Tuesday, January 31, 2017

TELL TALE TUESDAY: Captured and thrown into a steamy Jamaican prison in 1720, Anne Bonny and confederates, Calico Jack Rackham and Mary Read, are quickly convicted of piracy and sentenced to hang. WHERE ARE YOU ANNE BONNY BY DANIEL LANCE WRIGHT

Where are you, Anne Bonny?
Daniel Lance Wright
Excerpt Heat Level: 3
Book Heat Level: 3


Captured and thrown into a steamy Jamaican prison in 1720, Anne Bonny and confederates, Calico Jack Rackham and Mary Read, are quickly convicted of piracy and sentenced to hang. A clever ruse helps Anne escape but she must leave Mary and Jack behind. On the run from the law in the Caribbean and the American colonies, Anne becomes adept at disguises... of both genders. Adventure now comes in many new forms, on land and upon the seas. But how long can she maintain such well guarded anonymity?


"Had you fought like a man you’d not be set to die like a dog on the gallows," Anne Bonny whispered. The convicted lady pirate couldn’t bring herself to lift her eyes to connect with Jack Rackham’s through the black iron bars. She feared giving in to romantic leanings. Eventually she did, pulling her gaze from the rough cobble stones of this St. Jago de la Vega, Jamaica prison floor and glanced beyond the vertical bars of the cell. Jack’s silence attracted her attention faster than a scream would have.

As her eyes connected, "Stand straight, man! Don’t be cowering. Ya hear me Jack? Replace that jelly in your back with a stiff spine."

Anne attempted advancing on the cell door to get into Jack’s face with her warning but was yanked to a standstill by the leather bindings at her back.

The hulking guard holding her burst into bellowing laughter, releasing a spray of spittle into the side of her face. "The talk I’ve heard was not a’tall exaggerated. My God! You are an evil woman. This is the thanks you give Calico Jack? He’s about to have his neck snapped by the hangman’s noose, and he had the decency to offer the magistrate his life in exchange for yours. Now, he begs for your presence as his final request. How cruel can you be?" He slammed Anne’s head into the bars, her face forced between them.

"Please, don’t hurt her," Jack said. "She meant me no disrespect."

Unable to resist, hands bound, she could only stand, awkwardly leaning into the bars, face distorted.

Jack kissed her forehead then her lips. "I’m sorry, Anne."

"Me too, Jack."

"Nay to that; it’s my fault... all my fault we’re in this mess."

"Aye. That be true enough. Still, I don’t wish to see you dead." Smashed against the bars, she strained to look back at the smelly sweating source of her discomfort, wanting to spit in his face.

The guard shook her hard. "Calico Jack must be daft or the devil guides your tongue," he said, still laughing. "You talk to him as if he’s a bastard street urchin."

Finally, she was allowed to push away from the bars and stand straight. "He knows the mistake he made now that he’s sobered and thought on it." She raised her shoulder and pressed it against her cheek wiping away the guard’s disgusting salivary spray.

Angry lips relaxed. "Now, if you’d remove these leather restraints, I’d enjoy showing you how a woman can pleasure a strong man as yourself. My loins tingle each time I get the full look at you." Come a bit closer so I might clamp my teeth onto that ghastly lip and rip it from your face. She stepped closer but still at arm’s length and relaxed her jaw, tongue dancing over parted lips. She looked longingly into his eyes.

Becoming mesmerized, he pushed his face toward hers then lucidity snapped into those dulled eyes. "I think I’d have a better chance of enjoyment…and of survival, stepping into a cage with an unrestrained she-devil." Holding her arms above the elbows, he spun her around shoving her toward the jailhouse door.

For an instant she came face to face with her captor smelling the stench of his foul mouth. Twisting her face into a queasy grimace, she kept her head turned away. But, even the rancid smell of all his recent meals couldn’t erase the other disgusting aroma--unwashed human flesh within the confines of a crude tropical prison. The oily odors triggered a reflex to pull only enough air to stay conscious.

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