I know this crew. I’ve fought with you, bled with you—and I’m always the first one into battle—

FEATHERSTONE: You’re mad!

MARY: It’s not that mad of an idea.

FEATHERSTONE: You would say that—Anne Bonny and Mary Read, always of one mind—

MARY: For Christ’s sake, how many times does she have to prove herself? She deserves this—

FEATHERSTONE: Jack, I’ve sailed with you for ten years. Ten bloody years. Given you nothing but my loyalty—

ANNE: You need someone who balances out your wits. You’ll want me at your side—

113

FEATHERSTONE: Ten years has to mean something.

ANNE: And you made me a promise once.

FEATHERSTONE: Would you really risk order amongst the crew just so you can get that whore back in your bed?

RACKHAM punches FEATHERSTONE. CORNER starts laughing manically.

CORNER: Good lord, look at you all. Never would have guessed I was the one keeping all hell from breaking loose. (pause) Just have them fucking duel for it! There are some problems that can only be solved by sword and pistol.

ANNE: Gladly.

FEATHERSTONE: Done.

MARY: Rackham?

RACKHAM: Get on with it.

ANNE and FEATHERSTONE draws their swords. They fight. It’s a short, ugly affair and they both know how to fight dirty. The rest of the COMPANY watches in silence. ANNE outmaneuvers FEATHERSTONE, disarming him and knocking him down to the ground. She holds him there at sword point.

ANNE: I am not a whore. Say it again and I will end you. Is that understood?

FEATHERSTONE: Fuck off.

ANNE: Understood?

FEATHERSTONE: Yes. Yes.

ANNE sheathes her sword. She offers a hand to FEATHERSTONE to help him up. He refuses it. HARWOOD goes instead.

RACKHAM: I think there’s been enough madness aboard this ship for one day.

SCENE SIX

Spanish Town, Jamaica. LAWES’ study. He composes a letter.

LAWES: To Woodes Rogers:

114

I do not need a reminder from one such as yourself of the severity of the situation. You, however, require a reminder that the lands that fall within your protection are not the sole sufferers of these attacks. We are all at risk. In such troubled times, we must assist one another.

The man responsible is the same man who slighted you in August: one Captain John Rackham. I have received word that he has aboard his ship some thousand pounds worth of tobacco, cotton, pimiento and other goods bound for England.

He has eluded every ship I have sent to capture him. As such, I have dispatched Captain Jonathan Barnet. I have faith that where the others failed, he will succeed.

We will soon bring an end to this ordeal.

SCENE SEVEN

October 1720. Dry Harbour, Jamaica. The CREW and MARY are at work cleaning and maintaining their weapons. They sing as they work (“The Golden Vanity”). CORNER struggles with the work.

CREW/MARY: (singing) There was a ship that sailed all on the lowland sea And the name of the ship was the Golden Vanity And we feared she’d be taken by the Spanish enemy As she sailed upon the lowland, lowland, low Sailed upon the lowland sea

Then up stepped the cabin boy just the age of twelve and three And he said to our captain, “What will you give to me If I swim alongside the Spanish enemy And I sink her in the lowland, lowland, low Sink her in the lowland sea?”

FEATHERSTONE stops singing before the rest.

FEATHERSTONE: Hey, Harwood – why don’t you dig out that piece of driftwood you call a fiddle and play us a real tune?

HARWOOD: Pay me first.

FEATHERSTONE: In what?

HARWOOD dumps his cutlass and pistol in front of FEATHERSTONE.

115

FEATHERSTONE: You’re a fucking little runt, Harwood, anyone tell you that? (he picks up HARWOOD’S sword) This better be worth it. I haven’t heard a good tune since we left Tortuga.

HARWOOD: Know what I heard in Tortuga?

MARY/CORNER: No.

HARWOOD: Rumours. Stories. Tales. Know what about?

MARY/CORNER: No.

HARWOOD: Us. They say we’re the only company of pirates left in the West Indies capable of standing against the British.

CORNER: Will they still say that when they know our luck’s run out, I wonder?

HARWOOD: Our luck only runs out when we’ve been caught.

FEATHERSTONE: Don’t fool yourself, Harwood. We haven’t taken a prize in weeks.

ANNE and RACKHAM enter.

RACKHAM: We didn’t keep Thomas Spenlow hostage for two days just so we could ignore what he said—

ANNE: He lied. There’s nothing here—

RACKHAM: Yet.

ANNE: How long do we lie in wait for this merchant? Until our water dries up and our provisions run out?

RACKHAM: There’s a bloody fortune aboard the Mary and Sarah—

ANNE: We have a bloody fortune aboard this ship! We should go to Santiago or Havana and sell—

RACKHAM: Read said the same thing not two days ago.

ANNE: Good. You should listen to her.

RACKHAM: What is it with you and her?

ANNE: We aren’t discussing Mary and me—

116

RACKHAM: Because if there’s one thing I can’t understand, it’s what the two of you are—

ANNE: You nearly killed her once because you let your jealousy get the better of you. Why should I say anything to you about it?

