The Wake of the Lorelei Lee

by L. A. Meyer

  And all I’ve done for want of wit,

  To memory now I cannot recall.

  So fill me to the parting glass. Good night . . .

  . . . And joy be with you all.

  A bow and a curtsy and we are off.

  The next morning comes early—oh, much too early for many of us—but we rise up to do our duty. I know one thing full well, our laundry will be very, very busy this day.

  There are shouts and many bells and whistles, flags are hoisted and shifted, and then the warships move off one by one—first the Surprise, then the Laurentian, followed by the Indomitable, and finally, the Redoubt.

  As the warships wend their way out to the open sea, our own Crews festoon the rigging of the Lorelei Lee, waving them off by the flourishing of white petticoats.

  When it is our turn, the lines to the Mole are loosed, our sails are ready to be raised, and we prepare to slip away from the land. From the quarterdeck, Captain Laughton calls out.

  “Shantyman!”

  Enoch Lightner advances to his spot in front of the foremast, behind his big drum. He raises his mallets, pauses, then brings them booming down.

  There was a lofty ship

  From old England she came

  Blow high, blow low

  And so sailed we.

  She was the Lorelei Lee

  And the darling of the sea

  Down along the coast

  Of high . . . Barbar-eeee

  And so the Lorelei Lee and all upon her are off for the coast of West Africa. God save the ship. God save us all.

  Part III

  Chapter 29

  The Packet of Letters

  Conveyed by Seaman Gulliver MacFarland

  To the Reverend Henry Alsop

  The London Home for Little Wanderers

  London

  Jacky Mary Faber

  Onboard the ship Lorelei Lee

  Gibraltar

  June 1807

  Reverend Henry Alsop

  The London Home for Little Wanderers

  Brideshead Street

  London, England

  Dear Grandfather,

  I hope that this letter finds you, and all of those at the Home, to be well and happy. To business first:

  The man who stands before you, having given you this packet of letters, is a seaman named Gulliver MacFarland. I have given him permission to retrieve that old violin, which I left in your care, because it belongs to him. If the seal on this letter is broken, show him out and give him nothing, because I instructed him not to open any of the letters he carries. He is allowed that fiddle and nothing more. Though he might be charming in both appearance and speech, keep an eye on him while he is there and be especially mindful of any valuables the Home might have lying about, as he is not in any way to be trusted.

  Our good Mr. Higgins has contrived to be on this ship with me, and he continues to be the kind protector of my undeserving self. He has sent a couple of letters of his own in this packet, one to Mr. Pickering in Boston, Massachusetts, USA, and another to a Liam Delaney in County Waterford, Ireland. In addition to your letter, I have enclosed two others: one to Amy Trevelyne in Quincy, which is about thirty miles from Boston, Massachusetts, along with another to Hiram Fletcher, Jaimy’s father, who lives on Brattle Street, fairly near you. If you could forward them, we would be most appreciative.

  I know that you are wondering at the disappearance of Mairead and her husband, Ian McConnaughey. Though it is not happy news, I hope it will ease your mind to know that Mairead McConnaughey is safe and by my side, onboard this ship, the both of us being condemned to the penal colony at New South Wales in Australia, me for life, she for seven years.

  As for the condition of her husband, Ian McConnaughey, and my own James Fletcher, we know very little. If they could be included in your prayers, we would be most grateful.

  Do not worry about us, Grandfather, as we are healthy and cheerful, and continue to bless each day that we are still on God’s good, green earth and able to sail upon His mighty blue sea.

  Your loving grandaughter,

  Mary

  Jacky Faber

  Onboard the Ship Lorelei Lee

  Gibraltar

  June 1807

  Miss Amy Trevelyne

  Dovecote Farm

  Quincy, Massachusetts, USA

  Dear Amy,

  A quick note, as we’ll sail from Gibraltar in the morn and I must place this letter in the hands of Gully MacFarland (yes, that very same he) this evening, because we are performing together tonight in the Captain’s cabin on HMS Surprise. His ship is headed back to London, so he will be able to convey these letters to Rev. Alsop at the Home for Little Wanderers and thence to you—an amazing piece of luck as regards the posting of letters in this whirly and confusing world, don’t you think?

  Where to begin? Well, yes, dear Sister, I have once again stepped in it, and landed in it good and proper this time. You will have undoubtedly heard from Ezra Pickering about my reversal of fortune, so enough of that. Suffice it to say that I have been condemned to the penal colony at New South Wales for the rest of my life. There are many in this world who say I certainly had it coming, and perhaps they are right. I don’t know, as I never felt that I was all that bad. At least I shall nevermore bother the rest of the world with my troublesome presence, and, hey, I’ll probably get to see my kangaroo, after all . . . and my Bombay Rat is another possibility, too, as we might be stopping in India on our way to Botany Bay. Don’t know about the Cathay Cat, though, as China ain’t on our route. Tell Dorothea that I have seen some wondrous birds so far and expect to see more on my way Down Under. I shall keep her and Mr. Sackett informed with detailed descriptions of the feathered creatures. The mail from New South Wales is sure to be slow, but it must exist in some way, that is, if money still talks . . . I am sure it still does and I am still capable of earning it in my various ways, you may be sure of that.

