Excerpt: Bonny & Read by Julie Walker

Plantation owner's daughter, runaway wife, pirate – Anne Bonny has forged her own story in a man's world. But when she is involved in the capture of a British merchant ship, she is amazed to find another woman amongst the crew, with a history as unconventional as her own. Dressed as a boy from childhood, Mary Read has been a soldier, a sailor, a widow – but never a woman in charge of her own destiny.

As their exhilarating, tumultuous exploits find fame, the ballad of Bonny and Read is sung from shore to shore - but when you swim against the tide of history, freedom is a dangerous thing...

With an exclusive foreword for Unseen Histories by Julie Walker

It is 1720. The Golden Age of Piracy is in its prime, and pirates are the scourge of the Caribbean. Whilst the British Navy is on high alert to pursue and punish these rogue crews by public execution, a new rumour is rife. That Captain Jack Rackham travels with not one but two women as part of his crew – women who are just as terrifying as the men they call comrades. Anne Bonny has been a plantation owner’s daughter and runaway wife. Mary Read, dressed as a boy since childhood, has been a soldier, a sailor and a widow. Two extraordinary women, thrown together by Fate, must determine their future paths together in this world turned upside down.

— Julie Walker

Charlestown, South Carolina, 1718

An abridged excerpt from Bonny & Read by Julie Walker

It has been a filthy hot day, the night following suit. The sluggish silence is shattered by the sounds of a loud argument at the Cormac house. Moments later, to the music of breaking glass, Anne tears from the French windows, skirts bunched in her hands, long red hair streaming behind her as she races like a March hare across the lawn, the sounds of pistol fire ringing in her ears as she runs full pelt for her life, ragged-breached and laughing as vitriolic obscenities are hurled at her. 

Her father, the source of the fury, takes repeated drunken aim at the darting figure from the open doors, his only child, thank God, married without his knowledge or blessing earlier that day: And to a servant, of all things, this lesser person running in the wake of his dashing bride, sheer panic on his face as the gunfire continues, a hand held to his bleeding arm, where, against all odds, one of his father-in-law's bullets has glanced its target. 

This is typical of James Bonny's luck – something that his new wife will know soon enough. But for now she feels the exhilaration of chaos, the proximity of death, and the freedom of being Anne Cormac no longer. 

'You whore! You are your mother's daughter, and none of mine!' 

Her father's aim is not helped by a brandy-soaked afternoon and the insult of sudden betrayal, as he screams things to the running figure that a father should never utter to his only girl, things to terrify a man like James Bonny. 

'You think you'll get away so easily?' 

There are torches close behind, the smell of cordite in their nostrils, the thick air catching at their throats as they run, the cushioning grass soon giving way to the sharpness of parched soil as they reach the boundary wall. 

The roused servants have let loose the dogs, thinking perhaps that their master has disturbed thieves in the act, and the fugitives hear their snarling pursuit, drummed up by the mad excitement of William Cormac, who agitates the men and beasts to do them great harm. 

The dogs are fast and are already snapping at James Bonny's ankles as he frantically tries to climb beyond their reach, while Anne is halfway over the wall using a creeper that she has climbed since she was a child, her underthings on shameful view for all to see. After everything he has endured, it is almost her father's undoing. He falls to his knees, holding up his hands to the heavens and wailing: 

'And will you show your arse to the world too?' 

She hauls herself to the summit eight feet from the ground and salutes her father with the requisite number of fingers before swinging her legs over to the other side and, using the overhanging creeper, drops, landing unscathed and unladylike onto the road beyond. She soon joined by breathless and sweating James, who falls like bad fruit beside her, his eyes wide at the raw memory of recent insults to his person. 

'You smell worse than the dogs, James Bonny!' 

Her eyes are dancing, her face burning from her exertions, but he does not appreciate the joke. He had not realised when they married this morning that she was clearly quite mad.

'So that was your idea of breaking it to him gently, was it? Jesus, woman, I nearly lost an arm.' 

He holds out the limb in question to show her the scratch and suggestion of blood, already dried. 

'Sure enough, it wasn't your arm I was worried about.' Her glance and filthy smile suggest a softer target, and he rests his hands there to protect his treasures. Besides, it was broken as gently as it needed to be, for we don't need his money now that we have each other.' 

James's look suggests otherwise and she sees it at once. Her smile hardens; a hardness that will be difficult to shift. He will not be the man to do it. 

