by L. A. Meyer
"Hmmm," he says, after I finish. "I had heard of the Black Highwayman and of Bliffil's demise, but I had no idea it was at the hands of the calm, orderly, and totally honorable Lieutenant James Fletcher whom I had met in America and who most impressed me at the time."
"Yes, well, that was Jaimy then. I don't know what he has become now. I ... I ... am worried that he might have gone ... mad."
"Huh! Well, if anyone is going to drive a man over the brink, it is you, Jacky."
I nod.
"'Tis true." I am so very hard on my friends! "The poor lad has been through so much. It is a wonder he has any sanity left at all," I say, all my levity gone. "Do you think he has really lost his mind?"
"Over your death? Possibly. Over the Bliffil thing? I, myself, have been trying to kill that slippery bastard Flashby for at least three years now. Does that make me a lunatic? I don't think so."
I reach over and put my hand on his. "Dear Richard, you do give me such comfort."
He places his other hand on mine. "So what is to be done, Princess?"
I consider the question and say, "Well, the way I see it, we use the promise of Chopstick Charlie's antiquities for the British Museum to get both me and Jaimy off the hook. There's a lot of treasure there, Richard, and money generally talks."
"Hmmm ... Well, it might be possible for you. But Mr. Fletcher..." He shakes his head. "Killing a government agent—that will be somewhat difficult."
"I have Mr. Higgins and Dr. Sebastian working on it from a political angle."
"Good. I am but a simple soldier and I will leave the politics to the politicos. But as for that treasure ... hmmm ... I have some influence, and some influential friends, yes ... we shall see."
He leans back and smiles, then says, "I believe it would be good for you to get out into Society. Starting tonight. You shall dine with me at a fine coffeehouse I know of. All the ton go there, and we might find it to our advantage."
I wipe the rather greasy Faber mouth with my napkin and put it down on my now empty and quite clean plate, then stand.
"Thank you, Richard, and now I must return to my ship. There is much to be done."
He stands also and puts his arms around me, and I put my head on his chest ... But then I push away. I take a breath and say, "Richard, I am so very, very fond of you and I would ... you know ... go with you, without a moment's thought, without a moment's regret ... but I've got to find out about Jaimy Fletcher before I ... we ... think about things like that."
"I understand, Princess," he says planting a kiss upon my head—my shaved head does seem to be a favored point of contact twixt me and my lads. "It is why we all love you so. I shall pick you up at six."
"Thank you, Richard. I count the hours till tonight."
To avoid trouble, I go out the way I came in. I blow him a kiss from the window, then I am out and down, then back into the city.
Chapter 29
James Fletcher, Brigand
On Blackheath Moor
Dearest Jacky,
I write to you in the firm conviction that I will soon be joining you, wherever you are. If it be heaven, fine, and if it be the simple oblivion of the void, also fine. At least my raging mind will be calmed, my demons silenced. Whether my end is accomplished by a bullet or a noose or by my own hand, it does not matter.
My fear that I was losing my mind is now a certainty. On occasion I have moments of real clarity—like when I venture into the city to glean information on the whereabouts of Flashby—but now and then I black out for periods of time and cannot remember what I did during those times. Sometimes I come back to myself on the heath with gold and purses in my hand and no recollection of how they got there.
One dark night, I made the mistake of going to my family's home on Brattle Street, perhaps, in my weakness of mind, to seek some sort of solace, but found none there. Although it was good to see the old place again, and my father, too, my mother's very evident joy in hearing of your demise turned my stomach. I could not stand it and left in disgust. I shall not go there again.
The late nights are the hardest—those long hours when I writhe and toss in agony of mind. Only Bess, sweet Bess, can soothe me and finally make me fall into deep, if troubled, sleep.
I wish there was an end to this and I was with you.
Jaimy
Chapter 30
"Shankies! You sat down with Shanky Boys? Eeewww!" Joannie is beside herself—old animosities do die hard. She points her left forefinger at me and rubs it hard with her other forefinger.
"Shame!"
