by L. A. Meyer
"The men take up their shovels and pickaxes and head on off, back to the Man's plantation down in the valley, leavin' the place all quiet. Brother Rabbit sits up, grins him an evil grin, and heads off back down the road, lookin' for a certain pair of rascals."
Jemimah pauses to clean an imaginary spot from her big skillet and then hangs it on its hook on the side of the stove. She is well aware of the effect this pause has on her impatient audience. When she figures the kids have squirmed enough, she goes on.
"Soon Brother Rabbit spots Brother Fox and Brother Bear lyin' under a persimmon tree, asleep and snorin' away. The rabbit figures he'll get behind a bush and wake 'em up with a song, pretendin' he don't know they're there. He opens his mouth and sings.
Oh, de Squirrel he got a bushy tail,
Possum's tail is bare.
Raccoon's tail is ringed all 'round,
And stumpy goes de Bear.
Stumpy goes dat ooooold
Brown bear'
"The fox's ears perk up and he cracks open an eyelid. He nudges the bear, who grunts and keeps on sleepin'. Sleepin' is one thing bears is really good at.
"'Wake up, Brother,' says the fox. 'I think I hears dat rabbit comin' along.'
"Well, that gets up the bear. He wake up droolin', cause he been dreamin' of some nice rabbit stew and now the main ingredient in that kinda stew was comin' near.
"Brother Fox and Brother Bear get to their feet and listen as Brother Rabbit puff out his chest and sing up another verse.
'Brother Fox he got a bushy tail,
Muskrat's tail is bare.
Rabbit got no tail at all, Just a little tuft of hair.
Just a little tuft of hair
Back there'
"Then he burst right into the clearin' where the fox and bear is waitin'.
"'Grab him, Brother!' shouts the fox.
"'Feets, do yo' stuff!' shouts the rabbit, and he spin about and he dash off down the road with Brother Fox and Brother Bear right behind him. They can run fast, but the rabbit be little bit faster. Still, he don't get too far ahead of them, no, he just wave his little cottontail in front of their noses and they keep on pantin' after him.
"Soon Brother Rabbit see the trap up ahead and as he get close to it, he gather up all the strength in his hind legs, and when he get to the edge, he springs and leaps clean over it and lands on the other side.
"Then he hear crash and he turn and look and, sure enough, the fox and the bear have fallen right into the trap. The rabbit creep up to the edge and look down. 'My, my,' he thinks, 'the mens sure dug this hole deep, yessuh! Ain't no way them two is gettin' outta dere, nossuh! Even if the fox get on the bear's shoulder, he still won't be able to jump out.'
"Brother Rabbit got a big toothy grin on his face. 'My, my, ain't life just fine, sometimes? Two o' de baddest Brothers in de woods stuck in a hole wit' no way out! Ooooowee!'"
"And ain't Brother Rabbit just the smartest rabbit ever?" I tease from my perch next to the coop.
"Hush, you," says Jemimah.
I hush myself and reach down to stroke Gringo behind his head. He seems to like it.
Earlier, we made landfall at a spot close to Bahia Honda and put a very resolute Flaco Jimenez ashore there with my warning not to do anything rash. He didn't say anything to that, but instead bent me over backward and planted a good one on my mouth and then leaped into the waiting boat before I could swat him. As Thomas and McGee rowed him away, he stood and took off his hat and waved it, calling out, "Adiós, Jacquelina! We shall sail together again! I swear it!"
I hope so, Flaco ... I really do.
Jemimah rattles some of the breakfast pots and skillets as she's hanging them back on their hooks and resumes her story.
"The fox and the bear, they still be stunned from the fall, but Brother Fox, he recovers some and commences growlin' and leapin' up the sides of the trap, tryin' to get out, but it don't do him no good, no. He just fall back down on top of Brother Bear.
"'What is all dis?' ask the bear, shakin' his big ol' head, all confused.
"'Dis a trap, fool,' says the rabbit, 'what de men dug to catch de bear what's been eatin' up dere honey and de fox dat's been eatin' up dere chickens. Dat's what it is. And you know what, Brother Bear?'
"The bear look up at the rabbit. 'What?'
"'By 'n' by, the mens is gwine come back up here wit' dere guns and dey's gwine shoot you both full o' holes and den haul yo' dead butts away. Hee-hee, oh glory!'