RACKHAM: It’s different now.

ANNE: Is it?

RACKHAM: Well—you’re women.

ANNE: Ah. Yes. Yes, we are.

RACKHAM: And what of us?

CORNER: God fucking damn it!

CORNER throws down the pistol he has been trying to clean. MARY takes it and cleans it.

MARY: I knew a man in the army. Lost his whole right arm. Took him a year to learn to use his left hand just as well as his right—

CORNER: Well, I don’t have a fucking year.

MARY: You are well within your rights to take your share and leave—

CORNER: I know where my fucking loyalties lie.

FEATHERSTONE: With so many British hounds dogging us, it’ll be a miracle if we survive ‘til Christmas.

HARWOOD: We have the fastest ship in the Caribbean, we can outrun them—

FEATHERSTONE: There are some things you can’t outrun, Harwood. Even your father knew that.

RACKHAM: And if you wanted a life without risk or merit, George, you should have stayed on land.

FEATHERSTONE: What you’ve gotten us into isn’t worth risk or merit. Am I right, boys?

HARWOOD: We can’t wait here any longer—

MARY: We should stop antagonizing Lawes and move on—

117

RACKHAM: Regardless of your feelings about how I command my ship, I’ve left my mark—

MARY: You’re becoming reckless—

CORNER: Maybe too reckless—

ANNE: Enough already! You’ve made yourselves clear—

RACKHAM: Lawes is hunting us because he fears us—and that’s worth something immeasurable. Not that you lot seem to understand that!

FEATHERSTONE: Horseshit! You’re not fucking Blackbeard. You don’t have a fleet, you’re one man with a ship!

HARWOOD suddenly waves his arms, trying to grab the COMPANY’S attention.

HARWOOD: Captain—Captain! Sloop approaching! And she’s flying British colours!

RACKHAM: Does she have a name?

HARWOOD: Mary and Sarah.

RACKHAM: To arms, men! We’re taking this prize even if it’s the last thing we do!

SCENE EIGHT

Dry Harbour, Jamaica. A dramatic shift in lighting. Cannon fire. Crack of timbres breaking.

RACKHAM: And so it begins.

CORNER: As it always does.

FEATHERSTONE: A vessel’s spotted and—

HARWOOD: BOOM! Fire and smoke and charred, broken wood.

MARY: Just another bone to be pecked clean.

RACKHAM: Is this not what we fucking live for? The dogs will eat the dogs, but we’re the ones feasting tonight! PREPARE TO BOARD!

COMPANY: Pillage, plunder from stem to stern We’re here to take, we’re here to burn 118

Pillage plunder from stem to stern We’re here to take, we’re here to burn

The CREW continues chanting beneath as MARY, ANNE and RACKHAM speak.

MARY: Anne’s the first to board Charging forward like some maddened wild thing It’s here she loses herself.

ANNE: Mary follows me onto the ship She’s lithe, strong, battle-hardened It’s here she knows herself best.

RACKHAM: These women on my ship, these women on my crew Thieving like brigands, fighting like devils It’s here I know the high seas can fall to the three of us.

RACKHAM/ ANNE/MARY: To Rackham and Bonny and Read!

The CREW’S chanting ceases.

HARWOOD: It’s over in a moment.

FEATHERSTONE: Only four are dead.

RACKHAM: Captain Thomas Dillon and his crew surrender.

CORNER: Most bolted for the hold or dove overboard to make for shore.

MARY: We let Dillon go.

ANNE: We tell him he has nothing to fear.

RACKHAM: We’re English pirates, you see. And gentlemen.

The COMPANY cheers in celebration. ANNE laughs gleefully. Flushed by this victory, she embraces RACKHAM. As the CREW and MARY celebrate their victory, it is as if everything for ANNE and RACKHAM has come to a stop. The ocean waves beat.

RACKHAM: And here’s a truth: I still see something in you. Something of older days.

ANNE: Days long gone. 119

RACKHAM: Before Nassau fell—

ANNE: Before our son—

RACKHAM: Before I ruined what we had—

ANNE: I was drawn to you, then.

RACKHAM: I was entranced by you.

RACKHAM/ANNE: I still am.

Pause.

ANNE: And here’s a truth: I still want you.

She throws herself into his arms. They kiss.

SCENE NINE

The captain’s quarters aboard the William. Night.

ANNE: You were right.

RACKHAM: Of course I was. You have to have patience, love. You can’t always be swept away by the vigor of the chase. Sometimes the best prize comes when you wait for it.

ANNE: And the men?

RACKHAM: Once they’ve drunk themselves into a stupor, they’ll forget their anger. The taste of victory is very sweet. (pause) Think of what we can do, Anne—you and me—

ANNE: And Mary?

RACKHAM: Yes. And Mary. We are something to be reckoned with.

ANNE: There’s always another grand adventure.

