by L. A. Meyer
I start back up in that direction and get over to State Street, looking about me with fondness on this town where I washed up two years ago and which I've grown to love. I had some of the best of times here, as well as some of the worst, and it is here on this soil that I have made some of my finest and truest friendships. Ah, well, enough of that...
I trudge up State—oh, and there's The Pig. Ah, how I would love to stop in to see Maudie and ... no, not yet. Careful now, girl, you've no wish to dance your last dance at the end of a rope—and step onto Court Street and there's that hateful jail of which I have no fond memories whatsoever, having once spent a very uncomfortable night there, and there's the courthouse where I was tried and convicted, and there...
And there, from that same courthouse, comes a chattering gaggle of women. I know from the brightness of their dress and the amount of rouge and powder on their faces, they are Mrs. Bodeen's girls, once again having got into trouble with Wiggins and once again being released from custody—after a suitable bribe was paid, of course. They are followed shortly down the stairs by the plump form of Ezra Pickering, Attorney at Law and Clerk of the Corporation of Faber Shipping, Worldwide. And my dear friend and protector, as well. Having done his duty for Mrs. Bodeen and her girls, he is plainly headed back to his office, his sweet little half smile still in place, as always. Oh, Ezra, how good it is to see you again!
I keep on walking toward him, my head down and my veil carefully tucked about my lower face. As we draw near, he doffs his hat and murmurs, "Good day, Miss," but instead of nodding in return, I whip around to link my arm in his and commence walking in step with him.
"So, Ezra," I say, "and what is the state of Faber Shipping, Worldwide, then?"
He is ever the cool one. Though I could feel his arm tighten as I slipped mine in his, he does not even break stride.
"Ah, Jacky. So good to see you. Or part of you," he says, gazing at my eyes above the veil. "Are you cold?"
"No, Ezra," I say, "but there is a bit of a problem."
He sighs and pats my hand. "Of course."
We get back to his office, I doff my mantilla, we joyously embrace, and then I lay it all out before him—my time on the Wolverine, the taking of the prizes, including the Emerald, the buccaneering, the eventual loss of my ship, my own capture, the great battle, and my escape over the ocean back to here.
"Astounding. Absolutely astounding," he says when I am done. He shakes his head in wonder. "So the charge is piracy?"
I nod. "Aye. And a few others. I think they are especially miffed at my taking the Emerald without asking permission."
"You are probably right in thinking that. And miffed is hardly the word. The British Lion does not like having his nose tweaked," says Ezra, "particularly by a young girl barely halfway through her teens."
I look down at my hands in contrition. "I know, Ezra, that I tend to be a bit impulsive at times, but it all seems so reasonable at the time I do these things, and so unreasonable when everyone looks back at what happened and what I did."
"Well, I must say I expected nothing less of you, given your nature. But since you are quite obviously guilty of the crimes with which you are charged, we cannot fight this in any court, we can only contrive to hide you till this all blows over, if it ever does. You are sure Lord Nelson is dead?"
"Yes. It was the last signal I saw as I sailed out of range. I'm sure that both the Royal Navy and the country itself are devastated. For a little man, lacking an arm, one eye, and, sometimes, common sense, he was much loved by all who knew him."
"I'm sure. England's joy at Napoléon's fleet being destroyed and the homeland being saved from invasion would be severely mitigated by news of his death," says Ezra. He rises from his chair and clasps his hands behind him as he paces the floor, thinking. Good Ezra, keep on thinking and get me out of this mess. "However, we can turn this to our advantage," he continues. "There are three British warships in the harbor right now..."
"I know. I spotted them on my way in. His Majesty's ships Sirius, Aldebron, and Revenge. I stayed well away from them, you may be sure."
"Good. Now I shall put out word about the great victory and the death of Nelson and they will all be gone in the morning, rushing back to Britain to pick up whatever pieces need picking up. Carlson, come here!"