"At this, the fox starts snarlin' and pacin' about, but the bear just sits down and starts in moanin' and cryin'. Brother Rabbit, he roll over laughin' and kickin' all four of his feet in the air in joyful appreciation of the moment. Then he roll back over and lie himself down next to the edge of the hole and he rest his chin on his forepaws.
"'And you know what else, Brothers?'
"'What?' says the fox, barin' his teeth and wishin' to God he could sink them teeth in Brother Rabbit's neck and grind 'em real hard.
"'Well, let's us speculate on what's gonna happen to yo' sorry selves real soon. First you, Brother Fox: The mens gonna take sharp knives and skin you and tan yo' red hide and they gonna make you into one o' them fancy fur pieces the men's ladies wear to church—you seen 'em—de ones where the fox fur loops 'round the lady's neck and the skinners leave the head on and make it look like the pore dead fox is bitin' his own tail. Hee-hee! You finally get to be a regular churchgoer, Fox.'
"Brother Fox make one more try at leapin' off the bear's back at the rabbit, but all he can do is snap his teeth in front of the grinnin' rabbit's nose.
"'You'll finally be a churchgoin' brother, 'cept you won't know it, 'cause you'll be dead.'
"'And as for you, Brother Bear, oh, dey gots lots o' uses for yore pore body,' Brother Rabbit goes on, while Brother Bear whimpers and rubs his cryin' eyes. 'First they gwine take your skin, and then make a big ol' rug outta it and put it in front o' dere fireplace so they young'uns kin sit there all cozy. Don't dat make a nice, warm picture in yore mind, Brother Bear? Then they gone cut up the rest o' you and roast you up and eat up anything you got on you worth eatin'. Den dey throw yo' bones to dere dogs. And then, dat ain't de end of it, oh, no, then they render down yo' fat, yo' very considerable fat, and dat dey uses to rub all over demselves to keep the mosskeeters off, 'cause yo' fat stink so bad even the skeeters can't stand it and they flies away to go bite someone else.'
"'Oh, oh, oh, we's done for, fo' sure! Oh, what will my pore Mama Bear say,' moans Brother Bear, 'when she hear her li'l baby boy is gone?'
"'She'll prolly say she wish she had birthed a brighter cub,' says the rabbit, showin' no mercy at all to the poor blubbering bear. 'One what wasn't fooled by a little rabbit and ended up as a rug.'"
Jemimah wipes her hands on a dishrag and sits heavily down, ignoring the kids' pleas to keep going with the tale.
"Later, children. Let your auntie catch her breath. Go do your chores now."
As I stand there and flick choice seeds to Gringo, I think back to last night and to my dinner with poor Flaco.
A nod and a few words to Higgins and he sets the finest table the Nancy B. is capable of, which ain't too shabby, considerin' we always go first class whenever we can. And now, with Jemimah's help, we have gumbos thick with shrimp and okra, gently roasted meats covered with delicate mushroom sauces, bread as light as air, and potatoes baked and garnished with butter and cheese. It's served with the best of our clarets and topped off with the finest port wine.
It cheers Flaco considerably—hell, that dinner would cheer a condemned heretic on his way to the stake—and he sits back after all is done and pats his belly. Then he voices his opinion, looking pointedly at my sleeping accommodations off to the side of my cabin, that there is one further thing that I might do that would cheer him greatly and restore him to his former confidence, if I would so agree.
Alas, Flaco, I cannot agree to that—my lusting heart tells me "yes," but my better self tells me "no"—as I have given my
word before God that I am promised to a fine young man, and I cannot break that vow. That vow, and the one I made to the Admiralty concerning my chastity on this voyage. Things sure do get complicated with all these vows—I mean, who could possibly care about the rag of skin, bone, and hair that is me? Beats me. It's strange, but it seems that some do. Ah,well...
And so ex-Captain Flaco Jimenez slung his hammock that night out on the deck with the rest of my crew, and I kept my solitary vigil in my own bed, knees pulled up to chin, saying prayers for all my mates, whether they be Royal Navy, Faber Shipping, charming pirates, or ladies of the Lawson Peabody ... and a special goodnight, love, to one James Emerson Fletcher, ah, yes...
