The Nine Lives of Jacob Tibbs

by Cylin Busby

  It was not until I looked up into the face of my captain that I noted something was wrong. Captain Natick had gone pale beneath his tan, his skin taking on a gray hue. Yet he stood tall and brave, watching the events on the dock. I skittered to the hole by the gangplank to have a look myself, and saw several men talking to Captain Goldney. They wore long coats of navy with gold buttons all the way down the fronts, and odd rounded hats with a silver badge, very unlike the headwear of my mates. In their suits they looked rather serious, and the mood on board the Bristol grew hushed as we all gathered and watched the proceedings.

  “Captain Natick, Captain Nicholas Natick?” one of the men in uniform yelled up to deck.

  The captain stood for a moment, stock-still, then answered, “I am he.” He moved carefully, perhaps to avoid the appearance of his limp, down the gangplank to join the men. He had barely set foot upon the dock when the men introduced themselves, then motioned for him to turn about. They took him by the arms and secured his wrists behind his back with something that looked like metal bands. The captain bowed his head, as if shamed. Who were these men? And what were they doing to Captain Natick? I knew not what was happening, only that all was not well and that my worst fears about reaching land seemed to be coming true.

  I raced down the gangplank myself, unsure what else to do, and Chippy was quick after me. “What is the meaning? Do you know who this man is?” he hollered.

  Captain Goldney turned his back to Chippy and said to the officers: “Another of his crew—Charles MacNeil, if I’m correct. He was second or third on the Melissa Rae.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the other uniformed man, a portly fellow, spun Chippy about and lashed his arms as well. But unlike the captain, who stood with his head bowed, Chippy spewed fire. Every curse I’ve heard a sailor utter came through his lips, and he yanked at his arms, fighting the man who held him.

  “Your letter said there were three mutineers aboard?” the portly officer asked Goldney.

  Captain Natick looked up and met Goldney’s eyes, suddenly aware that his fellow captain, the man who had saved us from the waves, had informed on the crew of the Melissa Rae before we reached shore. That jolly boat he had sent ahead…the letter…

  Captain Goldney gave no pretense of innocence. “Yes, the cook is below. He’ll give no trouble; he’s feeble,” Goldney said, tapping the side of his head. I looked up at the man whom I had once thought a great sea captain. His fine clothes and handsome mustache now held no appeal, and I saw him for what he was: a traitor. Hearing Moses called feeble was the final straw for me, and I lunged at the horrible wretch, attacking the only bit of him I could reach: his precious boots. I laid claws into them, and teeth, scratching deep and long into the fine, soft leather, leaving marks that no shine or polish would be able to get out. Goldney kicked at me, so I clawed up his leg, causing the officers to laugh.

  “That’s a mad animal—he yours?” one of the officers asked. “Of your ship?”

  “He is not!” Captain Goldney yanked me back by my nape and tossed me aside on the deck like an unwanted rag. He brushed his hands down his trousers to remove my fur and looked to his boots, noting the damage I had done. I assume I’m lucky he didn’t simply drop me into the drink altogether. But perhaps if he had dropped me into the ocean, I would not have had to witness what came next.

  Colin was ordered to bring Moses up from below, and, without further shackles or officers to be had, the Bristol’s cook was ordered to lead his new friend into the custody of the constable. To see Colin’s face added only more heartbreak to an already terrible situation. I could barely watch as Moses was led off the ship, like an animal. But what came next was even worse: As the sailors began to file off, I saw Leo Bear in their mix. The scoundrel cat raced to his captain’s side and was lifted in a wink. Captain Goldney held his huge, fluffy cat and petted him as if he were a prize to be treasured. Leo Bear looked down at me where I stood, puny and rumpled next to my bound mates. I vowed in that moment never again to be so quick to forgive a foe, for it was clear that while I had defeated Leo Bear on board the Bristol, his captain had won the war. It made me positively ill to see them together, content, while my own captain was led from the dock in shackles.

