The Unbinding of Mary Reade

by Miriam McNamara

  Nat squatted in front of her. “You’ve got to come! Johnny’s still looking for able men that can leave in the morn, and I know you’re as wild to get out of here as I am. I’ll vouch for you—he’s sure to take you on!”

  Nat wanted her to come. Even if it was just as his mate.

  “Mark,” Nat said. “You living in Westminster—it got you out of Wapping, but you’re still Mark Reade. Your Granny’s still breathing down your neck, and your mum’s still a drunk, and that’ll never change.”

  “Aye, that’s bloody well true,” Mary said bitterly.

  “You sail to the other side of the world—you could be anyone you want!”

  Mary’s heart started to beat faster.

  “We could find our fortune.” He nudged her. “Buy our island.”

  She nudged him back. “Find you a parrot to sit on your shoulder.”

  He laughed. “Aye! Exactly.”

  The New World—and Nat would be with her. Mary would get out before Granny or the constable came after her.

  She looked at Nat. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut was so hopeful, so black and deep and promising. She let herself imagine running her hand along his jaw, across his bottom lip. Pushing the hair from his forehead.

  She rose to her feet and banged the table. “I’m in, mate. Let’s get the bloody hell out of this city!”

  He cheered. “That’s it! That’s the spirit!”

  When she laughed it sounded almost like crying, coming from somewhere breathless and deep inside her chest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ISLA DE COTORRAS—1719

  “MY NAME IS MARY READE,” SHE SAID. “I’VE LIVED AS A BOY ALL ME LIFE, but it don’t change what I was born. What I am, still.”

  She couldn’t look at anyone. Not Anne, not Jack or Bill, and certainly not Paddy. “I joined your crew under false pretenses, sir, and for that I’m sorry. But what Anne said was true; I am no man. She knew this when I came to her tent.” Mary’s face went hot as she remembered Anne sighing against her lips—but that didn’t matter.

  Silence descended, broken by a few uncertain birdcalls from the jungle behind them. The brands popped and hissed around her as the men drew closer.

  “What is this?” Jack said finally, to Anne. “Some scheme of yours?”

  “It’s no scheme, but the truth,” said Anne. “She revealed her sex to me when you left, so as to better comfort me in your absence.”

  “I don’t believe it,” he said, but the pistol wavered, dropped a bit.

  “Believe it or not,” said Mary. “I am no boy.”

  “Didn’t I tell you it could be done?” Anne gestured grandly, her voice growing stronger. “It’s something I should’ve done meself, then I wouldn’t have been so dependent on you bloody lot living up to me expectations—sure, I could’ve been captain!”

  They both might survive the night. “Oh, you wouldn’t have fooled a soul,” Mary said, exasperated. “Haven’t I told you? Jack was right about that.” She stared pointedly at Jack, willing him to go along with this. All he needed was an excuse to forgive Anne.

  There was shuffling and murmuring from the men.

  “Aye,” said Jack. He sounded bewildered by the turn of events. “Sure you’re too much woman to wear britches and pass for a lad …” Then it seemed to hit him, how this might change things. He lowered the pistol. “Annie! Sure, leave it to you to spring a surprise such as this!” He laughed with relief and pulled her in for a kiss.

  “Girl or not,” said Bill, “there’s nothing natural about—that—” He pointed to Mary, as if struggling to name something he’d never seen before. The circle fell silent again. “What I mean is—how could someone like that offer comfort, except in some unnatural way? I saw how they lay together, when they was discovered.”

  “Aye,” said someone, with a note of titillation. “It didn’t look innocent to me, neither.” The circle of men shifted and a lewd comment or two escaped. Someone laughed.

  Mary’s stomach curdled. Bill knew what he’d seen and it was wrong, whether she was a boy or not. Even more wrong, since she wasn’t.

  “I don’t like what you’re getting at, Billy boy,” Anne growled.

  “You can’t wiggle your pretty arse out of this one,” Bill said. “She was straddling you, and kissing—they was kissing, I saw it!” He pointed a finger at Jack. “You saw it, too.”

  “I—” Mary started, but she couldn’t think of an argument. Bile rose in her throat.