RACKHAM: Always another prize to be taken. (pause) I love you, you know.

ANNE: I know. (pause) But this is the last time this can happen—

RACKHAM: Because of Mary? 120

ANNE: Yes.

RACKHAM: It’s some strange fascination, Anne, it will pass—

ANNE: It’s not. And it won’t.

RACKHAM: Then why did you come to me last night?

ANNE: When can I ever keep myself from you?

RACKHAM: You did a damn fine job of that these past few months.

ANNE: Because I had to. I love her, and I couldn’t lie to her. Mary deserves more than that.

RACKHAM: What is it, hm? What is it about her? What has she done for you that I haven’t?

ANNE: She needs me. You don’t. (pause) Whatever we once were, Jack, it’s gone. It’s time to stop pretending otherwise.

Pause.

RACKHAM: Then where will you and Mary go?

ANNE: Go? This is our ship, this is our crew—

RACKHAM: If you won’t have me, then you must go.

ANNE: And where do you think two women can sail freely as themselves? There’s not a place in the whole Caribbean—

RACKHAM: Get out—

ANNE: This doesn’t have to be an end for us—

RACKHAM: GET OUT! Before you make me do something I regret.

ANNE: As you say—Captain.

ANNE leaves.

SCENE TEN

121

Early November, 1720. Negril Bay, Jamaica. Night. The COMPANY (without RACKHAM) lounges on the deck, drinking. HARWOOD plays the violin.

CORNER: And if only all nights could be as fair as this one.

FEATHERSTONE: Then this night wouldn’t be fair. It would be bloody ordinary.

MARY: (to HARWOOD) You can put that down, you know. Come drink with us.

FEATHERSTONE: Hey now, Read, Harwood owes me one—don’t go ruining it.

CORNER: What is this we’re celebrating? How our luck has turned around?

FEATHERSTONE: Making that fisherwoman shit herself yesterday? Can’t believe we bothered with her—

CORNER: (to MARY) Did you see the way she looked at you and Anne?

MARY: She crossed herself twice.

ANNE: What I’d like to know is what we’re going to do with that fortune in the hold. It’s far more than a thousand pounds now—

CORNER: A thousand pounds!

FEATHERSTONE: A thousand pounds!

CORNER: Take that you fucking fucks!

MARY: (calling) Harwood! Come sit down. Drink.

She thrusts out a drink for him. He stops playing, takes it and sits.

CORNER: I’ve been thinking… I’d like to go sit on an island. Maybe Cuba. Cuba’s a good place. Hey, Anne—d’you think Isabela would fancy me?

ANNE: I don’t know, how’s your Spanish?

CORNER: No poder hablar Español…? [I can’t speak Spanish.]

ANNE: Then you’ve got a problem.

MARY: What of you, Featherstone?

FEATHERSTONE: Ah, shit. How should I know? But I know what Harwood’ll do—

HARWOOD: Oh, shut up— 122

FEATHERSTONE: He’ll send his share to Nancy. (ruffles HARWOOD’S hair) Like he always does.

CORNER: Ah, Nancy’s a good lass.

FEATHERSTONE: Yeah.

CORNER: If Isabela won’t fancy me, d’you think Nancy will?

MARY: Who’s Nancy?

HARWOOD: She’s… Well, she’s the closest thing to a mum I have. She didn’t want me to come out here, but she’s had no money since my father—well...

ANNE: Andrew Gibson. He was our sailing master before you.

HARWOOD: Got himself caught by a mob of villagers looking to collect a reward. They sent him off to Spanish Town. Lawes strung him up.

CORNER: Good fellow.

FEATHERSTONE: Good man. Took this one in when he was a tiny little thing.

CORNER: Made us swear we’d look after the boy if anything should happen to him.

MARY: I’m sure he’d be proud of you, Noah. Of the man you’ve become.

CORNER: And you, Read? What’re you gonna do?

MARY: I go where the wind and tide take me.

FEATHERSTONE: Ah, come on. Keep going the way you are and someday you’ll be made captain.

MARY snorts with laughter.

MARY: And what crew would truly follow a woman?

HARWOOD: Us.

FEATHERSTONE: Give yourself more credit, Read.

CORNER: Besides… you’re barely a woman.

MARY: And you’re drunk. 123

She gets up, having spotted RACKHAM, who has entered, watching the CREW solemnly. He calls out to her.

RACKHAM: Sharing a drink, telling tales, making jokes—I had that once.

MARY: Go join your men, Rackham.

RACKHAM: No. (he drinks) My oldest friend is calling for my retirement, the woman I love won’t have me, and I think… well, shit. (pause) Who would have thought it would come to this, eh?

MARY: Go join your men.

RACKHAM: Do me one thing, Read.

MARY: What?

RACKHAM: Forgive Anne.

RACKHAM leaves, crossing the deck to finally join the CREW. ANNE joins MARY.

ANNE: What was that?

MARY: I have no idea.