  Thanks to Assistant Purser Higgins—and, yes, I am so pleased to have him along on this journey—I have gathered about myself a generally trustworthy group of twelve girls. The Newgater Crew we are called by the others because most of us have been recent residents in that foul prison, condemned to hang for petty thievery. I can’t call my crimes petty, though, so I count myself lucky to have escaped the noose, one more time. We have cornered the laundry concession, and with my worthy Crew, we prosper to a small degree—not as much as the Whorey Crews when they hit a port, to be sure, but we get by. I chortle to think of you, dear Amy, as I am on this ship with some two hundred and fifty prostitutes, thieves, and other criminals. I almost wish you were here so I could watch your face! Remember that day in Boston when I said that my ship would never turn into a floating brothel? Ha! Never say never, indeed!

  I have let it be known that I will be doing miniature portraits for two quid each, and I already have promises of two commissions. Thank God my good Higgins managed to preserve my seabag, so I have my painting tools, as well as all of my musical instruments. I know I mentioned it before, but I am so very lucky to have Higgins along on this journey—I cannot tell you how much.

  I plan to do readings on the main hatch, admission one shilling each. I’ll do Robinson Crusoe, Moll Flanders, etc., and some theatricals, to lighten the day-to-day tedium of the cruise—recitals of passages from Shakespeare, Marlowe, and Chaucer, even, for the risqué tales. The naughty bits of anything, be it song or story, are especially appreciated around here. Additionally, I have started a school for the young children aboard. There are twelve of them—seven girls, five boys—ranging in age from four to nine, and all seem to be taking to it quite well. We do reading, writing, and arithmetic. I am having the younger members of my own Crew—Mary Wade, Hannah Bolt, and Ann Marsh—attend as well. So you can see I am being kept quite busy, and that is all to the good, for we both know the Devil himself finds work for idle hands, especially these hands of mine.

  As you’ve undoubtedly surmised, it is a pretty happy ship. In any oth
er place, we would have been forced to do our work and warned to either produce or be flogged. Actually, and to my amazement, all of us ladies have been given a great deal of freedom on this trip, our Captain Laughton being a good and generous, if totally dissolute, man. Any thought I might have had of turning the crew or the Crews to rebellion would be quite in vain, as the men love their Captain, and the women aboard are resigned (and in some cases looking forward) to their fate. So I shall be going to New South Wales, make no mistake about that, dear Sister, for the once wily fox . . . or, rather, vixen . . . Jacky Faber has finally been brought to ground, good and proper.

  As we are sailing down the west coast of Africa, we will be crossing the equator soon and I know a big celebration is planned. The men aboard cannot contain their glee. Alas, in all my travels I have not yet crossed that line. I am still a Pollywog, and must look forward to some abuse when King Neptune comes aboard and we Pollywogs are initiated into the ranks of the Shellbacks. Still, it should be jolly fun, for all that.

  Well, I have gone on quite at length, in spite of myself—sorry about the jumble of words; my thoughts tumble about so—but no time for neat Literary Composition (belles-lettres), as Miss Prosser back at the Lawson Peabody would have it. I have ink spilled everywhere, but I have blotted it up and will manage to get this into an envelope. Please excuse the mess.

  Do not be sad, dear Sister, at our separation, for as you well recall, a little of Jacky Faber goes a long way, and you’ve already had more than your share of that less-than-precious commodity. Please do not weep for me, Amy, as I am healthy and cheerful and look forward to tomorrow.

  And if you feel so inclined, you might write to me care of the penal colony in New South Wales. You cannot know how much I miss your sweet company, and I will treasure any letters you might send to me. Please send me news of the girls at the School—I am sure Clarissa Howe is in a state of high rapture over my capture and debasement. Ah, well, let her have her fun. Regards to all my Sisters, both Upstairs and Downstairs, Clarissa included. Tell that Randall to be good—you might give him a peck on the cheek for me. I hope he and Miss Polly Von are getting on well, and I further hope you are being civil to our Mr. Pickering. Hmmm . . . ?

  I live in hope of seeing your sweet face yet again,

  Your loving Sister,

  Jacky

  Mr. John Higgins

  Onboard the ship Lorelei Lee

  Gibraltar, Spain

  June 1807

  Captain Liam Delaney

  Bonnettstown

  County Waterford, Ireland

  Dear Captain Delaney,

  You have perhaps heard that your son Padraic, daughter Mairead, and son-in-law Ian McConnaughey, were arrested in Waterford several weeks ago on the charge of sedition for having attended a meeting of the outlawed Free Irish Society. If not, then it is worrisome news that I bring you, and for that I am sorry. With Mairead’s being condemned to Transportation to Australia for seven years, we can only assume that Padraic, Ian, and the rest of the Irish lads received similar sentences and suffer the same confinement.