"Calm yourself, Sister mine," I say. "Things have changed."
I'm back in my cabin on the Nancy B., shedding my sailor boy gear and preparing for the evening. What to wear? Let us see. The blue...? The white?
"Changed? A dirty, filthy Shanky is a dirty, filthy Shanky and—"
"Toby Oyster is the boss of the Shanky Boys now."
"What?" she asks, incredulous. "My Toby?"
"Indeed. Your Toby. He came back from the Navy and he seems to be doing a good job. His Shankies now control all the smaller gangs in Cheapside, and a general peace exists among them, which is good, as I see it."
"Coo ... Toby Oyster, himself, back on our old turf. Imagine that."
I knew that Toby's real name was Tobias Cloister—and cloister being a place where they kept monks and nuns to do their prayin' and stuff and therefore not a good street name—so he becomes "Toby Oyster." Cloister-Oyster..."If it rhymes, it's fine in Cockney Times," the sayin' goes, and so it went, and so he became. It seemed to fit him.
"Yes. And you'll be going over there later to get more of these." I open my palm and show her the wooden disk with the crude "S" writ upon it that Toby had given me.
"What is it?" she asks.
"Safe passage through Shanky Turf is what it is, and we'll need more of 'em. At least five. And you will get 'em. Here, take this one with you, or else you might have trouble."
"When?"
"Later. When Higgins gets back."
If Higgins gets back.
"Coo ... Can I wear my black rig?"
"Yes, but be careful. And one more thing: Do not tell Toby you've seen Polly Von recently. It's for his own good."
She yelps in joy as she dives for her seabag and hauls out the costume. In no time at all, she is out of white sailor gear and into burglar's black.
"Ta da!" she exults, ready to head off.
I, of course, could have gone off myself to collect those valuable tokens, but I knew I had to give her a measure of freedom, else she would have taken it for herself. She is too close to her old grounds and I know the pull of the street is strong. Plus, she has old friends out there.
Speaking of liberty, I'd better issue some, else there will be mutiny.
"Go get John Thomas and Smasher McGee," I order after she is dressed.
She darts out the door, and soon my two stalwart sailors come in, hats in hand.
I have two stacks of coin ready for them.
"Here lads, go off and have a few pints. But be back by six. You both know what we are guarding here."
In an instant the coins are scooped up and gone, as are Thomas and McGee. I sigh in hopes of seeing them back in time. Sailors ... I swear...
As the two charge off the ship, we hear a coach approach and Joannie pokes her head out the door to see who comes.
"Higgins! Well met! Come rest yourself. Joannie, get Ravi and have him bring a glass of wine for our Mr. Higgins."
Higgins sits himself down and soon Ravi comes in with a tray bearing two glasses and a carafe of red wine. He pours and says, "Mr. Lee making the lunch right now. Be right up."
"Thank you, Ravi," I say. "Now, Higgins, what have you to report?"
He takes a sip of his wine, sighs, then says, "I have conferred with Mr. Peel. You will remember him, Miss? Yes, of course. Anyway, he was most receptive to your proposal concerning the donation to the British Museum. Although he is no longer with the Admiralty, he does still
have a measure of influence. It is too bad that Mr. Pitt has recently died, but Lord Grenville is Prime Minister now—"
"Not my Lord Grenville?" I ask hopefully. He was First Lord of the Admiralty several years ago and was very kind to me. Joannie bounces back into the cabin and settles at my feet.
"Afraid not, Miss," says Higgins. "He is William Grenville, older brother of your Thomas Grenville, but the connection could be of use ... Meanwhile, I did talk to Mr. Peel, whom you know well, and though he was intrigued in the treasure we carry, he was even more interested in the possibility of gaining native allies in Burma, local contacts driven more by self-interest than by nationalistic fervor. He was most enchanted with my account of Chopstick Charlie and his many-tentacled empire."
"Ummm."
"And Cheng Shih ... and the chance of opening China, and maybe even Japan, to English influence and trade. It is most attractive to a man like Peel."
"Does he know it is me back here on British soil proposing all this?"