A young man appears from a side room. Hmm ... Ezra must be doing better—he has hired himself a clerk. Carlson looks over Ezra's shoulder, mystified at the sight of me sitting here looking all Spanish. Ezra gives him quick, concise instructions, and then the young man leaves to spread the word to the British ships. I can well imagine the uproar.
"Well," says Ezra, sitting down opposite me at his desk, "that takes care of that. I believe we shall be Brit free very shortly. Except for you, of course."
I sit quiet for a while and then I say, "For all of it, Ezra, the thing I regret most is the fact that the home for orphans that I had set up with my prizes will now go begging ... My poor, dear grandfather."
"I did receive your letter that you had sent from Waterford, hinting at what you had been up to," he says, "and I think I can set your mind at ease as to the London Home for Little Wanderers. Miss Amy Trevelyne, upon hearing the news of your letter, immediately directed me to forward all the proceeds of the book she had written concerning your early life—and those proceeds are considerable, believe me—to the orphanage, in your name."
Well, I'll be damned ... I guess that book did some good, after all.
"...and that brings me to another point. I have recently met with Mistress Pimm at the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls, trying to pry out of her very tight fist the tuition money you had left there so that you, or your orphanage, could have the benefit of it and I could finally get my commission out of all this, but she would have none of it." He pauses. "However, she did say that she had learned of the circumstances of your actions when you were last in Boston and that she was prepared to receive you back at the school, under certain conditions."
I am astounded. "But I thought the school was burned to the ground, and that I had caused—"
"You caused nothing. It was not your fault. The Lawson Peabody is being rebuilt and it is almost complete—and this time with bricks, not wood. The girls will be returning after Christmas"
"Oh, and Constable Wiggins?"
"Well, he has said he would like to question you about the fire"
"I bet he would," says I, putting my hand to my neck, which not so long ago had been encircled by that same Wig-gins's hand as he hauled me off to jail and deep disgrace. "Probably with the aid of a five-foot rod laid across my backside. I think I'd best be on my way."
"Now, wait, Jacky," says Ezra, coming around his desk. "Think on this: While the British have no jurisdiction here, there is nothing to prevent them from secretly nabbing you on the street should they spot you. The school would be an excellent place for you to hide until this thing blows over. You know that Mistress Pimm would never allow an unwelcome male through her doors, no matter what the reason, if there was a threat to one of her girls. She was a patriot during the Revolution and has no love for the British government. Your tuition is paid and winter is coming on. It is warm there and you have friends. Your only alternative is going to the frontier, and I don't think you would like that. It is very harsh there."
I think on this for a while, and I begin to see the wisdom of what he says. Winters here are cold, and if I do the singing-and-dancing thing in the taverns, I'm sure to be spotted by someone anxious to collect the reward. Even if I go back down to the Cape or over to New York or Philadelphia, it would be the same. British Intelligence has operatives everywhere. Maybe he's right...
"I still can't believe Mistress would take me back."
Ezra sits again and smiles at me. "I believe she considers you an especially challenging ... project."
"Hmmm. She is up at the school?"
"Yes, overseeing every nail, every board, every bit of trim. The school is being put back exactly as
before—except that it's bricks this time, not wood. For obvious reasons. That and the fact that it's now a law. Right after you left, as a matter of fact. The embers hadn't even cooled on Beacon Hill before the town fathers passed an ordinance forbidding any more wooden buildings within the city limits." Ezra leans back and smiles expansively. "So ... sic transit Jacky!"
"Very funny, Ezra," I say, and go silent for a while. Then I put on the Look and stick my nose in the air and say, "And Amy Trevelyne. What of her?"
"You must go see her. She has not been herself since you left."
"Why? I should think she would have felt well rid of me"
"I know what you are thinking: That she betrayed you to the Preacher's hired thugs. But that was a misunderstanding. When I received the letter from you and told her of it, she asked to see it and I reluctantly gave it to her. Her immense joy at knowing you were still alive and well was immediately dashed by the realization that you thought she had betrayed you."
