Rapture of the Deep

by L. A. Meyer

  Lieutenant

  His Most Catholic Majesty's Navy

  December 10, 1733

  I hand the letter to Jaimy, figuring he's the only one here who hasn't read it.

  "And this ship was carrying...?" asks Jaimy after he reads it.

  "Several million pounds' worth of silver and gold. Some in coin, most in ingots."

  Jaimy's eyebrows go up.

  "Will this count as prize money?" asks the evergreedy me.

  "Afraid not. There's just too much money," says Captain Hudson. "Besides, you would not have a share in it, anyway. But I have been assured that all involved will profit handsomely from it."

  "If we find it," says Mr. Bennett.

  If I find it, you mean, thinks I, picturing myself, the one without a share, stuffed in that bell, two hundred and fifty feet down in the murky depths. I suppress yet another shudder.

  "Yes," says the Captain. "Find it we will, but we will not find it sitting here. We must get moving. I have more than a few courtesy calls to make in the town, and Professor Tilden tells me he has to tweak some things in his diving machine before it is fully ready to go. We figure we will be able to leave in a week's time."

  That sounds good to me—a week on the town with Jaimy, hoo-ray!

  "But as for you, Miss Faber, I suggest you leave soon."

  What?

  "You will have the wind and the tide in the morning. Your getting to Key West early will enable you and Dr. Sebastian to set up the scientific part of this mission—the cover, as it were. You'll be sailing under your American colors and should have no problem with the Spanish authorities in Florida. And you'll have time to acclimate yourself to the water."

  With a heavy sigh, I look over at Jaimy, and he does not look happy, for he knows as well as I do that if "I suggest" comes from the mouth of the commanding officer, then it means I so order,and "soon" means now.

  I pat Jaimy's arm and say to the Captain, "Captain Hudson, would you be so good as to call in Mr. Thorpe and ask him to get my First Officer, Mr. Higgins?"

  It is done, and soon Higgins stands before me.

  "Mr. Higgins, we are leaving for the Caribbean tomorrow morning on the outgoing tide. As final preparations need to be made, please send Daniel and Joannie to fetch Jim Tanner and David Jones ... No, no, belay that. Send seamen Thomas and McGee instead. Jim and Davy will be at the Pig and Whistle with their wives."

  And they will not be at all happy. Which is why I'm sending my two biggest seamen to get them—they might resist most vigorously being torn so abruptly from their connubial bliss.

  Higgins replies that he will attend to things, then leaves, and as he does, the Captain rises, as do we all.

  "A toast," he says, lifting his glass to me. "To success ... and to our pretty little mermaid!"

  "Hear, hear!" from all assembled.

  And from the mermaid, herself, another deep and heartfelt sigh...Oh Lord, send me where you will, and I will go...

  Chapter 13

  We had been steadily bringing supplies aboard since our arrival, so there really was not all that much more needed to get under way. Yes, there was the running gear to be oiled and laid out, the rigging to be checked for the hundredth time, but we got that done early on in the evening of the same day and I pronounced the Nancy B. to be in good order for departure in the morn.

  Davy and Tim had been brought back in the foulest of tempers, having been rudely jerked from their very warm matrimonial beds by the very rough hands of John Thomas and Smasher McGee, but they were somewhat mollified by my announcement that, when the work was all done, we would all repair to the Pig and Whistle for a last dinner. Since the Nancy B. was moored outboard of the Dolphin and was therefore perfectly safe, there was no need to post a guard, and the entire crew could attend. And so the call went out to friends, wives, and sweethearts to gather at the Pig to celebrate our last night ashore.

  After a good deal of big-eyed pleading on my part, Captain Hudson did allow Jaimy to accompany me this evening—with the admonition to remember our promise of chastity and for him to be back by midnight—and so on the arm of Lieutenant James Emerson Fletcher, I did proudly arrive at the tavern. There I found Davy and Annie Jones, Betsey and Ephraim Fyffe, Daniel and Joannie, already getting into everything and makin' pests of themselves, with Maudie swattin' at 'em and tellin' 'em to be good and finally puttin' 'em to work swabbin' tables, which stopped their foolishness. And there was Ezra Pickering, who had somehow managed to pry Miss Amy Trevelyne out of the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls, and Miss Chloe Cantrell and Mr. Solomon Freeman, and Sylvie and Henry Hoffman, she now big with child, and on and on—all my dearest friends in this world...