  I moved to follow the men down the long wooden dock and found that my legs were not quite stable yet off the ship. I crouched low to make myself unnoticed and crept beside them as best I could. I heard the head officer explain the charges, though they made little sense to me, something to do with “abandoning ship,” and for Chippy and Moses the charge of “mutiny.” I did catch one bit that set my blood to ice: “She’s not been heard of since; no ship has passed her. And she never arrived in port.”

  Captain Natick stopped altogether when he had this bad news. “She is lost at sea? The Melissa Rae? Is there truly no word, nothing at all?”

  The officer holding the captain’s arms shook his head. “The owner, Mr. Archer, Senior, is in rare form, you can imagine. His only boy was aboard that ship.”

  “He did not know how to sail,” the captain murmured. “The second and third mates went with me…” He closed his eyes. “If they are lost, then God rest their souls, every one.”

  I thought back to my time on the ship and tried to imagine a voyage without the captain, without Sean, Moses, and Chippy aboard. Who would know how to navigate? And who would cook? We had all assumed they had reached New York Harbor, but perhaps they had not—they were a crew with no captain, no experience. My thoughts went to young Bobby Doyle, who had stood with us and was left behind. Oh, what had happened to them at last? Was it a storm or something else? I had overheard the sailors saying that a ship with no cat on board was bound to be unlucky, and Archer had thrown me, the only cat left, over the side. Had that been their undoing?

  I was pulled from my thoughts when a boot struck my belly. “Go on then, mangy!” One of the officers kicked me to the side as the dock turned into cobblestone streets. I tried to follow still, but he stamped his foot at me again and I startled, darting back onto the dock.

  “That’s our animal,” Moses said, turning to Colin. “That’s our ship’s cat; can we collect him?”

  “He’s no use to you where you’re going; leave him be,” the portly officer said.

  “I will come back for him,” Colin promised my mates quietly. “I’ll be sure to find him on my way round.”

  The captain said nothing, so preoccupied was he with the news of his ship, of the fear that all souls were lost. I did not know it then, but this would mean a more serious charge for him, both morally and legally. He had left his own ship, and without his steerage she was lost at sea with all souls aboard, a heavy weight indeed. I watched helplessly from the edge of the waterfront as my best mates and my captain were led away from me, into the busy teeming streets of Liverpool, going where, I did not know. I let out one small mew of complaint, though I assumed it would fall on deaf ears, such was the clatter of the busy street before me. But I glimpsed, just for a moment, Moses, his eyes looking back at me with worry. “Stay put, Jacob,” he called to me as he was led away.

  I turned and watched as the Bristol was being unloaded, the stores from her hold lifted onto the deck with ropes and pulleys. But when I caught sight of Captain Goldney and his horrible fat cat coming my way, I turned tail and ran, not caring where I was going, down the cobblestone street, hugging close to the curb, as far as the next dock. There I stopped, crouched down in the bustle of people and ships around me, to catch my breath. I tried my best to straighten my fur, but I felt wobbly and unsure of myself, perhaps just trying to get my land legs back. I was surrounded by all types of creatures and things I had never seen before, all kinds of activity, yet without my mates I felt more alone than I ever had.

  The docks of Liverpool, I quickly learned, are no place for a little animal such as a cat. Though I had grown healthy and strong during our adventures at sea and on land, I was still young and undersized for my age. But even if I had been the size o
f Leo Bear, I would have felt small compared to the buildings and creatures I now found myself surrounded by. The docks themselves were huge—the Bristol was just one ship at port on the Coburn Dock, which was just one of many piers that spread like fingers from the city of Liverpool out into the ocean. I looked down the span of the dock before me and could count five ships in port—some bigger than the Melissa Rae, one even larger than the Bristol! I had never seen so many tall ships in one place.

  The animals I had encountered thus far were limited to other cats, rats, snakes, of course, and the creatures I had seen on the island. Now around me were shapes and sizes of living things I could hardly comprehend. There were other cats—mostly a mangy lot, thin and with patchy fur, looking as though they’d been put out by their captains, or perhaps had never had a ship to call home. But there were other animals: dogs with leaking jowls and uncouth barks, horses with huge hooves and no mind of where they put them, and a variety of livestock that made up the rest. I noted, with added disgust, that most of the dogs wore collars around their necks, as if they did not possess enough smarts to remember their own names or where they belonged.