I know I look doubtful, and still I say nothing.
"You must do this for her, Jacky."
I take a deep breath and then say, "Very well. I shall now go and pay a call on Mistress Pimm. And then tomorrow we shall go see Amy."
"That is both wise and good of you, Jacky. However, the coach does not run down to Quincy tomorrow."
"Just meet me at Codman's Wharf, Ezra, at eight o'clock in the morning," I say, "and we shall go to Dovecote. Bring a coat, and maybe a bit of brandy, as it might be chilly." I get up, take his hands in mine, kiss him on the cheek, and leave his office, my mantilla wrapped tight about my face.
The school is on the same spot, built on the same foundation, but it is now made of brick, red brick, and it has a slightly different kind of roof—but it is essentially the same, right down to the widow's walk perched up top. I imagine Mistress insisted. The stables have been rebuilt, too, but not the church. The churchyard remains, and I guess always will remain. I pause for a second by Janey Porter's grave on the other side of the stone wall, same as it was that first day I came upon it, except that now there is a gravestone put at her head.
Here Lyeth ye Body of
Jane Porter
A goode girl cut down in the prime
of her Sixteenth year.
1802 Requiescat in Pacem
I do hope you are resting in peace now, Janey, I do.
I stand for a while, and then I turn and enter the kitchen door, which is where it always was, opening through the stone foundation in the back.
It's like nothing had ever happened. Peg is standing at the steaming stove as usual and the girls are dashing about getting ready to serve dinner. Annie's mouth drops open upon seeing me and she gasps, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! It's Jacky!" I'd planned on saying something arch and clever, but when Peg turns and sees me and I see her sweet face, she who was like a mum to me, I start bawling and hold out my arms to her and am folded into her warm embrace.
Eventually I recover somewhat and we have a joyous reunion. Everyone's here 'cept Abby, who married the other Barkley boy and is now great with child, and I'm told Betsey and Ephraim will marry in the spring when they are fully set up in the furniture-making business. Annie still carries a torch for that Davy, and Sylvie Rossio and Henry Hoffman are still hand-fervently-in-hand and will marry as soon as their parents say they are old enough.
There are two new girls, the jolly Ruby McCourt, who's a cousin of the Byrnes sisters, and Katy Deere, a tall, thin, and very reserved girl from the frontier, who I am told just showed up one day at Peg's kitchen door, half starved and looking for work. She is very solemn and not much given to smiling.
We chatter on deliriously, and although I want to stay there with them forever, these, my sisters of the Dread Sisterhood of the Lawson Peabody Serving Girl Division, I must get something done. After gratefully accepting an invitation to spend the night with Annie and her family, I ask about and am told that Mistress's office is in the same place it used to be, so I climb the stairs to the second floor and approach the door. I smooth down the front of my dress, take a deep breath, and knock.
"Come in," says the voice from within.
I open the door and enter. All the furniture is new, as are the rugs and curtains, but the white line is still drawn upon the floor. Although I have seen and done a lot of things since last I left this place, I go up and put my toes on the line and I am once again a schoolgirl. Mistress Pimm, Headmistress of the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls, is seated at her desk, her iron-gray hair drawn back in that same severe bun.
"Good day, Mistress." I fix my eyes on a spot on the far wall and wait.
She looks up and says, "Ah, Miss Faber. So, you have returned to us." She regards me without expression. "I do not, however, recall having dismissed you when you left last year."
"No, Mistress, but at the time it seemed the best thing for all concerned." Being that the school and church and stables were all burning down, largely because of me ... well, totally because of me.
She smiles slightly at this and says, "Perhaps so. Well, I have spoken with your attorney and informed him that you are welcome to come back to resume your studies, as you still have tuition on the books, and, if I guess right, you still have not attained your majority. That is, if you are still innocent."
That again.
"Yes, Mistress," I say, and think to myself, It was a close thing a few times, but...
