riotheclown

Things that are lost are not forgotten, but memory has a way of changing things. We are always remembering through the lens of where we are and where I am is in prison, waiting for the gallows.

Anne Bonny and I were cutting a swatch through the British.

Our crew mates weren’t much for the fight. Many of them were brought down by sickness and the rest drunkenness. I have my head around the fact that they were poisoned. It was a bitter turn our fates had taken but there seemed to be no sense in giving up yet.

Anne was a sight to be seen, brandishing her sword and yelling the whole time, “Fight dogs! Are you going to leave it to a couple of women to save you!!!”

It hardly mattered that they would know that I was girl. It was the last thing they were ever going to know. Blood and sweat and it were all over. Whether they fought back or no the British sliced them down and threw them over board.

“Empty sails” was how I felt when it was over. In the red of the fight I killed untold numbers then, stumbled over them: Corpses that were living breathing men moments before. “No remorse for the fallen” Anne schooled me.

We were striped naked and whipped and then doused with salt water for the wounds. They did not want us dying of gangrene. The dead were lucky. I realize that now.

They were going to make a show with our executions: “A victory for the crown against the infamous Pirates Anne Bonny and Mary Read. We are twice the affront to decent civilized folk. We are pirates and we are women who dare to equal men.” I can hear Anne yelling these words from her cell. I wish she would give it a rest.

I try to remember colors I have known, the many flowers I have seen. “Passion fruit, and tamarind”, my island friend, Auber taught me. He was the father of this child growing inside me. He showed me sweet tastes, new and exotic. He made me laugh in the jungle and let loose a dozen frightened birds with the shock of it. He showed me many kindnesses, and showered me with kisses. He taught me to fish and to hunt. He never cared that I cut my hair or pretended to be a man. He knew no god other than the dawn which he met with joy every day.

We went for gold and found paradise. I wish I could have stayed there.

But we were the worm in the fruit. The people we came to love were taken by disease, “punishment for their heathen ways” the fools back home would say. We dug mass graves and left the jungle to reclaim them: So much generosity and beauty twisting on the curse of our existence, our greed, and finally, our ignorance. Our last day on the island, the people still alive held a feast for us...

This hanging is not justice; but we do not deserve to live. I am sick of life. This child will be better off not being born. His father is dead. His paradise is lost. If he were born they would sell him into slavery. Bring on the noose! Bring it on soon before my condition shows! Call me Mary Read, the infamous Pirate, but get it done!

Mary Walsh from County Wexford died on a bridge with her husband, still believing there was a chance for happiness. I will not give them her name. She was no villain. She was just girl who wanted a new life.

Here's a tune that captures Mary's life!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWYTyfQe-o8