And you'd better be good in Kingston, Jaimy! And I mean it!
"Dan'l. You think you got enough wood in this pile?" asks Jemimah. She arranges herself on a chair with a big bowl and commences shelling peas.
"Yes, Ma'am," says Daniel Prescott.
"Well, you wrong, boy. Go fetch some more. Joannie, get us a bucket of fresh water, and then sit down and help me with these peas. Mebbe then we'll see what happened to them critters."
The kids shoot off down below to do her bidding. I ruefully wish I could have that same sort of enthusiastic response to orders on my ship. Maybe I should tell more stories. Oh, well, when it comes down to the real business, my men are just as sharp.
With the wood in the bin and the water in the bucket, the tale resumes.
"As you know, Brother Fox was still stuck down in that hole with Brother Bear where we last left 'em, and he be glarin' up at the grinnin' rabbit lookin' down on him, 'You know dis ain't right, Brother Rabbit,' says the fox, lookin' the rabbit in the eye, 'it just ain't the natch'rul way of things in the woods. You gotta get us outta here.'
"'Get you out? Har, har! Get you out?' The rabbit laugh and laugh. 'Oh, Brother Fox, I ain't gonna do dat at all. Hain't y'all bin gnawin' on the bones o' my pore rabbit brethren and sistern all these years? Yes, you have. Been trying to eat me, too, but you ain't had much luck in dat, have you? Hee-hee!'
"The fox growl and the bear whines and then ... the rabbit about jump outta his skin when he hear behind him, 'What'cha doin,' Daddy?'
"Brother Rabbit whip around and see that one of his young'uns had followed him up here and is standin' next to him.
"'Boy,' he say, 'don't yo' never sneak up on yo' pappy like dat again. Wooo! You almost made me fall in de hole wi' dem two. Sho'nuff woulda hated endin' up as dere last meal on God's green earth! C'mere. Look down dere and tell me what you see.'
"Rabbit Child creeps over and looks down the hole.
"'Whoa!' he say in wonderment. 'Dat Brother Fox and Brother Bear down dere. What they doing dere, Daddy?'
"'Fixing to die is what dey doin' and ... hmmm...,' say Brother Rabbit, thinkin' to himself. 'These ol' boys'll gonna wanna be gettin' right wi' the Lord 'fore they goes off. Prolly want some words said over 'em ... hmmm ... and yore mama, she bein' a church woman, know how to do dat. Make yo'self useful, son, and go git her and tell her to bring her Bible.'
"Rabbit Child hurry on off down the hill and Brother Rabbit get to his feet and shade his brow and look off into the distance.
"'Uh-oh,' he say to the prisoners in the hole. 'Dis don't look good for y'all. Appears de mens is startin' up de valley to check on dere trap. Ooooweee, what they gonna find! Won't be long now, Brothers, yessuh! When de time comes, I'm gonna tuck myself back in de bushes and watch dem mens fill you boys full o' holes!'
"'Course the rabbit don't see nothin' of the kind, no, he just want to see Brother Fox and Brother Bear squirm. And squirm they do, oh yes, they do. The fox, he howl, and the bear, he moan."
John Tinker sticks his head down into the passageway, saying, "We've got the mouth of the harbor, Jacky, and we're fair for the channel."
"Thanks, Tink," I answer. I put El Gringo back into the coop and stand, fist to small of back as I straighten. "All right, Sister Girl and Brother Boy, let's get to our stations."
Chapter 41
Carnival! Joy! Dancing in the street! Bands everywhere! Food stalls with mounds of steaming rice and meats! There is a conga line! And there's another! Let's get in that one—one-two-three, kick, one-two-three, kick! Yes! Here, Davy, hold on to my waist—one-two-three, kick! That's it! You got it! Oh, yes, Carnival!
The sponges are sold, and the mordida set aside. While the Nancy B. was not stopped by the San Cristobal on our way in, I do expect a visit from Cisneros soon, anyway.
Dr. Sebastian is off to see his intelligence contacts but expects to join us for dinner at Ric's tonight, and Higgins is off with his university scholars—don't expect to see him for a while. Thomas and McGee are bringing aboard fresh water and wood, and Jemimah, with the help of Joannie and Daniel, is restocking the pantry. Me? I'm off to Ric's with Davy and Tink.