FEATHERSTONE: Hey, Harwood! Play us something!

HARWOOD plays. ANNE suddenly seizes MARY’S hands, pulling her around as she laughs with mirth.

MARY: What – what are you doing?

ANNE: Dance with me.

MARY: What?

ANNE: Come on, Mary! Tonight there are no battles to be fought. It’s just us – and the moon – and the stars—

ANNE kisses her.

MARY: He said I should forgive you. Why would he say that?

Pause. 124

ANNE: I don’t know.

MARY: Anne—

ANNE: Mary, Mary—this world has so many ways to knock us down, but you and me. We’re invincible. Don’t forget that.

MARY: So it’s you and me against the world?

ANNE: Always. Dance with me.

MARY finally gives in and dances with ANNE. The CREW watch. (If the piece is something that can be sung along to, the CREW can descend into drunken singing). RACKHAM drinks.

CORNER: (to RACKHAM) You’ve lost her.

RACKHAM: She made her choice, I made mine.

He raises his drink.

To this company, gentlemen. May our fortune last.

Without warning, a voice booms out from across the water.

MALE VOICE: You at anchor! Name yourself!

HARWOOD: Who is that?

FEATHERSTONE: What kind of bastard tries to hail another ship at this hour of the night?

CORNER: CAN’T YOU WAIT ‘TIL MORNING, YOU—

MALE VOICE: Name yourself, or we shall have no choice but to fire upon you!

RACKHAM: John Rackham from Cuba!

MALE VOICE: If that is so, I order you to strike the flag of the King of England!

MARY: Fucking hell—

ANNE: Pirate hunters—

RACKHAM: We will strike no strikes, sir!

125

Pause. Cannon fire. Stumbling, the CREW draw their weapons.

CORNER: Jesus fucking Christ—

HARWOOD: How did they find us?

RACKHAM: Someone get to that fucking gun and return fire! Now!

Cannon fire. Red light washes the stage.

COMPANY: One lucky shot.

RACKHAM: So this is how it ends.

COMPANY: One lucky shot.

RACKHAM: Taken by surprise.

COMPANY:s One lucky shot.

RACKHAM: It’s all dust and ash now.

Cannon fire. Breaking of ship timbres.

RACKHAM: (throwing down his weapons) Quarter! Quarter! We call for quarter!

ANNE: What the fuck are you doing—!

RACKHAM: You’ll surrender if you want to live. Get below—now! ALL OF YOU!

ANNE: You fucking idiots!

MARY: Anne, they’re sending men.

ANNE: You bastards! You cowards!

MARY: Anne, they’re preparing to board.

ANNE: Come back! COME BACK!

MARY: Anne—ANNE!

Pause. ANNE and MARY stand, abandoned, among the fallen blades of their comrades.

MARY: They’re coming. 126

ANNE draws her sword. MARY does, too.

ANNE: I’m no fucking coward.

MARY: Neither am I.

They stand back-to-back. When RACKHAM’S banner finally falls, it tumbles down upon them.

Blackout.

[END OF ACT TWO]

127

ACT THREE

SCENE ONE

November 28, 1720. Admiralty Court. Spanish Town, Jamaica. LAWES presides. ANNE and MARY stand as they were before.

LAWES: As you cannot produce any witnesses in your defence, I have no choice but to find you guilty. For your crimes, the punishment is death.

The CROWD cheers. LAWES gestures for silence.

But before the sentence of death is passed upon you, I am required to ask: have you any reason this sentence should not be passed?

ANNE and MARY remain silent. The CROWD calls for their death.

Then if you have nothing to say, I hereby proclaim that you are adjudged and sentenced to be carried back to the place from whence you came, thence to the place of execution, and there, within the flood marks, be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the Lord in his infinite wisdom have mercy—

ANNE/MARY: Wait!

MARY: Wait.

ANNE: Wait.

MARY: We have something to say.

SCENE TWO

November 17, 1720. Spanish Town gaol. ANNE and MARY’s prison cell. Small, cramped, dimly lit. Bars. No window. MARY sits. ANNE paces.

ANNE: Stupid fucking bastard… stupid fucking bastard… stupid fucking bastard…

ANNE repeats this mantra over and over again until it escalates into a violent scream. MARY seizes her and shakes her.

MARY: Stop! Jesus Christ, would you stop!

ANNE doesn’t stop. MARY tackles her. They both go down quickly.

ANNE: Get off – get off – GET OFF!

128

They scuffle. MARY wins.

MARY: Will you stop screaming?

ANNE: This is a prison. Everyone screams.

MARY: Waste of strength.

ANNE: If they’re going to kill us anyway, why did they offer quarter?

MARY: There has to be a trial.

ANNE: They didn’t bother to stick Blackbeard in prison. They shot him and cut off his head.

MARY: Do you want them to shoot you and cut off your head?

Pause.

MARY: Write to your father. He’s a fucking lawyer, isn’t he?