  ...and there was Clementine and Jim Tanner. I knew that Jaimy had not seen her close up since they had parted in Pittsburgh last year, but he did know that she was in Boston and married to Jim. Ever the gent, Jaimy handles it well. As he and I enter the tavern, there is a cheer from those already assembled, and Jaimy shakes hands with those men he knows from that time when they kept vigil for us lost captives on the vile Bloodhound. He embraces the girls he knew from that time, too.

  Then he extends his hand to Clementine Tanner and bows. She manages an acceptable curtsy, her eyes cast down, her flaxen hair in ringlets about her face.

  "Dear Clementine. It is so good to see you again, the dear girl who saved my body from death and my soul from deep despair in the wilderness. I can never hope to repay you. Are you happy now?"

  "Yes, Jaimy, I am very happy, and I hope you are the same."

  Grrrr ... I growl to myself. I'm sure you were both very happy back there rollin' around on the grassy banks of the Allegheny, you ... Then I control myself. Stop it, Jacky. Let it go. Get back to the party.

  And so I do. I sparkle and I am gay. The food and drinks are brought on and we all fall to. Higgins leans over and whispers in my ear, "This will definitely empty the coffers of Faber Shipping, Miss, I regret to inform you."

  But I say, "What of it. Tomorrow is another day, and fortune will surely shine on us, Higgins, it always does."

  I perceive there is some sadness amongst some of us, since in the morning we will cast off our lines and leave on what might well prove to be a long cruise, so I take out fiddle and pennywhistle and get up on the stage and do a short set, which revives the spirits of all in the room. I do "The Rocky Road to Dublin" and "The Rakes of Mallow," tell a few stories, some funny poems, and then end up with my specialty, playing "Dicey Riley" on the fiddle and dancing the Irish jig at the same time. Not many can do it, but I can.

  I reflect that, while I have given hundreds of shows, on two continents and in many countries, this is actually the very first time that Jaimy has seen me in full performance. I do hope he liked it, but I don't know. He did clap enthusiastically. Because he was here, I resolved to restrain myself a bit in the dancing and to not tell some of the more racy jokes, but the resolve did not last long. I still don't know...Alas, poor Jaimy ... you who are so upright and noble, could you have picked a more unsuitable girl to stand by your side than me?

  But the ale and the rum and the wine did flow and warm fellowship did spread throughout the party. Concerns of rank and status and class fell away from Jaimy, Tink, Davy, and me, and we were, at the end, still just fellow members of the Dread Brotherhood of the Ship's Boys of HMS Dolphin.

  Throughout the night, I noticed Amy and Ezra getting a bit closer than Amy usually allowed—even to the extent of a bit of handholding. Hmmm ... And, of course, both Annie and Clementine were making the most of their last evening with their boys, as I was making the most of my last evening with Jaimy—'cept that, unlike them, I did expect to see him, however distant, in a week or so. Once, when Davy had to go off for a bit, my dear friend Annie comes up and says in my ear, "Oooh, Jacky, he's a pretty one, he is!" And I, grasping Jaimy's hand and nestling into his side, have to agree.

  But it did have to end, after all, as morning comes early and the party has to break up. Emb
races are exchanged, goodbyes are said, and we leave the Pig. Some of us, anyway—I relented in my order for Jim and Davy to spend the night aboard so's I could be sure we'd be ready to go in the morning, and let them spend this last night with their wives. You're not so far away that you won't be able to hear the Nancy B.'s bell ringin' at five in the mornin', and you'd better be runnin' on down to her right quick or you'll pay for it! You hear me? Good. Now off with you.

  Jaimy and I walk slowly back to our ships, arm in arm.

  "It's a lovely night, Jaimy," I say, the gentle breeze from the sea wrapping around us.

  "Yes, it is, Jacky. I can scarce believe we are here, after all that has happened."

  I give him a poke in the ribs. "Hey. Maybe star-crossed lovers no more, eh, Jay-mee?"

