The Diary of my Anne Bonny

I have always been obsessed with pirates, ever since I was a little girl I have used every suitable occasion to dress up as one. Birthdays, Halloween and of course fancy dress parties. Simply any excuse to throw on my pirate slacks and shout 'shiver me timbers' In possibly the worst pirate impression you have ever heard but I didn't care. I was convinced I wasn't just dressing up, I really was a pirate. But, that in short was down to my Great Grandfather and his tales.

From a very young age my Great Grandfather would tell me how we were connected to Royalty. But, not the crown wearing, monarchy kind. No, the set sail, wooden leg, polly want a cracker variety. That's right, pirates. Of course I believed him, I already was intrigued by them as a young girl. My Mother would grunt and huff and tell me,

Little girls should dress up as princesses not pirates. Pirate costumes are for boys.

Of course, that was the 50's so it was the norm for little girls to be told this. It still is in many ways nowadays but I'm a fully grown woman in the 80's right now. Times are changing, women are becoming more independent and my god the technology is amazing. I don't know how it could get any better.

I would often climb on to my Great Grandfathers lap, who was my Mothers Grandfather, and he would tell me endless stories of strong winds, brash seas, desserted islands and golden treasure. I was amazed by how much he knew and looking back through history now it was clear some of those stories were accurate. But, many of course were adapted for a childs mind.

Bonny, do you know why you're so special? Because you have sea blood my girl. You are a pirate and your great, great, great many times over Grandmother was a pirate.

Yes that's right. My very distant Grandmother was probably the first name that came to your mind and the reason behind my name. Anne Bonny. Of course, I'm sure many of you won't believe me and that's ok because I probably wouldn't believe me either. Especially since it's very clear from historical records that there is no history surrounding Anne Bonny after her delayed execution. Some sources will tell you she died in 1733 while others take her life all the way up to 1782.

Your Granny Bonny wasn't executed my little cherub, it was delayed because she was pregnant with your great, great, great many times over grandfather and being the smart cookie she was, she simply disappeared.

I often got this same answer from my Great Grandfather when I asked these questions and sure it made sense but I was never convinced how he knew. I of course was told it was a 'family secret' which of course whenever my unbelieveing mother would hear would reply with,

Yes, the best kept secret in history apparently

My Great Grandfather would tut and roll his eyes. He would often say my Mother used to believe in these stories too but 'time ages a womans dreams' was his response. 'That and men', he would follow with. Something I only found to be oh too true in my adult years.

Your Granny Bonny was a spectatucular woman and she wrote letters, letters that have been passed down, rewritten, and then written about again in our family history for generations.

I would repeat these stories to my friends, mainly the boys because the girls were too interested in dressing as the princess that their mothers wanted them to be. There was one boy in particular who believed me, his name was Jack and he would often come over and listen to my Great Grandfather tell his stories for hours. My Mother would always giggle when he got excited about the pirates, it felt a world away from how she treated me. The story that stuck in my head the most was about the day my Great Grandfather himself read my Granny Bonnys diary for the first time. Of course, even as a young girl I didn't much believe this story because if it was true then where was the diary?

You will see it one day my dear, one day.

Was my Great Grandfathers response. And so, this is where the story begins.

It was 1982 and I was running late for work and suddenly I had a knock at the door. It was the news I had been dreading, my Great Grandfather had passed away peacefully in his sleep. My mother was distraught but calm as she knew he had a long life, the best life. I invited her in and quickly rang my boss to take leave. They moaned a little down the receiver but I didn't care. I put the phone back on the hook and walked over to my grieving Mother, she loved her Grandather and began to tell stories about how he would play dress up with her when she was a little girl.

He always dressed up as a parrot and I was a pirate. He would pretend to fly and sqwark around as I giggled and told the invisible victims to 'walk the plank'.

I laughed as she told these stories, remembering how he had done the same for me when I was a little girl, then my face changed as I remembered how my Mother would react to his stories when I was a little. She must have noticed this as she placed her hand on mine and sighed,

I'm sorry Bonny, I'm sorry I stopped believing. I called you Bonny for a reason you know. I'm ready to believe again and I have something for you.

My Mother handed me an old cotton wrapping and inside that was more wrapping and then more. I felt like I was playing pass the parcel but with myself and no music. I finally got down to something solid. As I peeled back the final layer I couldn't believe my eyes. There in my hands was an old leather bound journal, dirty but obviously cleaned up and the words, 'The Diary of Anne Bonny' written plain as day on the front. I looked at my Mother and gasped. She took the book and began to read.

The Diary

January 1721

I'm into my fifth full moon and this belly has become all but a miracle. I laugh at what some locals say. A baby is not a miracle, a baby is nothing but a nuisance. My ankles are swollen something rotten and I feel like a baby whale that is about to be hunted. They tried to execute me but succeed they did not. If only he had listened to me. If only Jack had listened.