ANNE: He disowned me—

MARY: But if he learned his estranged daughter was being held in prison—

ANNE: William Cormac is a cold-hearted bastard. Forget him.

A man’s shadow falls across them.

MARY: What the fuck are you looking at?

The door to the cell clangs open. Food thrown in. It is only enough for one. The door clangs shut.

MARY: Hey! HEY! You forgot something—!

ANNE shoves her hand over MARY’S mouth, muffling her.

ANNE: Shut up. Stop talking.

MARY throws ANNE off. She reaches for the food and offers half to ANNE, who refuses it. MARY eats.

ANNE: The warden’s eyes are on you.

MARY: He’s heard the stories. Who wouldn’t want to fuck a pirate woman? 129

ANNE: Then don’t speak to him. Eventually he’ll get bored.

MARY: He’ll think I’m weak—is that really any better?

ANNE: If he touches you, I’ll kill him—

MARY: You better do nothing, Anne, because without that warden, there’s just you and me and this fucking cell.

Pause.

ANNE: Why haven’t they taken us to trial?

MARY: (wearily) I don’t know.

ANNE: They’ve forgotten us—we’re going to rot in here until we die—

She chokes, heaves and vomits. MARY goes to her side and gently helps her, holding her hair back.

MARY: We’re not going to die in here. We’ll find a way out.

ANNE: And what of the others? In this grand scheme of yours, are you going to rescue them, too? The fucking cowards who left us to die?

MARY: They’re dead.

ANNE: Not Jack. Not yet. I’d know.

MARY: How?

ANNE: That bastard’s not going to his grave until he knows how much I’m suffering for his mistake. (pause) I have to see him. I have to tell him…

Pause. MARY stands. She begins unbuttoning her shirt, trying to enhance her sexual appeal as much as she can.

MARY: You want to see that stupid fucking bastard one last time? Then you’ll see him.

ANNE: Mary, no—

MARY: Hey! Warden! I want a word!

SCENE THREE 130

November 18, 1720. Spanish Town gaol. RACKHAM’S cell. RACKHAM kneels on the floor in chains—pale, sickly, diminished. ANNE stands before him.

RACKHAM: Anne.

ANNE spits on him.

RACKHAM: I gather it took some convincing to get them to let you come here. That’s a lot of work just to spit on a man.

ANNE: You fucking coward. You ran. You let drunken fear get the better of you and you left me and Mary to fight off twenty-six men!

RACKHAM: We were finished the moment Barnet hailed our ship—

ANNE: I would rather have died aboard that ship with you at my side than ever see the walls of this cesspool!

RACKHAM: This is what becomes of us. In choosing this life, you chose the means of your death.

ANNE: I never chose this life! You took me. You took me in every way possible, an impressionable / young girl, all alone—

RACKHAM: Don’t make me out to be the villain, I loved you then—

ANNE: And now I doubt you ever cared for me at all.

Pause.

RACKHAM: Do you regret it, then? All of it? The ship, the sea, the freedom to make your own way—

ANNE: No. Never.

RACKHAM: I gave you that.

ANNE: Mary gave me that!

RACKHAM: And without me you would never have crossed her path. (pause) Do you hate me so much now that you wish we had never met?

Silence.

131

RACKHAM: Tell me, Anne. For God’s sake, tell me the truth of it—

ANNE: I am sorry to see you here. But if you had fought like a man, you need not die like a dog.

ANNE exits.

RACKHAM: Anne – Anne – ANNE!

SCENE FOUR

The scene is split between two places: ANNE and MARY’S prison cell, downstage, and Gallows Point, Jamaica, upstage.

CORNER, FEATHERSTONE, HARWOOD and RACKHAM stand in a line, their hands bound. Execution drums roll in the distance.

Light on CORNER.

CORNER: God damn it. God fucking damn it! I should’ve taken my share and ran, like any clever fellow. Retired to some big fat house, with a big, fat sum of gold and a big, fat mistress. Curse me for my loyalty to this crew. This fucking crew.

We’re gutless, every last one of us. Save for Read—and Anne.

We should have fought. We should have fought. We should have—!

Light out. CORNER has been hanged.

In their cell, ANNE stumbles, weeping as she retches. MARY tries to help her.

MARY: This is no worse than sailing through a storm, it will pass—

ANNE: I left him in there, Mary. I tore his heart out and I left him there and I – I didn’t tell him… And now he’ll hang, not knowing—

MARY: Not knowing what?

ANNE: Don’t leave me, Mary. Please.

MARY: Never.

ANNE: They’re going to kill us. What kind of pirate gets a reprieve?

Pause. 132

MARY: Maybe we don’t have to wait for the courts. Maybe we can settle this ourselves. The warden—

ANNE: You’ve let him do enough to you.

MARY: It was payment. It got you to Rackham.

ANNE: It wasn’t worth the cost.

Light on FEATHERSTONE.

FEATHERSTONE: Fuck you, Jack. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? And we get to die for it.