But at that moment the shouts of men and yelping of dogs on the other side of the gate grow louder at the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. 

Anne grins at James, eyes flashing. 

'We're not clear of this place yet. You'd better hope for your sake that you have breath left in you.' 

Anne hops from one foot to another, pulling stained satin slippers from her feet, before she sets to running again in earnest, throwing the shoes behind her into a ditch.

It is only when they are lost in the chaos of the port, breath slowing and sweat flowing freely, that they are able to slow down, sure now that they are not being followed. 

James looks at his new bride without affection as she takes stock of this new situation. 

'And what will become of us now? There is no money since you have ruined everything ...'

Anne doesn't listen to him finish – there is no need. He has killed her infatuation dead, and all that is left behind is the inconvenience of legal obligation. That she has saddled herself with a man like James Bonny, she will have time and cause enough to regret, but for now there is the immediate future to consider. 

It is inconceivable that the affair has gone sour after so promising a start. Stolen glances across a neighbour's drawing room; he forward and insolent for a mere servant. As the men retired for drinks, Anne had entertained herself with the footman with the indecent smile. The velvet uniform had suited him, though he looked better out of it; he had not been shy, and nor was she. He had bundled her into a cupboard only a week back with whispered promises, warm breath and lips upon her face and warmer fingers beneath her skirts, urgent and eager. In her haste to leave home, and their mutual delusions about the other, Cupid had smiled upon them. 

But in the few short hours that they have been joined in the eyes of God, Anne has found her husband disappointing in more ways than one. He is less exciting than she had expected; it's clear that their escape has been more terrifying than exhilarating to him. He is far less appealing now that the smiles and flattery have stopped. It is unfortunate that he is also more stupid than she had hoped. 

That he has managed to disappoint her in such a short space of time amazes her; that she is not the rich prize he hoped for amazes him. They are well matched, indeed. 

James is still waiting for an answer, his face red from exertion and temper, while Anne is pricked by feelings of dislike. 

'We shall go to sea, then. You'll get work soon enough, but after today it won't be here.' 

She will remember later how full of hope she still is, and curse herself for it. But here and now, their passage on the merchant ship is bought in exchange for the gold cross and chain Anne had worn for her wedding that morning. It had been stolen especially from her mother's jewellery box as she slept off her daily dose of laudanum, prescribed to cure her of sadness. It is an affliction Mrs Cormac has suffered from since she met Anne's father, and will hardly improve now. 

The ship is handsome against the horizon, ripe with promise. All ties with family, home and propriety now severed, Anne climbs the gangplank with great hopes for New Providence, the jewel of the Bahamas, she hopes. James follows sullenly in her wake.

The ship slips from port, the increasing dip and crest as she pushes out towards the expanse of ocean driving Charles Town further behind. The promise of the voyage, of a future not yet made, is all that Anne needs for now as she breathes in salt air, listening to the boom of waves against the hull as The Betty forges ahead. 

Anne is interrupted by one of the ship's mates, a hairy man with a cleft lip, who tells her gruffly to move as she is in his way. Against her better judgement, she follows the path her husband took earlier, descending into the twilight of the deck below down rickety stairs. The underbelly is lit by occasional lanterns, its air damp with sweat and scented with spices. 

They have been allocated a hammock each in an inhospitable corner of the lower deck. James has already taken to his, his back stubbornly turned towards her, a convenient deafness having taken hold of him when it comes to his new wife. 

Anne is distracted by the creaks and groans of the hull now that she is beneath sea level, the weight of the dark ocean beyond. She grips the rough rope of the hammock for balance before climbing in, allowing herself to be rocked and swayed by the motion of the sea. 

As the hours pass, Anne sleeps, dreaming of open expanses and glittering horizons, unaffected by the sickness that repeatedly wrenches the insides from James. She wakes refreshed and finds him ill and miserable. Were he someone else entirely she might have felt quite sorry for him. As it is, she is glad of it. 

Anne leaves her husband bemoaning his lot, spittle trailing from his mouth from the latest evacuation, a man bereft of hope as well as breakfast. He is a sorry sight and a poor excuse for a man – but it is no one's fault but hers that she is no longer a free woman in the eyes of the world. Her greatest hope is that he might fulfil his newly repeated promise and die of seasickness. 