On the way, we stop at the La Pelea de Gallos Arena so I can set up a fight for El Gringo tomorrow—and yes, it is to be with the undefeated El Matador. The ringmaster smiles slyly as he takes my entry fee.
"Gracias, Señorita. The purse is two hundred pesos. Buena suerte" he says, but I don't think he really means the good luck part. Well, we'll see ... and two hundred pesos, hey? That'll stand my crew a lot of treats.
When we get to Ric's, it is blazing with life. The days of Lent are nearly upon the Catholic populace, and they are making the most of the time they have left before everything gay shuts down for forty days. I have on my blue dress, and for once, it doesn't stand out amidst all the colorful garments. It is low-cut, yes, but it ain't the lowest bodice around, that's for sure. Though I love my adopted town of Boston, I like the free and easy nature of this place, too.
"And what will you give up for Lent, Jackass?" asks Davy as we make our way through the merrymakers on Plaza de San Francisco.
"Oh, probably good sense, caution, forbearance," I retort. "I'd like to give up chastity, but I guess that ain't gonna happen."
On our way into Ric's, I warn Davy and Tink, "Lads, Cisneros will probably show up here. No matter what he says and does to me, you must hold back." I squeeze both of their arms. "And you know why."
"What I don't know, Jacky," says Davy, "is why you're going to sing in this place tonight when you've already got a fortune in gold stashed in your hold?"
"Because, dear Davy," I say, poking my finger into the air, "for one, until that gold is safely delivered to Boston, where Ezra Pickering can safely dispose of it to our best ad vantage, we are no richer than we were before. Right now it is just simple dead-weight ballast to keep our ship upright in the waves, and that's all it is."
Davy just grunts at that.
"And two," I say, adding a finger to the first, "we are here to keep our ears open concerning the doings of the Spanish Navy. If the San Cristobal comes out and sinks us, we will get no joy from all that gold, as we will be drowned and dead. And three"—another finger joins the other two—"I like doing it. So there. Ah, here's Ric now."
Señor Ricardo Mendoza comes toward me, arms extended, great smile upon his face. "Nuestra cantante americana bonita, say you will sing for us tonight!"
"Of course, Señor Ric," I say, and take his hands and place a kiss upon his cheek. "And now a table if you would."
We are given a fine table in the middle of everything, just the way I like it, and good food and drink are brought and we lay to. Davy and Tink are dressed in their new nautical finery and are catching some admiring female glances. I notice that Tink has caught the notice of the girl serving our table—a black-haired beauty whose glossy ringlets dangle about her ivory oval of a face. Tink notices, too. Her lips are full and red, and there is a blush in her cheeks. Her eyes are modest and shy.
Right, I say to my ever-doubtful self, watching the play twixt the two. Real shy. Huh! I'll bet she scoped out Tink last time we were in and made sure she was assigned to this table. But, what the hell, she's a neat little piece, and Tink needs some female attention, so let's see what happens.
We eat
, we drink, we sing, and, yes, we dance, too. Davy and I are up doing a spirited hornpipe to a tune expertly strummed and drummed by the house band when Lieutenant Cisneros and a small group of Spanish junior officers come in and take a table close to ours. He does not take his eyes off mine.
Davy and I finish up with a flourish, take a bow, accept the applause, and head back to our table. Tink has gone off with the girl—I see that they are hand in hand and deep in conversation in an alcove across the room—and as we settle back in at our table, I am not surprised to see Cisneros on his feet and heading for me.
"Steady, Davy," I say, putting my hand on his arm. "Why don't you go have a drink at the bar during this? It'd be best, trust me."
He doesn't look convinced, but he gets up, casts a cold look in Cisneros's direction, and leaves.
The Spanish Lieutenant comes up and stands next to me, looking down.
"Lieutenant," I say. "You are here for la mordida, and here it is. Now go away." I fling the little bag of coins against his chest, and it falls back onto the table. "Go give it to your Captain. Perhaps he will pat your head."
As I suspected, he does not go away, but instead sits down and snarls, "Cierre su boca, puta. Shut up and listen. We know you were diving off Cayo Hueso. We also know that there was a British warship anchored next to you for the past few weeks. What is going on?"