February 1721

I killed a man today but no man was more deserving. He tried to take the arm of the little Jamaican girl by the rocks on the East part of the beach. She was just hungry and took some bread, he could have given her some but instead he beat her then tried to take her arm. He called her names which the white folks think they can call the Jamaican brotherhood often. But I know better than that. I may be into my sixth full moon but I slit his throat something good then went to take his arm. The little girl was called Calypso and she begged me not too. Too nice for her own good. I left him to rot in the sun and gave her a few pieces of coin.

February 1721

They tried to capture me again today. Some silly young boy who I wouldn't let tag along last week saw witness to my crime when I took that mans arm. He told them it was me out of pure jealousy. I should have taken his arm too. I got away but it's time to leave Jamaica.

March 1721

I'm back in London and it's not home but it feels like it. I walked past some guards around the town today and nobody flinched. I got some dirty looks for my clothes and whale belly but I just ignored the looks. It's time to settle now and ready the birth of this baby. I wish Jack was here. But, the useless dog went and got himself killed. They say us women rule with our hearts. Well, he didn't rule with his brain that's for sure.

April 1721

He's here and he looks just like his father, a little uglier maybe but they say babies get better with age. I have this overwhelming feeling I can't quite place. Like, I could kill anybody that tries to touch him. The last time I felt love like this was for Jack.

Today

I looked at my Mother as she read the last entry and we both giggled.

Well, not the maternal type it seems?

My mother laughed.

She will be, it can take some time Bonny.

I smiled. I knew this all too well. Pirates and buried treasure were not the only stories my Great Grandfather would tell me. He often liked to tell me stories about my parents when I was younger too. My Daddy died when I was just a young girl, roadside accident and not a pretty one either. My Mother found it hard to bond with me after that as I grew up. I think this is when she stopped allowing herself to believe. She carried on reading.

The Diary

June 1721

I ran today, I ran faster than I ever have before. My forehead dripping with sweat, the clothes heavy on my body and my feet cut and bruised from the ground. I held him so tight, I thought I was going to lose him. I ran and tripped only once, quickly turning to my back as I fell so I didn't crush him. They found me and I don't know how. Running after me I heard them shouting, 'Mary died because of her offspring and you will die with yours'. I couldn't risk fighting, not this time. But Mary, is she really dead?

February 1722

My boy started walking today, now he can learn to run like me. It's been a while since we had to run, the last time I managed to write was after our escape from those pesky arseholes. Now though, now we are back where I belong, on the sea and enjoying the salty air. If only Jack had listened to me and fought like a man, he wouldn't have been hung like a dog. He would have got the chance to meet his boy. I named him John, John Calico Bonny. I know Bonny isn't much of a name for a boy but it's the 18th century, times are changing and what a fine pirate he will make someday.

August 1722

Tonight I sail with William Fly. He's a small timer but he has British roots. I have a love hate with the British. On the way hand, they have some god awful names for the people of Jamaica, people I consider to be my family. On the other hand, they gave me Jack. John looks like his Father more and more everyday, he speaks now and I'm teaching him about his roots. I think it may be time to find a home on the shoreline soon but I will never forget my ship.

Today

Looking at my Mother, I was a little astrounded.

So she had a son and Calico Jack was the Father? What about her husband? I mean, I know history says she divorced him but I always thought that was after she got pregnant.

My Mother looked at me with a soft smile,

The heart wants what the heart wants Bonny dear. She loved Jack, she has made that clear in her writing.

I just couldn't believe what I was reading. If all of this was true, not only Was Anne Bonny my Great, Great, Great many times Grandmother but Calico Jack is also my Great, Great, Great many times Grandfather. I relayed my thoughts to my Mother and she just smiled before continuing.

The Diary

August 1726

A pirates life is full of death and dissapointment, that is for sure but it's also full of golden wonders, exploration and the most amazing Rum you could wish to drink. For many years now I have set sail with William Fly. He took me places Jack would have loved to raid with us but that dog still haunts my dreams with his stupidity now. Fly was killed in Boston last week, the wiggly worm escaped three times before they got him good. John watched him hang with me, it's important the boy knows what happens when a pirate gets too comfortable. He looked scared, I cradled him but only a little. He needs to grow to be a man not a dog.

The next twenty or so pages are full of damage and hard to read...

