He had tried to keep her from the sea. He thought that just stealing her skin would keep her on the shoreline. All it took was stealing his clothes right back, and slipping away on the first ship out. No one could read the sea like she could. It was almost like she was casting spells, able to read the tides like magic.
It wasn’t hard to gain a loyal crew, if one knew where to look. With her reputation, she found those like her. Ones who thought their lives were doomed to be upon the shore. They wove new tales, new skins of a sorts. Histories with no truths behind them, swallowed whole by humans who didn’t know any better, who feared the white bones upon black fields.
They gained wealth and riches, they gathered fear greater than what old stories barely believed did any longer. She chose her own love, fought her own battles, played her own tricks.
And quietly, after years upon the ocean, she found that human again, stole back her skin, and slipped away into legend and the bitter salt sea.
The human thought he had stolen her freedom with her skin. In the end, all he did was create a woman to be feared and held in awe throughout history.
After all, Anne Bonny bowed to no man.