Mary Read, Anne Bonny and the foolishness of men.
A tavern (or saloon or bar) much too men’s displeasure of the description is a gossip revelry, rumours travel faster than any ship and the alcohol just makes men lose their tongue. Of course, this gossip was always disguised as “valuable information” and rumours were “a guessing game.” They voiced their opinions and debated the night (or day) away. The Caribbean was no different from any place with a tavern, the locals were easily found interchanging gossip, trying to put a price on their story as the most interesting, the most heard, a pissing contest if the reader pardons my French.
“Aye, have you heard? That Calico Jack’s crew is in town”
One of the men will say, lowering his voice and looking over his shoulder as if pirates could come from behind him, the others will respond in kind, they will give the side-eye cautiously and nod.
“They have been roaming these parts of the sea for a while now. They are a bunch of cowards if you ask me, no honest work and as soon as they are cornered they go running to their mother, I tell ya. What they all need is a good hanging, no man is worth their lot if there is no honest hard work under their backs.”
And they will all “aye” and clap for the good, noble, honest, and hard work under their backs, celebrating themselves with the alcohol available at the time.
“Haven’t you all heard? There is a woman in the crew. I heard is Calico’s bitch, he has her at his beg and call”
With this comment the men will laugh, they will cheer and make obscene noises and gestures: debauchery in the name of brotherhood.
“I will be careful with my words if I were you, young man. If there is a woman in the crew then she must have to earn her place, and those who earn their place are ruthlessly protective.”
A man will say, drenched in years, common sense, and some type of wisdom.
“Let her try” they will yell “I bet I can fuck her too” they will proclaim, “She is nothing but a bitch” will be their final input.
“Hear the old man. I heard she is the most violent and ruthless of the crew. They say she skins everyone that dares to question her place, and that she has a collection of human skin, allies and enemies alike”
The men will sit in silence, they will try to think of a woman capable of doing that and they would not be able to imagine it. At least not at first, then they will think of sirens, harpies, and Medusa. Because if a woman is not submissive then she must be a monster.
“She must be ugly, then” one will answer as if that will keep him above her. “Aye, she must be almost a man” another will declare. “She’s no woman anymore” they will all agree.
By then they will tire and start to compare past conquests, show their scars as trophies or brag about the length of their dicks. Unknown to them, just past the group of locals and usual clients, in the back of the tavern two young men sit, quietly watching, quietly listening, quietly drinking.
The two young men will pay their due, and quietly go, just as they came. They will walk the nightly roads, with the sea breeze as their companion. They will check-in at the local inn, pay for the room and they will finally rest.
These two will remove their layers, their weapons, their clothes, the dirt, and the daily violence of their lives. What will remain will be two young women, naked, embracing each other, laughing about the silliness of men, drinking stolen rum and singing songs about women who are also monsters.