  He laughs. "I hope so. But this coming expedition does worry me some."

  "Don't let it, love. Live in the moment as I do. And in this particular moment, I am standing by the side of my own true love under a star-spangled sky, and nothing could be finer."

  We arrive at the silent Dolphin and walk aboard, saluted by the Officer of the Deck, Mr. Ropp. We cross the deck and stand by the brow that leads down to my schooner, lying below. I can hear Joannie and Daniel chattering below, and I see that John Thomas, Finn McGee, and John Tinker have strung their hammocks on the deck, in the cool night air, and are already in them.

  Jaimy and I come together, and after our lips part I put my mouth to his ear and softly whisper, "Can you hear my heart beating, Jaimy?" I breathe, taking his hand and placing it flat on my heaving chest. "Can you?"

  I hear him take a deep breath.

  "If you can, Jaimy, I want you to know that it is beating for love of you."

  "Yes, Jacky," he says. "I can feel your dear heart..."

  "Good. Now hold me to you, Jaimy, and give me a last kiss, and then fare-thee-well for a time. I'll see you in the Caribbean, and then we shall be together again."

  One last kiss, we part, and I turn and go down into my ship. The Nancy B.'s bell is rung at five in the morning, and twenty minutes later, Davy and Jim come down to the ship, arm in arm with their wives. A last embrace and the lads come onboard, leaving Annie and Clementine on the dock.

  Same as it ever was, the boys sail off and the girls are left to weep.

  The sails are raised, the lines thrown off, a final wave, and we are bound for the Caribbean Sea.

  PART III

  Chapter 14

  On our way to Key West it was ever so good feeling the world warm up with each degree of latitude that we crossed on our way south, shedding layer after layer of clothing as we went. I really don't like cold-weather sailing much—having to go around bundled up and all—and knowing that it's instant death if you happen to fall into the water ain't at all restful to the mind.

  Davy and Jim were mighty grumpy for the first few days after being so untimely ripped from the beds of their respective brides, but they soon cheered up. After all, what else could they do—moan the whole voyage? The rest of the crew—Tink and John Thomas, Smasher, and the kids—seemed content, as well, and all looked forward to the Caribbean.

  Dr. Sebastian was a little unsteady when we first got under way—the Nancy B. rockin' and rollin' a bit more than the Dolphin—but he did become used to the increased pitch and yaw and soon was pottering happily in his new laboratory. He had brought along several specimens of his precious butterflies, and I painted them up for him as we sailed. Back in London he had purchased the very finest paper and colors, and it was a pleasure to work with them and with him.

  Daniel and Joannie are quite tight now, he even allowing that she is all right ... for a girl; and she admits in return that he doesn't stink too bad ... for a boy. At first, of course, they were standoffish with each other, but they soon got together, and now I see their legs hanging side by side off the edge of the crow's-nest, which on the Nancy B. passes for a foretop. They are about the same size and the same age, so they have each other for companionship, and that is a good thing.

  Sailors have a lot of time to think when they are off on the bounding main, and this particular sailor did some of her own, and what I was thinking about was what we lacked. During that summer cruising the Caribbean on my Emerald, and looking for any profitable mischief I might get in to, I noticed that the sponge divers in the area, if they were diving off a large boat, would have a small raft tied alongside for ease of getting in and out of the water, and I resolved to have one of my own. Climbing a loose and twisty rope ladder up and down the side of a ship ain't all that much fun after you've done it seven or eight times of a morning.

  Hmmm. Yes, and some good, thick, supple leather for the making of the eye goggles I'd seen other divers wearing, like those boys that time off the coast of Sardinia. Considering the speed with which they retrieved the pennies thrown into the water by my crew, the goggles must have been quite useful to them. And I suspect that they will be very useful to me, as well. And I'll need glass and cutters and a trident would be handy, too, and...

  That settles it. I need to get into a ship's chandlery. We must be supplied.

  I go into my cabin to check the chart, then meet with Dr. Sebastian and tell him of my intentions, and he agrees with my plans. Then I go out on the quarterdeck and say to the helmsman loud enough for all on deck to hear, "Put your rudder right, Jim. Steer 270 degrees."