  I wove my way down the dock on paws not quite accustomed to land, wobbling a bit and looking up at the majestic ships. Of course it was foolish to not be more aware with so much activity going on around me, as I learned almost too late! I darted to the side to keep from being struck by the quick feet of two horses pulling a cart full of wooden crates along the cobblestone street. Just then, the storm that I had sensed hours before began to show itself in the form of fat, cold raindrops. I remembered what Colin had said, that he would collect me, and I scurried back to the street and returned to the dock where the Bristol was secured.

  I thought I would have no trouble picking it out from among the other ships, but as I made way down the dock, I grew confused. Around me, men and animals scurried to get out from the rain. Large canvas tarps were launched over carts carrying goods, and sailors battened hatches on board the ships. In the driving rain, I blinked hard and put my ears flat, trying to see a name or recognize any feature of the Bristol. But I was jostled to and fro by human feet and dashing horses and barking dogs, and finally I scurried up the nearest gangplank, hoping it was the Bristol.

  I made my way up onto the deck of the ship, and realized, all at once, that it was not the Bristol, not even close, with only three masts. I jumped into a coil of rope I found on deck and curled in, out of the rain, to think for a moment. How would I find Colin again, and my way back to the captain and my mates?

  Just then the coil around me began to unwind, and I looked up to see large hands over me. I leapt out, onto the deck and back into the rain, and found myself facing a stranger in sailor’s clothes.

  “Ah! A cat, huh! You’ll be the death of me, scared me from my wits!” the sailor laughed. He reached to scoop me up, but I dashed from him, afraid. “Here, cat. Come on now.” He reached again, snatching at my tail. There was something about him that did not agree with me, and so I ran, fast across the deck and down the gangplank, skittering along the dock and back to the streets of the wharf as quick as I could, minding the horses and carts as I went. When I reached the stone streets, the rain was still driving hard, with no sign of stopping. I wanted to sit at the end of Coburn Dock and await Colin’s return, but surely he would stay out the storm wherever he was before coming for me? I sat until the rain had flattened my whiskers, watching as every other living creature in Liverpool, man or beast, found somewhere to get in out of the weather.

  I looked about to see what shelter could be had, and saw what appeared to be a livestock building across the busy street. The large front door was open, and if I could reach it, there were sure to be plenty of places to hide within. But getting across was another problem altogether, with horse hooves flashing by in either direction at such a speed to make your head spin! I crouched low on my haunches and made to leap. The carts raced by me, their large wooden wheels splashing up mud and grit from the streets, which coated my fur as I scurried across, quick and low as a little mouse.

  I made it to the middle of the street before I stopped, and here the traffic reversed, with carts and horses coming from the other way. I started across—too soon! I froze and let a cart pass over me, and I cowered between its wheels. Just as that cart rolled on, though, another horse followed it, and I sat directly in line of those hooves! I dashed, without looking, my eyes set on the barn across the way, and moved as fast as I could. When I reached the building, I was breathless and fairly covered in mud; one quick glance down at my front legs showed that I had been transformed from a handsome yellow-and-white cat to a plain brown one! I welcomed the rain now, though it did little to loosen the dirt from my fur.

  I slunk through the tall open doors of the livestock building and took in an odor that did not agree with me. Animals of all sorts were here, from rat to horse, and the place smelled of it. The space was big, with high ceilings and a tin roof through which the sound of the rain could be heard magnified several times over. The men who were working with the animals inside had to shout to be heard. The floor was covered in a soft coating of hay, which would have been lovely save for the occasional droppings of horse and cow that spotted it throughout. And these were not small droppings; the horses could easily leave behind a pile that towered over my head.