"When last I asked that question, you blushed. This time you did not. Why is that?"
"Much water under the bridge, Mistress."
She nods. "Will you come back?"
"I would be honored, Mistress," I say.
"Where are you staying?"
"I'll stay the night with the Byrnes sisters. Tomorrow, I must go see Miss Trevelyne. I hear she is poorly."
She considers this. "Very well. But when you come back into this school, you will be completely under my guidance and tutelage. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Good. Now you will join me for dinner." She reaches up to pull on her tasselled cord. Far off, I hear a bell, and I know that Annie or one of the others will be on her way up. "And you will tell me of your travels."
I will and I do.
Chapter 7
"You know," says Ezra, "this is not entirely unpleasant."
He certainly had looked dubious about the whole notion of getting to Quincy by boat this morning when first he shakily boarded the Morning Star, but now, as we cut cleanly through the calm waters of Boston Bay under a sky of brilliant blue, he appears to have changed his mind. He relaxes against the railing, then says, "Ah yes, me, for the life on the open sea. And I did not even need my coat. Yo, ho, ho."
I have to smile at the notion of the newly nautical Mr. Pickering. "Indeed, it is a fine day, Ezra," says I from my place at the tiller. "But you can never trust the sea completely, as Father Neptune can turn nasty in a minute. It is his nature to suddenly test those who would presume to ride in comfort upon his ocean."
"I shall take that advice to heart, Miss Alsop," says Ezra, using my alias for the benefit of Jim Tanner, who is trimming the sail and who, while proving to be a good lad, cannot be completely trusted yet. Two hundred and fifty pounds is a lot of money and would be a mighty temptation to a penniless boy.
"Here, Master Tanner, be so good as to take the tiller. Steer between those two islands up ahead. I must check the chart." Saying that, I get up, hand the tiller over to him, and duck down into the cuddy to get the map. He squints up at the sail and alters his course a bit. It seems he does know a good bit of small-boat handling.
Jim is now decked out in new shirt and trousers, of which he is most proud. If he proves worthy, he shall get shoes and, when winter really sets in, a monkey jacket that will hold him in good stead if he continues to follow a seafaring life ... Have your monkey jacket always at your command, for beware the cold nor'westers on the Banks of New Found Land, as the song goes. I intend to put both the Star and Jim to work. When we re
turn from Dovecote, I will buy some fish-and-lobster traps and Jim shall tend them with the Star so we'll make some money so I'll be able to pay for his keep. I really don't think I can chance playing in any of the local taverns, and Mistress ain't gonna allow me out, anyway. Buying the traps and keeping Jim fed will be a drain on my meager finances, but I should see a good return on my money. I don't have much, but I do have a sturdy little boat and a promising young coxswain.
Yesterday, after I had dinner with Mistress and before I headed to the Byrnes's place, I went back down to the docks and found that Jim had indeed found a more permanent and secure mooring for our Star and was standing by, as ordered. I noticed, too, that he had bailed the bilges completely, without being told to, and that pleased me greatly.
So pleased was I that I took him up into the town, bought him a meat pie from a vendor in the marketplace, and then went into a dry-goods store. There I purchased the pair of trousers, the drawers, and the blue striped shirt he now wears, all of which I refused to let him put on just then. We then proceeded up the street till we came to a wash-house that I knew of. As soon as Jim saw just what I was up to, he tried to run, but I grabbed his arm and held it tight and said through my teeth, "You do this and I'll allow you to sleep inside the cuddy from now on. But you will not climb dirty into my Morning Star bed, count on it, boy." Besides, if you want to work for Faber Shipping, Worldwide, you must be clean and presentable, by God.
"Here, Madam," I said to the washerwoman, who stood between her steaming tubs of water. "Wash this down thoroughly and then dress it up in these clean clothes. Spare not any part of him with your brush." He squalled, but the old woman took him by the scruff of his neck and tossed him inside. I paid the woman the amount she demanded for the task at hand.