All this, for your fucking arrogance. All this, for a woman who—in the end— didn’t care for you at all. I pray to God that the name Jack Rackham is forgotten forever.

Burn in hell—!

Light out on FEATHERSTONE. He has been hanged.

ANNE: You can’t bargain with that warden again, I won’t let you—

MARY: Unless you think we can claw our way out of here, we don’t have a choice.

ANNE: There’s another way.

MARY: Oh, so now you say so? Spit it out.

ANNE: You’re going to hate me for it.

MARY: Tell me.

ANNE: Plead your belly. Convince them you have a child growing inside you and by law they must spare you. They’ll keep you imprisoned, but it will buy you time.

MARY: Fucking wonderful! Except there’s no way in hell I can be pregnant.

ANNE: They don’t know that. They’ll send someone to examine you. If they catch you lying, they’ll hang you straight aways, but sometimes… Sometimes they get it wrong.

MARY: I won’t hang my life on a “sometimes”, Anne. 133

ANNE: There’s no other way.

MARY: So, this is what you’re going to do? Claim you’re pregnant and hope for the best?

ANNE: I have nothing to claim.

Pause.

MARY: Oh, Christ. Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ—!

Light on HARWOOD.

HARWOOD: The first time I saw a man die was here, at Gallows Point. Some gnarly old man who’d murdered someone. And the crowds were cheering and when it was done, I thought, “He got what he deserved.”

Now I’m here again. But on the other side. The wrong side.

I didn’t kill no one who wasn’t trying to kill me!

Oh God… Last time I was here, I was a boy, I’ve never… I haven’t… We were just doing what we had to, we were just doing what we had to, we were—!

Light out on HARWOOD. He has been hanged.

MARY: You slept with him, you went and slept with him—?!

ANNE: I’m sorry—

MARY: No, no, you don’t get to say that. (pause) How long? How long have you been lying?!

ANNE: It was after we took the Mary and Sarah. I… I didn’t think—

MARY: No. Of course you didn’t. When do you ever think?!

ANNE: That’s not fair.

MARY: Neither is this. (pause) Maybe you are just the whore everyone said you were.

ANNE: I’ve only ever given myself to three people. James, Jack—and you. I suppose love is what makes a whore.

134

Pause.

MARY: Did you tell him? Rackham—did you tell him about it?

ANNE shakes her head.

MARY: Christ, Anne.

ANNE: Couldn’t get it out. It got stuck, words get stuck—!

MARY: All right—all right. Enough.

Pause.

ANNE: I know I’ve hurt you—

MARY: It’s not what you’ve done that hurts. What hurts is that you taught me what it was like to trust, to touch, to be held by another. What hurts is that by returning to him, you’ve left me in the dust. What hurts is that even though I gave you all that I am, I know it’ll never be enough for you.

ANNE: But you are – you are enough for me—

MARY: He was your husband in every way, except in name. He’s the father of your child—of that child. I can never compare to that.

ANNE: He’s dead, Mary. Dead. And this child—it’s not the saviour you think it is.

Pause.

MARY: Why didn’t you tell me?

ANNE: Because at first I didn’t know, and then I did know, and by then it was too late.

MARY: Not the child. You…and him. Why didn’t you tell me?

ANNE: I was afraid.

Light on RACKHAM.

The drums roll. The drums roll. The drums roll.

RACKHAM: Well, then.

Blackout. 135

The drums cease. RACKHAM has been hanged. The COMPANY is dead.

SCENE FIVE

Spanish Town, Jamaica. LAWES’ study. He composes a letter.

LAWES: Rogers:

It is done. The men who have done so much harm have been punished accordingly for their crimes. No reprieves. It was the usual sentence for them.

John Rackham is no more. The crows can have their fill of him. He’s chained and gibbetted out on Deadman’s Cay—though I hear fishermen and sailors are now calling it “Rackham’s Cay”. His body will serve to discourage his depraved trade and keep the trade routes clean. What we have accomplished goes hand in hand with that charming little saying you have in the Bahamas – Expulsis piratis, comercia restitua. “Pirates expelled, commerce restored.”

SCENE SIX

ANNE and MARY’S cell. ANNE lies crumpled on the floor. MARY sits.

ANNE: How many days?

MARY: I don’t know. We won’t know anything until the trial.

ANNE: The trial, the trial, the fucking trial…

MARY: There must be some reason for its delay.

ANNE viciously beats her stomach. MARY seizes her hands.

MARY: What are you doing? Stop—stop!

ANNE: I want it gone! I want it out!

MARY: You can’t! This child will save your life, you said as much yourself—

ANNE: Why do you care? You’ve made it clear I’m not worth your while.

MARY: Do you honestly want to die?

ANNE: There’s nothing here for me.

MARY: Jesus, what’s happened to you? 136

ANNE: I am what you… what you and Jack made me.

MARY: Do you want me to say it, huh? I’ll say it. I forgive you. I forgive you—!

ANNE: I don’t believe you.