Anne reminds herself that the adventure of leaving her old life behind has begun. She has cast off ladylike things, and is ready to make her way in the world. She does not wish to be bound by the limitations inflicted on her as a woman, and certainly not as her father's daughter. She is sure there is a life out there that can be created in her own image. What that might be exactly is a little vague, for she was always better at action than planning – but all in good time. 

'New Providence.' Anne enjoys the shape of the words as she whispers them to herself. No doubt a paradise of coconuts and palm trees, ripe with opportunity. A pirate port once, but lawful now that the British government has taken control once again. Its cut-throat reputation is old news - the last mass hangings of pirates two years back saw to that. She knows, for she has read about it (the newspaper reports taken and kept folded in an unread book of devotions), but she would like to think that something of the spirit remains. 

She has already made up her mind to part company with James once they hit dry land, for marital separation is a difficult thing to achieve in the middle of any ocean. She therefore bides her time, mulling over plans of what she might do to keep body and soul together once she reaches her destination.

Anne prefers to remain on deck where James is not, lying amongst sailcloth and rope as she keeps out of the way of the working crew. From this position, she is able to marvel at the myriad stars that reveal themselves as darkness falls, stars that har always shone upon her but never as brightly as they do now. 

The most seasoned of the crew is one Ezekiel Moore. He is as wrinkled as a walnut, wisps of white hair shooting from his scaly and the way Anne looks up into the night sky, transfixed, stirs a fierce protectiveness in him. Ezekiel had a daughter once, lost to time, and he fancies a similarity in Anne against the blue-black of the sky. 

He settles himself on the deck, lights up a pipe and speaks once the tobacco has caught and pale blue smoke rises. 

'I can tell you more about them if you like? The stars. There's more to the sky than you'd think' 

After a moment of hesitation, she nods and moves closer to join him, sitting cross-legged just as he does, transfixed once again by the star-studded sky. 

Ezekiel tells her that the stars belong together, and points at the constellations: the bow and arrow of an archer, the paw of a bear, the pole which anchors them all. Anne cannot remember having seen them before, but the patterns fall into place before her and she reframes her world beneath the shimmering sky, dotted with stories. 

'And the brightest, that is your Pole Star. Look out for him and you'll be all right. Now isn't that a thing?' 

As the days pass Anne is happy to spend her time on deck, as far away as she can be from James Bonny and his overwhelming self pity. And she is learning. Ezekiel shows her how the stars can be used to navigate, tracing patterns in the air with roughened fingers, weaving stories and tales from the night. She listens and watches carefully, willing herself to absorb this information, to keep it safe.

'Such a pretty girl - you've no reason to be on your way to a place like New Providence.' 

She turns to the sea-worn face, sees the moon reflected in his eyes. 'We must always be on our way to somewhere.' 

He considers it for a moment and then roars, for 'laughter' does not do the sound justice. 'Pretty and a philosopher. Now there's a dangerous mix - god help your husband.' 

She turns away again, eyes flickering upwards, and addresses the sky. 

'God needn't worry himself on my behalf.' ■

Buy on Bookshop.org

Bonny & Read: Rebels. Pirates. Women.

Hodder & Stoughton, 4 August 2022
RRP: £18.99 | 336 pages | ISBN: 978-1529395686

Rebels. Pirates. Women.

Caribbean, 1720. Two extraordinary women are on the run - from their pasts, from the British Navy and the threat of execution, and from the destiny that fate has written for them.

Plantation owner's daughter, runaway wife, pirate - Anne Bonny has forged her own story in a man's world. But when she is involved in the capture of a British merchant ship, she is amazed to find another woman amongst the crew, with a history as unconventional as her own. Dressed as a boy from childhood, Mary Read has been a soldier, a sailor, a widow - but never a woman in charge of her own destiny.

As their exhilarating, tumultuous exploits find fame, the ballad of Bonny and Read is sung from shore to shore - but when you swim against the tide of history, freedom is a dangerous thing...

An exuberant reimagining of the extraordinary story of Bonny & Read - trailblazing, boundary-defying, swashbuckling heroines whose story deserves to be known. Perfect for fans of Ariadne, The Mercies and The Familiars.

"This swashbuckling debut is great fun" – The Times

"Wonderfully drawn characters and a terrific pace" – Jess Kidd, bestselling author of The Night Ship

"Bonny and Read has it all. Adventure, atmosphere, sizzling suspense and unforgettable characters. Such a brilliant debut!" – SD Sykes, author of The Good Death

Additional Credit
With thanks to Kimberley Nyamhondera at Hodder & Stoughton.