  He does it and, without being told, Davy, Tink, John Thomas, and Finn McGee leap up to trim the sails consistent with the new heading. Good boys. That's the way I like it.

  "Make ready, lads," I sing out. "We're goin' into Charleston, in the State of South Car-o-li-na. We need to take on some supplies." I pause for theatrical effect, and then I say, "There will be short-time shore leave for all."

  At that there is a cheer.

  Jack-the-Sailor loves the sea,

  But he also loves his lib-er-ty.

  Chapter 15

  We slip into Charleston Harbor on the morning tide, with a following wind, and find a cozy berth. There are many other ships in the harbor, mostly American, but some Spanish and Dutch, and others flying flags I don't recognize. There are American sailors all over the place, and that's fine—hey, the Nancy B. is American, too, even if I ain't.

  Pay is issued to everybody, and I get ship's money from Higgins and stuff it into my purse. Davy and Tink join me, and Daniel and Joannie tag along, too, in a high state of excitement.

  Business first: Higgins takes John Thomas, Finn McGee, and Jim Tanner to see about the logs and planks for the raft and we hie off to a ship's chandlery to purchase the stuff I need—the leather, the glass, the trident—and have it all sent back to the ship, and then we head off into the town.

  Daniel and Joannie skip alongside, soaking in the sights of the new city—well, new to them, anyway, but then, everything's new to them. We round a corner and come on to a big open square, and the two take off. Hmmmm. "You two be back to the ship at four o'clock, or we'll warm up your britches for you!" I shout after them. "I mean it, too!"

  There are not many people in this square, but there is a stage in the center of it and I think, Ah, maybe there'll be a show later on ... music and such...

  Watching the younger ones go, I take Tink's arm and say, "Ah, lads, ain't this just like the old days? Like in Palma, all those years ago, us mates rolling down the street on our first liberty call, hey?" Davy is close enough to me that I can give him a poke in the ribs. "Hey?"

  "Right, 'cept then you was a scrawny little runt of a boy I could kick around and now you's the Captain of the ship that has me poor arse on it," grumbles Davy. "Don't seem right, somehow."

  "Aw, give it a rest, Davy," says Tink, patting my hand that rests on his arm. "Least you ain't got some brutal Bo'sun's Mate layin' his knobby over yer back anytime yer a bit too slow to do his biddin'. You gotta admit this is better than that. And our Jacky was a bossy one even back then. You gotta remember that. So you should be used to it."

  "That's true," allows Davy, "but�
�"

  "And you'd never have met your lovely Annie if not for me," I say, hooking my other arm in his and squeezing it against me. "Admit it, you."

  "All right," he says, and laughs. "I'll own up to that. And I'll also own that there's a likely lookin' tavern right there and my throat is powerful dry."

  The sign over the place says The Swamp Fox, and there is a crude painting of a grinning fox under the words.

  "Looks like just the place," says I, grinning my foxy grin. "Let's go, lads. The Brotherhood forever!"

  ***

  We come out somewhat later, considerably refreshed, and head back toward the docks. The ale was cool and plentiful and the wine was good and so was the food. We link arms and start singing some of our old songs, and on the way, we meet John Thomas and Finn McGee, who report that the logs and planks are onboard. I know they have money in their pockets and are looking to spend it, so I point out The Swamp Fox and give it a good report and warn them to be back to the Nancy B. by six in the morning 'cause we will be sailing then and will leave them here if they don't make it back. I don't mean it, but I must make the threat. The two roughnecks grin and knuckle their brows and are gone. As they go, I see that Daniel and Joannie have come back to join us from wherever they had got off to. They both wear new straw hats as well as sheepish grins. I can only imagine what mischief they have been up to, but I don't ask. They run ahead, holding hands and laughing as they go.

  I reflect that it has been a very good day.

  The now very jolly Brotherhood passes an alley, and we are not at all surprised to see that from the end of it protrudes a pair of tarpaulin-trousered legs topped with a striped shirt. The owner of both the legs and the shirt is plainly a poor seaman who has had a bit too much to drink. We recognize him as one we had seen earlier in The Swamp Fox, and he was well into his cups then, even before he staggered out the door.