  I made my way over to one side of the dark building and crept low, trying not to raise the attention of the men I saw around me. I hugged the stall doors with my side as I slid by, moving slowly and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness deep in the barn. Through the stall doors I could hear the snuffling of the animals within; I did not know if they were horses, cows, pigs, sheep, or something else. Between the rain overhead and the creatures snuffling and mooing and braying, the noise was overwhelming, but at least I was safe from the weather. I found a quiet corner, hid myself behind a pitchfork, and set to work giving myself a bath. My thoughts went to my mother, and what she might make of my current state: parted from my mates and walking the streets of Liverpool looking no better than the strays I had seen slinking about. At least my appearance was one thing I could set right, and that I did.

  It took quite a long time to clean and tidy my muddy fur, and only afterward did I realize how tired I was. A bite of food would have been welcome, but I saw no way to have any of the feed that was given to the larger animals, and it would not suit my stomach in any regard, as it was all dry chow and hay and grasses. I might search for mice or rats, as there were certain to be some here, but I had never cared for the taste of them. I hunted them only out of duty. I felt the overwhelming weight of my current predicament settle over me, and suddenly I was so weary I could do nothing but curl in for a nap against the rough burlap, the sounds around me drowned out by my sadness. A vision of the captain was burned in my mind, his head bowed and his arms behind his back, as he was led, limping, away from me down the cobblestone streets of Liverpool. All the talk of the sailors aboard the Bristol had come to pass: my captain was in custody, and my mates as well. No matter how hard I tried, I could not see any way out of the mess we were in, and how we would ever set to sail again.

  When I woke, the lanterns that lined the row of stables had been lit, and it seemed that the animals were asleep, or almost all of them. A few snuffs and scuffles could still be heard, but it was quieter than it had been earlier. The rain seemed to have let up as well, leaving me free to make my way back to the dock, to await Colin or perhaps my mates. I hoped I had not missed anyone during my rest, or during the storm. If I had, I would be forced to find the Bristol and possibly face that terrible Leo Bear again, something I did not welcome.

  I came out from my hiding spot and stretched my back and paws, making sure my fur was set straight before I moved to the sidewall and, crouching low, made my way for the door. “Aye there, mister, looking for trouble?” My paws froze as a voice reached me from across the barn. “We’ve plenty of mice that could use catching, for one who’s not lazy. Come here, cat,
let me see you. Don’t be shy.” An old man on the bench beckoned me, but I backed away. He didn’t look dangerous, but I remembered the sailor aboard the ship who had snatched at me. I wanted to stay away from anyone who meant me harm.

  “I’ve something here that might interest you,” he called again, and I glanced over to see him dangle a fish by its tail. The meat had mostly been eaten away, leaving just head, tail, and a row of bones. It was perhaps his own dinner, and he was offering me the rest. My stomach rumbled with hunger at the sight, and my paws slowly padded to him, as if under a will of their own.

  As I neared him, he reached out, and I flinched back. “Now, just an old sailor to another, saying how d’ya do,” he said kindly. He laid the fish on a metal plate by his feet and motioned to me. I moved in closer again, pouncing on it. As I enjoyed my meal, I felt his fingers lightly scratch behind my ears. “Sailed with one as you, many years gone now!” the old man laughed. “This cat could tell the weather, he could! Old Blackie. Rest him, rest him well—a friend to sailors, he was.” The old man puffed on a pipe of scented tobacco and petted my back, his mind obviously lost in thought.

  As I finished the fish, he talked on, telling a story of storms at sea, of great creatures he had seen, and an island girl he loved. He talked and talked, petting my back gently. When I had eaten all that I could, I stretched and licked my paws clean, noticing that the old sailor seemed to have drifted off to sleep.

  I moved to the doors of the barn and looked out into the damp night, where a gentle rain still fell. Now there were no horses and carts on the road; the docks were empty of men, with just the huge ships bobbing gently on the waves. I looked back to the warmly lit stables and the old sailor now fast asleep with a blanket over his lap. Surely Colin would not come until morning to collect me. There seemed not a soul on the streets or the docks. I decided to stay in the barn until the sun rose; then I would go out and search for Colin, rain or no rain.