MARY: I need you, Anne. I need the woman I fell in love with. I need her spirit, her outright recklessness—

ANNE: I want to die. I’d rather they snap my neck tomorrow than condemn myself to giving birth in prison.

This thing inside me… I didn’t ask for it. I never wanted it. It’ll tear me open, it’ll kill me—I don’t want this curse, this hell, not again!

MARY: But you do have it. If I were you, I would make use of this chance—

ANNE: I don’t care—

MARY: I would do whatever I had to—

ANNE: I don’t care—

MARY: If it meant I had a way to survive this—

ANNE: I DON’T CARE! I DON’T CARE! I DON’T CARE!

Silence.

MARY: You aren’t alone. I promised I wouldn’t leave you.

ANNE: My mother loved me—and she died. James Bonny loved me—and he died. Jack Rackham loved me—and he died. When’s your turn, Mary Read?

MARY: Not today. I’m pleading my belly, and so are you.

ANNE: Then I’ll pray the examiner they send is an idiot, so you don’t get caught in a lie.

MARY: I don’t plan on lying.

ANNE: Christ, Mary, you’ve gone mad—

MARY: This is a prison. Everyone’s mad!

137

ANNE: You’ll only be giving that warden what he wants.

MARY: And he’ll be giving me what I want. Fair trade.

ANNE: This is not a fair trade—

MARY: This way, we both get to keep on living—

ANNE: You’re headed into hell.

MARY: We’re already there.

MARY begins to adjust her clothing, as she did before.

ANNE: And where’s this insanity supposed to happen? Right here? Right now? In this cell? In front of me? (pause) Do you really hate me that much?

MARY: No. Never. But it’s better to be hated than dead.

SCENE SEVEN

ANNE and MARY’S cell. Only ANNE in light.

ANNE: There is much to fear, for a woman in prison.

The piercing cold, the ravenous hunger, the cries in the dark. The lingering eyes of the men who guard you. All of it… it bites and bites and bites away at you until all that you once were is gone. And all that remains is a shadow.

This violation of her own being, of her body and soul—she has done this to herself. Last chance. Last resort. Last recourse. Last, last, last. So I would never have to be alone.

Oh, Mary, Mary, what have you done?

MARY cries out.

We thought ourselves untouchable once. And now I don’t know what you are anymore.

ANNE bows her head, covers her ears, closes her eyes and curls inwards upon herself.

SCENE EIGHT

138

November 28, 1720. Admiralty Court. Spanish Town, Jamaica. LAWES presides. ANNE and MARY stand. The CROWD roars in confusion and anger.

LAWES: Lord knows we’ve wasted enough time with this farce. Say what you must and say it quickly.

MARY: I plead my belly.

ANNE: As do I.

LAWES: You—what?

MARY: I plead my belly.

ANNE: As do I.

LAWES: I’m afraid I—

MARY: Oh, for Christ’s sake – we’re pregnant! By law, you can’t fucking hang us!

Uproar from the CROWD.

LAWES: Silence! SILENCE! (to MARY) Miss Read, you have held your tongue all this time, surely you can hold it again until you are asked to answer a direct question. What is it that you are trying to say? Formally, so the court can hear?

MARY: I plead for the life of my unborn child and I pray that my sentence might be stayed – sir.

ANNE: As do I.

Pause.

LAWES: In cases such as this, an inspection must be made. Until then, you are granted a stay of execution. (off) Take them back to their cell.

Uproar in the CROWD.

SCENE NINE

ANNE and MARY’S cell. Only MARY in light.

MARY: When I was a child, my brother died. My brother Matthew.

139

He wanted to be a solider. Like all upstanding young gentlemen, he wanted to fight for God, King and country. And so he started with me.

The lashings Rackham gave me are nothing compared to the scars plied upon me by my own blood. Years of broken teeth and blackened eyes and torn flesh and never having the choice to say “no, never again”. Because I was a frightened little girl and he was my brother.

And he wouldn’t stop… he wouldn’t stop… he wouldn’t stop…

So I drowned him in the sea.

My body is a tapestry of what others have done, a history bound in flesh instead of thread. And only Anne has seen it all. My Anne. My brave, beautiful soul. For you, I will do anything, because without you, I am nothing more than a shadow.

Succumb, to endure. Submit, to persevere. Surrender, to triumph.

I did this to myself. Not you. I.

I did.

I.

SCENE TEN

April 1721. ANNE and MARY’S cell. Both women are visibly pregnant. MARY sits. ANNE sings (“Siúil a Rún”).

ANNE: (singing) I wish I was on yonder hill ‘Tis there I’d sit and cry my fill And every tear would turn a mill.

I’ll sell my rod, I’ll sell my reel I’ll sell my only spinning wheel To buy my love a sword of steel.

I’ll dye my petticoats, I’ll dye them red And ‘round the world I’ll beg my bread Until my parents should wish me dead—

MARY: Anne. Please—

Suddenly, she retches. ANNE goes to help her.