March 1742

Today I celebrated with the remaining people I call friends with my son by my side. I turned 45 and tales of long moons and bellies full of meat and rum as we sailed the seas fill the air. I hear the normal folk calling us, 'The Golden Age of Pirates' they have got that right but now that's all over. Last month we settled in Boston. I wanted to visit my old friend Williams last resting place. I still remember the way the old git mocked his maker as the noose was tied around his neck. John laughs as he remembers this story. He's a strapping man now with a wife of his own. You can tell he's Jacks son, he looks after his wife but he has the brains of this Bonny. Thank the ships sail. Her names Lucy and a beauty she is. She reminds me of Mary but a little nicer and wider around the hips. She's carrying Johns baby and I have a feeling it's to be a girl. They say they will call her Bonny and she'll take her Mothers final name. I don't like this, Bonny should be a last name but any way to keep the name in the family will do.

April 1751

I thought I had lost my diary but today Bonny found it for me. She was playing with her wooden doll and running around the yard before tripping and grazing her knee. I took her in to clean up her wounds and she wondered off. She came back with my diary and hasn't explained where but I have it now. It was an odd feeling, like butterflies in the pit of my belly reading about my past. I'm an old lady now and I don't see many moons left for me. But, I escaped my original fate and I breathe to see my little Bonny play. She plays like John and loves like her Grandfather with the brains of this Bonny. She would have made a wonderful pirate. She reminds me of Mary, just like her Mother.

The next few pages are badly damaged with only sparing words that can be seen...

June 1759

Little Bonny brought Frieda Bonny to me today. She looks like her Grandmother Lucy. It's been hard for John losing Lucy so soon, he should have gone before her being the man. But, women always get the short end of the straw in these times.

Today

Mouth dropped, I gazed at my Mother,

So Bonny had a little Bonny?

She giggled,

So it seems Bonny, so it seems

Pausing to make a cup of tea, I looked at the diary. Real, the real diary of Anne Bonny, my Nanny Bonny. Nobody was going to believe this, I know I wouldn't if somebody was telling this story to me but the diary was clearly old and hardly handled. I just couldn't understand how it was so preserved. Flicking through the pages, the next few entries were short and few. Bonny mentioned her hands getting tired as she aged, probably arthritis but I suppose that wouldn't have been known then. Finally, there was one final entry. An entry that broke my heart. It was unlike the others, it was more delicate, soft and almost like a goodbye. It was a goodbye. I waited for my Mother to return and I read the final entry to her.

The Final Entry

November 1781

Today my end is close and my mind is not what it was. Yesterday I had the strangest sensation that my Jack was here with me. But, that stupid dog died years ago. I know that. I have nobody left, my Frieda was buried this morning, she had a rotten disease but I forget the name. She has been laid to rest with John, my boy and little Bonny died not long after her Father. I feel like I have written this before but I am too tired to read back and too old to remember. Frieda died today but she left Peter, he is as ugly as John was. I still remember the day he was born. Indeed it was true that babys get better with age. Peter is lucky his Father has another wife to look after him, he will carry on the Bonny name yet. I often wonder what it would have been like to die with Jack. I would never have been able to explore this world but then I would never have died alone. At least I didn't die like a damn dog. I hear John calling me but I know he's not there. I think I'm going mad but I welcome it. My old friend Blackbeard was just as mad towards the end. Frieda died today. She was such a beauty just like Mary. I remember Mary when she was Mark. How anybody fell for that I will never know, I only wished for half of the beauty but Jack always told me I was his Gold. I think it's time for me to lie down, I need to see the sunset in this beautiful Jamaican town just once more with Jack by my side. He's waiting by the beach in the East. I helped a girl today, she nearly lost her arm. I slit his throat just like my Jacks got snapped. I think it's time to lie down now. This Diary has served me well but I'm sure it will be lost to the Full Moons. I can hear John laughing outside, he's just like his Father. Jack shouldn't have died the stupid dog, he could have fought like a man but he left us. I have to go, Frieda died today and I need to lie down. My hands hurt. I'll write again when I can. For now, I will visit that beach on the East again and watch for my Jacks ship on the horizon.

Anne Bonny

No further entries...

Today

My eyes began to fill as I looked at my Mother. She was already crying as she grabbed my hand and caressed it slowly.

I'm sorry my Bonny, your Great Grandfather would be so proud of you. I should never have stopped believing. It has been such a long time since I read this diary, how did I ever forget to believe?

I looked at her and she saw the sincerity in my eyes. My Mother believed again and I felt alive. I just couldn't shake that final entry.

She sounded out of her mind, almost like she had Alzheimers. But, they wouldn't have known back then. She reminded me of Nanny Rose remember? She was the same way towards the end.

She looked at me and nodded slowly before kissing my head and wrapping the diary back up once last time.

We could hand this to a museum and let the world know our legacy or we can keep it as a family secret. What do you want to do Bonny?

I paused for a second but the answer was clear.

It will be our family secret forever.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. Your support keeps pushing me forward and if you're feeling in a giving mood how about some love or maybe even a tip?