  “I was giving her love advice,” said Anne. The words sounded smaller than the ones before. The popping of the brands almost drowned her out.

  “Were you now.” Bill folded his arms.

  “Oh-ho, is Mark-the-girl sweet on someone?” asked Jack, ignoring Bill. Anyone could see he was desperate to have the men buy into Anne’s version of the story. “The unfortunate tosser, a dog like that on his heels!”

  “She’s not a dog, no matter that she don’t look a proper girl,” snapped Anne. “I know for a fact half the crew was sweet on her, even when they thought she was a boy.” There was a bit of laughter at that, and then a wolfish whistle that made Mary start nervously.

  “I saw them when we came up, captain,” said Bill. “That weren’t no friendly advice she was giving. I knows an act of passion when I sees one.”

  “Aye,” said Tommy Snipes. “I saw it, too.”

  Jack looked at Anne.

  She smiled up through her lashes as she took his hand. “Sure, what do you think a girl could do for me, after having a man like you?”

  Mary’s chest tightened, but she held still. Mind blank. Face pleasant.

  Jack puffed up. “Well now that I know Mark’s a girl, I don’t mind the looks of this situation so much as I did.” He twirled his pistol jauntily and slid it into his waistband. He looked at Mary and rubbed his chin. “In fact, I might not mind the looks of it if I saw it again.”

  “Well I mind it more so,” said Bill, as a few of the men chuckled.

  “Listen, I’m willing to get rid of Mark-the-girl, if it’ll calm you down a bit,” Jack cracked.

  “You won’t, either.” Paddy’s voice startled everyone, it came out so strong. “She’s done nothing here but try to get along. Just as we’re all trying to do.” The last bit came out as more of a mutter, but there were men that nodded their agreement. His words made Mary’s heart leap—he was still on her side, despite her betrayal. But Anne remained silent, curled safely under Jack’s arm, content just to watch now that she wasn’t in danger.

  Jack nodded. “All right then, I’ll forgive the chap—er, lass, what comforted my lady in my absence. So long as the story is true.” He strode and held out his hand, and Mary took it.

  Jack pulled her in and lifted her shirt.

  There were whistles all around. Mary swallowed a gasp, but didn’t look down as Jack studied her. She made her face as impassive as Bill’s. She was stone, a statue, though her eyes flicked to Paddy’s as the men crowded close.

  “What do you think, boys?” Jack asked, stepping back so that everyone could see her bound chest. “Does it look to you devils as if there’s a lass under there?”

  “I think ye need to check and make sure,” someone called.

  “Come off it,” Paddy said. “You know she is, else why would she be bound like that?” Mary’s throat tightened. She would smile at him, she would thank him for that, if it wasn’t so important that she stayed completely still.

  Jack pulled a knife from his waist and laid it flat against Mary’s stomach. The cold metal burned as he slowly moved it up, catching the edge of the linen, tugging upward against the blade until it split. One strip—then the next, and the next, until the whole binding unspooled and dropped to the ground.

  Jack stepped back, clearing his throat as he gestured to her body with a flourish. “Seems she’s a lady after all, gentlemen.”

  Men’s voices raised around her in hollers and shouts, whistles and laughter.

  “That ain’
t so convincing!” someone called. “Ye need to check better than that!”

  Mary’s eyes met Anne’s—and Anne smiled. Slowly, she clapped her hands together. Once, twice. Applauding Mary’s performance. Then Anne grabbed Jack’s hand and leaned against him. “There you go, now that that’s over with. I missed you so much.” She tipped her chin up, her mouth tempting and sweet. “But don’t think I’m going to forgive you, just like that.”

  Mary’s mouth fell open.

  “Aye?” said Jack. He dropped Mary’s shirt, put away his knife, and pulled Anne close. “I’ve got a few ideas for how I could convince you.”

  Anger flared in Mary’s stomach as Anne nuzzled into Jack’s shoulder, pressing her whole body to his as he kissed the top of her head. It wasn’t just about the kiss they’d shared, although the sensation of it still burned in Mary’s skin—as did the memory of the gun Jack had held to her head.