"I believe he suspects, Miss," says Higgins. "And if I may say so, you have proven very valuable to him in the past. It might be well to pursue that line. I know that if you were to manage to find him a way back to his former position as head of Naval Intelligence under the First Lord, he would be most ... appreciative."
I nod, taking this in.
"And did you meet with Dr. Sebastian?"
He nods in turn, saying nothing.
"Then you know about the Highwayman of Blackheath Road?" I say.
"Indeed, Miss. A most unfortunate circumstance. Mr. Fletcher must be quite beside himself."
"Um, rather," I say, gathering my thoughts.
"I spent the night at Dr. Sebastian's. He was quite the generous host. We talked of many things, some of which I think will be to your benefit."
"Good," I say, shaking myself out of my reverie. "I myself spent the night in the company of my dear Captain Lord Richard Allen and—"
"Ha!" exults Joannie, her two forefingers again rubbing away and pointing up at me. "So that's where you were! 'In the company of...' right, in the bed of you mean."
I point my own forefinger down at her and say, "Out. You have your mission, Joannie. Now go do it."
She turns and heads for the door, well fitted out in her own black burglar gear. "Aye, aye, Captain!"
"And be careful! Stick to the rooftops!"
But she is gone.
I turn back to Higgins.
"And so how is our gallant and quite handsome Captain Lord Richard Allen?" asks Higgins, trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress a slight smile. Higgins, over the past few years, has given me counsel many times on matters political, financial, and social, but never on my own personal behavior in matters of ... well ... my affections for certain members of the male persuasion. Which is good, as I count it, since I do not think I would take advice in those matters. Certainly I haven't in the past, that's for sure. My senses tend to ... overwhelm me.
"He is well," I answer, all prim and proper. "He is quartered with his regiment at Whitehall. They expect to decamp shortly to Portugal under the command of Lord Wellesley ... Old Nosey, they call him."
"Ah, yes. That honored lord is supposed to possess quite a prodigious proboscis," Higgins says, and then sighs. "The awards and honors one wins hang upon the chest, and the fleeting fame that go with them, but a nose like that hangs upon the face for the rest of one's life. Pity, that."
"But while Richard is here, he places his men at our disposal. Within reason, of course. Certainly he would never do anything treasonous, or dishonorable. But within those bounds..."
"Ah. There's nothing like a company of mounted heavy cavalry at one's back, is there?"
"It can lend a measure of comfort, yes," I say. "So what's your next move, Higgins?"
"Well, tomorrow I must go to Blackheath. Dr. Sebastian informs me that there are many low and disreputable inns along Blackheath Road and I mean to check them out. I am sure there will be news of Mr. Fletcher there. So I shall prepare—"
"Dear Higgins," I say, placing my hand upon his arm and smiling. "The people in those places would take you for a copper in a moment. Or at least a swell, a nob, and you would get neither information nor a safe way out. Nay, better that I should go with Liam Delaney. Both of us know how to look rough and low. Nay, best for you to pursue your aims through the perilous alleys of British Intelligence."
Higgins nods ruefully, seeing the wisdom of that. "And tonight?"
"Tonight? Well, I am having dinner this evening with Lord Allen."
"Oh? Will it be here? What shall we serve? Shall I turn back the bed?"
"No," I say, giving him a stern look. "He says he will take me to a place called the Cockpit. It is close by Whitehall."
"Forgive me, Miss, but given the name, it sounds rather like a brothel."
"It is not, O Suspicious One. It is a famous coffeehouse, I am told."
"Where more than coffee is served..."
"Aye. Richard informs me that it is an establishment where anything goes—it is not cheap, and the food is very good. The sporting crowd, the ton, goes there, and no telling whom one might meet—highborn or low. It is a place where a gent meets his friends on a level ground, and where one might take a lady ... who might, or might not, be one's wife."
"Aha."
"And he says we just might meet someone who could do us some good in the British Museum line."