  The only good news I have to tell you is that Mairead is safe and here with us on the Lorelei Lee—yes, the very same ship that Faber Shipping was outfitting for passenger traffic when disaster struck. Miss Faber, too, had been arrested several weeks prior to Mairead’s incarceration, and after being charged with too many crimes to enumerate, she was convicted and sentenced to life in the penal colony at New South Wales, and in a twist of irony, her ship was sold to the East India Company for the Transportation of Criminals. I will, of course, lend your daughter what help I can in my capacity as Assistant Purser of the Lorelei Lee. I hope that gives you a measure of comfort as well as the knowledge that Mairead and Jacky are locked in each other’s arms in the bonds of mutual friendship.

  I know that when you learn the particulars of the most recent unfortunate events concerning your family, you will rant and rave and wish nothing more than to have the satisfaction of wringing the neck of our impulsive Miss Faber for having been, we must admit, the root cause of the current mess. But, Sir, I beg you to put such violent thoughts out of your mind and treat Miss Faber as a wayward but loving daughter, as I know for certain that she considers you to be her temporal father with all her very full, generous, and loving heart. I know that you have looked upon her with great fondness in the past and I hope that affection will continue to abide in your breast.

  That said, I would like to inform you of certain particulars. Although the loss of the Lorelei Lee was a grievous blow, Faber Shipping Worldwide still retains some assets. To wit, the Nancy B. Alsop, a two-masted schooner, sixty-five feet in length, with a beam of twenty-five feet. Although I am a landlubber by your standards, Captain Delaney, I have made several crossings of the Atlantic upon her and have found the Nancy B. to be a well-found, sturdy craft. Even though she is such a small ship, she is equipped with a generous amount of armament—both swivel guns and fixed cannons. For a generally peaceable person, Miss Faber does like to go about well armed in the world.

  As First Officer and Vice President of Faber Shipping, I offer the Nancy B. Alsop for your use. I have already informed Mr. Ezra Pickering, Clerk of the Faber Shipping Worldwide Corporation, of my instructions in this letter and have requested that he restrain the various hotheaded young men who currently man the ship until he has heard from you.

  Though I do not counsel any rash actions, I do want you to know that the schooner is at your disposal, should you desire to use her.

  Enclosed you will find a draft on the Bank of the United States in the amount of three hundred dollars to cover your travel expenses, should you decide to avail yourself of this offer. More funds are available in Boston.

  I am yr most devoted & etc.,

  John Higgins

  Jacky Faber, Convict

  Onboard the Lorelei Lee

  Bound for Botany Bay

  June 1807

  Mr. Hiram Fletcher

  9 Brattle Lane

  London, England

  My dear Mr. Fletcher,

  While I realize that I am not held in great esteem by you and your family, I do hope that you will find it in your heart to inform me of any news regarding your son James Fletcher, as I have absolutely no idea what might have befallen him since my forced departure from England’s shore.

  You may trouble yourself no more concerning any influence I might wield with Jaimy, since I have been condemned for life at the penal colony at New South Wales, and as a consequence, I shall undoubtedly trouble your family no more.

  If Jaimy has been freed from confinement and exonerated of all the false charges brought against him, then I rejoice with you and wish for him a long life and happiness. I hope that he finds love with someone more worthy than I. But if Jaimy has yet to be freed, I despair and share your sorrow.

  Either way, I would like to know. If you deign to inform me of this, I can be reached at the penal colony at New South Wales.

  Praying for Jaimy’s happiness, I am

  Jacky Faber

  Chapter 30

  “Very well, ladies,” says Captain Laughton to the various Crews arrayed before him. “The allotment of living spaces will now begin. There are four levels in the hold, the top one being the most desirable, having windows and sunlight, the second good air but no windows, and so on, down to the fourth level.”

  We are two full days out of Gibraltar and the Captain is seated at his usual table on the quarterdeck, flanked by the Purser and Mr. Higgins. Both Purser and Assistant Purser hold quills in their hands and bend over ledgers, ready to inscribe the amounts pledged. It is noon, the sun is high in the sky, the breeze is light but constant, the sails are full, and there are wineglasses and tankards all around. Although it is Wednesday, all aboard have been issued a double tot of grog in honor of the occasion. And yes, the Captain has a winsome Tartan on his knee. Does the man never tire?

  My girls are all in our Newgaters’ rigs—no stockings, of course, as it
’s just too hot, but still looking sharper than ever. We are arrayed up on the foretop, all laughing and chattering. There are only twelve of us, so there’s plenty of room for us to sit on the foretop deck, our legs dangling over the side. I always like the superior position in a situation like this, lookin’ down on all the others arrayed below. You can spit down, but they cannot spit up.

  “And furthermore, there are some cabins available. They will have a flat rate of one full pound a month, each. Do I have any takers on those fine accommodations before we get to the larger auction?”

  Hmmm . . . Heavy rent, I must say. The Captain may be corrupt, but he doesn’t lack for sense; it wouldn’t do for the three madams to start feuding amongst themselves, because it could get down and very dirty if one of them got private quarters and the others did not.