140

MARY: How do you stand this?

ANNE: Poorly.

She groans in pain.

ANNE: Childbirth won’t be easy.

MARY: I’ve survived worse.

ANNE gasps a little in pain and surprise.

MARY: What?

ANNE: Nothing. (placing a hand on her stomach) Mine’s… moving.

MARY: Mine’s not.

ANNE: It will.

MARY: When?

ANNE: When it wants.

MARY: Stubborn fool. (pause) What will you do? Once you leave this place—

ANNE: There’s no leaving.

MARY: There may be. If you write to your father. Promise me you will. It’s the only way you have a chance at seeing the sun again.

ANNE: …I promise.

MARY: Good. (pause) Now tell me what you’ll do when they release you.

ANNE: There’s no point in this.

Pause.

ANNE: I… I think I’ll sleep in a proper bed.

MARY: With pillows.

ANNE: Eat a hot meal.

MARY: As long as it’s not gruel. 141

ANNE: Chicken.

MARY: Mm.

ANNE: Or beef!

MARY: Black pudding.

ANNE: That’s disgusting.

MARY: I’m English.

Pause.

MARY: I want to sit on the deck of a ship, at night. Our ship I want to hear the creak of the timbres, the swell of the waves, the wind in the sails. One more time.

ANNE smiles and gently kisses her. She pauses, then worriedly presses a hand to MARY’S face.

ANNE: Mary, you’re on fire.

MARY: I’m fine.

MARY curls up, her head in ANNE’S lap. ANNE strokes her hair.

MARY: Did I do the right thing? All this… This doesn’t feel like the right thing.

ANNE: Shh. (pause) I can see it, Mary. That ship in the harbour. Our ship. And just the two of us.

Or maybe… the four of us. Us and two daughters. Making our way, however we want, wherever we want. They’d be like sisters. There’d be so much they could do, so much we could show them. And we would be…

She looks down at MARY. MARY doesn’t move. ANNE shakes her. She doesn’t wake.

Mary. Mary? No… no. Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me…

ANNE clings to MARY’S body.

SCENE ELEVEN

142

June 1721. Spanish Town, Jamaica. LAWES’ study. LAWES composes a letter.

LAWES: To William Cormac, Esq.:

As I have written before, your estranged daughter is a condemned criminal. She is a thief, a murderer and a pirate and now that she has given birth, she is to be hanged. It is a matter of principle.

However, there can be exceptions to every rule. She is young, after all, and the fury of youth can be partly to blame for her actions. If you are certain you want her returned to you, an acceptable payment can be arranged.

There is a condition: you must take her back to Charleston at once and make certain she never again sets foot on another ship in her life. I suggest you find her a respectable man to keep watch over her as soon as possible.

You daughter is very lucky to have a father so willing to forgive her. The other woman was not so fortunate.

SCENE TWELVE

ANNE, alone. She is no longer in her pirate’s affair. She wears a plain, almost conservative, dress. It has been some years.

ANNE: It was your child that killed you. Or so they said. The child you never wanted, the child you forced on yourself so we both could live. An impossible solution for an impossible situation.

I thought you were invincible. But you weren’t. None of us were. We were only human, bound by the very nature that God granted us.

I found that ship in the harbour. Our ship. And every day, I sit and I listen to the creak of the timbres, the swell of the waves, and the wind in the sails. And sometimes, when I walk this deck, I see you. I see all of you.

Slowly, the ghosts of ANNE’S former COMPANY appear and surround her.

All ghosts. All memories. Remembered only by me and few records of trial. That’s all you are now, like hundreds before you. Names buried in a graveyard of ink. But it doesn’t take much to go back to another time. I can still laugh with you, I can still drink with you, and sometimes I can still hear Harwood’s violin reaching for the stars.

HARWOOD begins to play “The Parting Glass” on his violin.

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I tell my children of you. My son, John, once abandoned, now found. My daughter, Mary, who began her life in the pits of hell. My children. (to RACKHAM) Our children. (to MARY) And yours. Perhaps not by blood, but by something just as strong. They will know how they came to be in this world. They will know all that we have done. For they came from me, and I was made by you.

When they go out into this world, I will tell my children a storm is coming. Do not fear it. It will pass. You will weather it, and you will be stronger than before. For you live in this world, and though it is harsh and though it is cruel, you are loved.

ANNE joins the COMPANY in song, one final time (“The Parting Glass.”)

COMPANY: (singing) Of all the money that e’er I had I spent it in good company And all the harm I’ve ever done Alas it was to none but me

And all I’ve done for want of wit To mem’ry now I can’t recall So fill to me the parting glass Goodnight and joy be to you all.

Of all the comrades that e’er I had They’re sorry for my going away And all the sweethearts that e’er I had They’d wish me one more day to stay

But since it fell unto my lot That I should rise and you should not I gently rise and softly call Goodnight and joy be to you all

Goodnight and joy be to you all.

[END OF PLAY]