"Umm. So what shall you wear? The Empire white, the Marie Antoinette blue, the—"
"I believe, dear Higgins," I say, rising and stretching my arms above my head. "Tonight, I shall go ... exotic."
Chapter 31
As they had promised, John Thomas and Finn McGee returned at six and Richard Allen arrived by coach shortly thereafter. He was met at the gangway by Higgins, Davy, and Tink, all of whom were known to him from our treasure hunting expedition in the Caribbean. Hearty greetings were exchanged—brothers-in-arms, and all that. As Richard was dressed in his full red-coated regimentals, introductions to my good Irish Captain Liam Delaney were somewhat stiff but cordial, I later learned.
The lads then left the Nancy B. and headed off for some liberty of their own. They were dressed in the fine Spanish Naval Officers uniforms they had bought in Havana last year and they looked splendid.
"You two be good now," I had warned earlier in my cabin as I gave them a bit of a brush and some good advice. "And find out what you can about the Highwayman." I figure Dr. Sebastian has his ways of finding out things and these boys have theirs. 'Twas plain they intended to hit every low dive within two miles, and who knows what they'd discover?
Ravi, dressed in his loose trousers and white turban, then escorted Captain Lord Richard Allen down into the cabin where awaited the Dragon Lady, Western Edition, lurking in her lair.
"So what do you think, Lord Allen? Will this serve?"
I give a bit of a pirouette and hold my Chinese fan in front of the lower part of my face, my kohl-darkened eyes peeking out above. "You like, Ree-chard-san?"
He looks around my cabin, noticing, I believe, the new things I have acquired since last he was in this room—the little statue of Ganesh, for instance, that I had gotten in India. There is a little earthenware bowl in front of the jolly elephant god, and incense smolders within. My Chinese sword and sheath hang on the back wall next to Esprit, the sword given to me by my fallen comrade Bardot. And on the top of my bureau, my Golden Buddha smiles upon all within. Some frankincense burns in front of him, too. Ravi, who tends to these little fragrant offerings, is a committed Hindu, but he does try to cover all bases in the way of religion. I don't blame him for that, being something of a pantheist myself. Yes, Father Neptune, I hear you rumbling below... Then, of course, there is my Jolly Roger flag draped over that wall, and my Golden Dragon pennant displayed over there ... musical instruments all over the place ... and, of course, there's my bed—that noble structure that lies over there. Yes, his eyes play over it, but he says nothing of an amorous nature�
��he is a gentleman, after all.
Ravi pulls out a chair for Captain Allen and he rakes his sword to the side and sits. Ravi darts out of the room.
"Ah, yes, that simple little Indian girl I met in the forests of America ... hmmm..."
"You have learned that appearances can be deceptive, milord, and I am glad to have been a helpful teacher as regards that part of your education," I simper. "Anyway, am I properly dressed for this Cockpit?"
I have on my rich silk sarong, shimmering all blue and gold, given to me by Sidrah of the House of Chen. It is wrapped tight about my bottom and goes up to wind about my chest, leaving my belly bare. My bellybutton proudly wears an emerald taken from the treasure trove below. Hey, who could possibly think that Jacky Faber, she of the Rooster Charlie Gang and of the pirate ship Emerald and the Belle of the Golden West, yes, and even the Santa Magdalena salvage crew, could give all that treasure to some dry old museum. Yeah, right ... There's enough to go around, I say. Even Ravi has a nice little red ruby stuck up on the front of his turban, of which he is most proud.
I wear the silk robe that Cheng Shih gave me, the one with the Golden Dragon on the back, over the sarong for a bit of modesty. As for my hair, I have on my brunette wig, which Higgins has pinned up with some really cunningly carved ivory pins, also from the treasure stash, to look a lot like the hairdos of Oriental women. We have seen pictures of them in the papers that protect the porcelain china that comes from the East. Some of the wrappings have lovely, delicate images on them—wood engravings, we think—and that's how we know what their ladies look like. They are very lovely, and I have saved many of the thin tissuey prints, pressing them in a heavy book. If I ever have a house, I shall frame them up for all to admire.