  “Isn’t it mad that she’s a girl, and you never would have guessed it?” Anne laughed. “Come here, you—” She pulled Jack’s face in and kissed him deeply. “You know there’s no one else for me but you,” she said, hanging around his neck.

  “It’s still not right,” said Bill, raising his voice. “I know what I saw.”

  Mary looked at Bill, lip curling, then back at Anne. They could both go to hell. “Jack,” Mary said, squaring her shoulders. “Are we going to Nassau for that pardon or not? You should know you have me vote.”

  The shock that wiped the sugar-sweet softness from Anne’s eyes warmed Mary’s heart. The men fell quiet, their eyes landing on her. Then flicking to Bill. Then Jack.

  “Aye, you have mine as well!” someone said. “We’ve had a good run, but it’s only a matter of time before our luck turns.” There were a few more ayes, and Jack started to nod slowly.

  “The votes don’t matter,” said Bill loudly. “I made my case to Jack, and he’s come around.”

  A few voices rose to agree with Bill as well.

  Anne pushed Jack away. “Is that right? You want to go to Hispaniola and live with the pigs?”

  “You know what?” Jack sounded exasperated. “You and Bill have both pressed me enough. I’m still captain of this crew. What use are our riches if the only people who’ll risk trading with us are peasants with cassava and a couple of chickens? Still sleeping under sailcloth on the ground—no matter if it’s this island, Hispaniola, or some godforsaken atoll, it hasn’t been the same since we lost New Providence.” Everyone was silent, light flickering on the whites of their eyes.

  “What are you saying, Jack?” Bill said warily.

  “Yes, Jack,” said Anne, a tremble in her voice. “What are you saying?”

  Jack put a hand on his pistol. “We’re going to Nassau to beg pardon—and before anyone challenges me, you’d best be sure you have the votes. Or you’re a dead man, mark my words.”

  Mary smiled. Bill and Anne could rot in hell. She’d be in Nassau soon enough.

  Bill sighed. “I was elected to represent our crew’s interests, just like you.” He drew his flintlock as other men did the same, and he said, “Jack Rackham, I challenge you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ISLA DE COTORRAS—1719

  “I DON’T BELIEVE IT,” SAID JACK THROUGH HIS TEETH. “YOU HEARD THE men. They want the pardon.”

  “Those of us not interested in begging pardon won’t let you sail off with our shares, our ships, and our crew,” said Bill. “What, did you think I was of a mind to start over in a jolly boat and work my way up again? Did you think I’d risk joining another crew, only to have them sell me with their merchandise when the money got tight?”

  “That’s too bad, Bill.” Jack slid his pistol from his belt. “I like you. I would have vouched for your freedom when we got to Nassau.”

  “I’ve relied on promises like that before from men like you,” said Bill. “And ended up in chains.”

  “I’m not going back to Nassau, either,” Anne said. “You make the same empty promises to me. I’d rather vote for Bill.”

  “You’ll go wherever I go,” Jack spat. “My promises are the only thing you’ve got.”

  “The lady doesn’t have a vote, anyway,” someone said.

  “Nor does that one,” said Bill, pointing at Mary, “now that we know what she is. So there goes one of your backers, Jack.”

  Mary’s jaw dropped. “I’m a member of this crew, just like anybody else!”

  “I can’t believe you!” Anne whirled on her. “After everything I told you, you still think we should beg pardon? You don’t deserve a vote.”

  Mary felt her cheeks flame hot. “I’m not like her,” she said loudly. “I’m not just the captain’s plaything. I’m the boy who shot his captain, and I deserve a vote.”

  Anne’s body went rigid, hands clenching to fists.

  “It’s a curious situation,” Jack mused. “Given the circumstances, I think Mary should get a vote.”

  “That’s because she’s on your side,” Bill said. “And you need all the votes you can get.”

  “I have plenty of support,” snarled Jack. “I don’t need her on my side. We can leave her out of it if you want.”

  Mary couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “You’re getting a sense of what it’s like for me now, aren’t you?” Anne asked, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

  “Come on, then,” said Bill. “Make sure everyone is gathered. We’ll meet down by the water once everyone’s accounted for and settle this.”

  Everyone started trailing off toward the shore. “Even if the vote doesn’t go your way, lovey” —Tommy Snipes leered at Mary as he passed—“I’m sure we could find you some sort of position on the crew.”

  Mary felt lightheaded. She crouched down, put her head on her knees and her hands in the sand, and waited for the world to stop spinning. She was someone else so suddenly. She couldn’t even begin to get her footing.

  A hand landed on her shoulder, light but solid. “You all right there, child?” Paddy’s voice was hoarse with concern.

  Mary hauled her head up. The lines of his forehead were worried, and his mouth was drawn down. He didn’t mind if she was Mark or Mary. He just wanted to know she was all right.

  “It’s not fair,” she said weakly. “I should have a say.”

  “Aye,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “You splice a line and mend a sail as well as any of them. You drink and eat and joke and fight and work as well as the rest of us. It ain’t right.”

  Her jaw began to tremble, her eyes starting to burn. She could hear in the way he cleared his throat that his was tight as well. “All the days I was away with Jack,” he said. “I worried about Mark. I worried about what that damned girl might have fooled him into thinking by the time we got back.” He chuckled lightly. “But looks as though ’twas a different girl taking us for fools all along.”

  She deserved to have him hate her. “I’m sorry,” she managed.

  “For what? Surviving? For being me mate all the way across the ocean? The fact you was such a light to me, that you was a friend despite your predicament, just makes me think more of you. I came to think of you as a son—but it’s just as easy to think of you as a daughter.”

  She inhaled slowly, her heart and lungs and stomach settling back into their proper places. “That brings me comfort,” she said. “Thank you.”

  He leaned close. “I’ll cast your vote for Jack, since you can’t. It doesn’t make it better, but I can do that much.”

  Mary’s pulse quickened at the thought of how quickly the crew had discounted her, but she forced herself to nod.

  He stood and offered his hand. “Give ’em a strong show tonight,” he advised, pulling her to her feet. “Make them believe you’re still the same person, all right? They’ll come around.” Paddy walked off to join the other men.

  Anne was rummaging beneath the ruined sailcloth tent, coming up with a bottle of wine. She watched Mary as she uncorked it, her cheek starting to swel
l where Jack had struck her. “I know you’re not used to it,” Anne said, “but this is what you do when you’re a girl. See what the men decide and then find a way to manage.” She put the bottle to her lips—the lips Mary had just kissed. Then she held it out. “Here, have a drink. I find it makes it a little easier.”

  Mary took the bottle, her hands trembling with anger. Then she turned it upside down and let it drain into the sand. “You’ll manage,” she said, looking Anne straight in the eye, “so long as you’ve got your man.” She dropped the bottle into the sand. “But I need my wits about me.”

  Anne stared at her for a moment, mouth open, then smirked as she slowly shook her head. “You’re scared now that everyone knows your secret?” she taunted.

  “I’m not scared,” said Mary evenly. “I’m just nothing like you.”

  She spun on her heel and walked away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ISLA DE COTORRAS—1719

  MARY WATCHED THE VOTE FROM JUST INSIDE THE TREE LINE. ALL THE men were gathered; even those who had been keeping watch from the brigs in the harbor had been notified and rowed ashore. The wind whipping off the water was growing cool, stars slowly being blacked out by gathering clouds. The fires burned brightly and the wine flowed. Mary clutched the bayonet she’d grabbed from her tent. Whether Jack won or not, she’d be ready to protect herself.

  Tommy and Cager went around to the fires one at a time. The men had divided themselves; at one fire, almost all the hands would raise in unison. Then, after they’d been counted, one or two men would lift a sheepish hand while the others looked on. But at the next fire, only a few would raise their hands at first, then the rest second. Mary counted feverishly along with Tommy and Cager, but she was too far away to know which vote was for whom. Sometimes, she’d think she did. At the fire closest to her she saw a vocal supporter of Bill raising his hand, and knew that everyone else raising their hand at the same time was for Bill. But most of the fires were too far away for her to make faces out. She’d just have to wait until the votes were in.