by L. A. Meyer
And then, sure enough, Constance Howell's enraged voice comes at me.
"She's going to do it again! No, no, no! I will not have it, and I will not have one such as her as the leader!"
I sigh and say, "I'm not the leader, Connie, you know that. There are three of us. I'm—"
"How can you stand there and say that you did that without shame?" she asks, outraged at my conduct then, and even more at my willingness to talk about it now.
"You've got to remember, Connie, that at the time, I was almost certainly going to be taken back to England and then, just as surely, hanged. So a little worldly bliss before the big drop, choke, and swing ... Well, you may fault me for it, but I don't."
"I certainly do fault you for it and I want no more of your awful story. There are impressionable young girls here and ... you ... you're nothing but a common tart! You're nothing but a..."
The sound starts somewhere to my left, as a low hmmmmm ... first one girl, then another, then some more off to my right. Then more, and louder. The warning sound fills the Hold of the Bloodhound, thirty throats thrumming, throbbing, and full of menace, directed toward Constance Howell.
She is silenced. I believe she shall have no more comments on me and my ways.
When the hmmmmm dies away, and all is quiet, I start up again.
"'Fill your eyes with me, Jaimy, and then kiss me, and kiss me hard and long, for it may be the last time.'
"He does, oh, yes, he does.
"'Now go, Jaimy.'
"And with one last feverish kiss, he does that, too."
I end it here for the evening. I do believe I hear more than one deep, heartfelt sigh out there in the dark.
Chapter 35
Another day. Flaps up, Sin-Kay down.
We line up, yawning and stretching.
Sin-Kay starts taking the roll, Frazier ... Goodwin ... Hawthorne ... Howe...
Am I imagining it, or does he approach Clarissa's name with a certain dread?
"Heah, Mistah Stinkey!" is all she says, but there is a mischievous light in her eyes.
Sin-Kay moves down the line. Howell ... Johnson ... King...
"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe. Catch a Stinkey by the toe! If he hollers, let him go! Eeny, meeny, miney, moe!" Clarissa bursts out loudly in singsong, gaily bouncing on her toes. I think I hear some snickering out on the deck.
Sin-Kay comes back to face her. "You think that was funny?"
"Yassuh, Mistah Stinkey. I think it's very funny. Now, how funny you gonna think it is when my daddy catches you for what you done? Only he goin' to catch you by the neck, not by the toe, and I don't think he's evah, evah gonna let you go. Nope! Not till you're hangin' there dead, and bugs eat out your eyes."
"It is going to be such a pleasure seeing you up on the block," says Sin-Kay, then sighing softly. He goes on. Leavitt ... de Lise ... Lowell...
He gets to the end of the line, snaps his notebook shut, and leaves the Hold.
But Clarissa is not done with him this day, oh no, not yet.
After we all have had our breakfast burgoo and are handing our spoons and bowls back in, I'm noticing that Clarissa keeps looking up at Barbara Samuelson, who's on port-side aft watch.
"Clarissa!" she says. "He's back on deck!"
"Good. Caroline, come on!"
Uh-oh, I'm thinking. What's going on?
Both Caroline Thwackham and Clarissa Howe race up the stairs to the port-side Balcony and position themselves by the bars.
"You know what I was wonderin', Clarabelle?" asks Clarissa, loudly. Loud enough for anyone on deck to hear.
"What was you wonderin', Annabelle dear?" inquires Caroline, just as loud, back at her. It appears that the two have worked out a skit of sorts.
"I was wondering about our dear Mistah Stinkey..."
I go up on the Balcony and look out and see that Sin-Kay is standing by the rail, his back to us, his hands clasped behind him.
"You were?"
"Yes, I was, Clarabelle," says Clarissa. "I was picturin' him gettin' up in the mornin', jus' before he does his little ol' thing with all us adorin' girls."
"Yes?"
"I was thinkin' how he must get up from his feather bed, from out of the softness of his damask sheets, all refreshed from his night's rest—"
"Havin' been sleepin' the sleep of the just, Annabelle, uh-huh."
"Even so, Clarabelle, I was thinkin' just that. Then I was thinkin' how he must rise up and put on his rare silken undergarments..."
"Uh-huh."
"Then he pulls his fine hose over his legs and then puts on those fine, fine britches"
"Uh-huh, I can see him doin' it," says Caroline, who's turning out to be quite the comic actress here. Best be careful, both of you. I'm beginning to worry about this. You've pushed him enough, Clarissa. Pull back! But she won't...
"Then he puts on a crisp, clean, frilly white shirt with all that Italian lace trimmin'..."
"And then?"
"And then he puts on that fine deep purple coat that all us girls admire so much..."
"And then?"
"And then he puts on his fine French cologne ... a lot of it, splashin' it all around."
"And then?"
"Maybe a little powder here and there..."
"And then?"
"And then he looks in the mirror," says Clarissa, and her voice has grown hard.
I'm keeping my eyes on Sin-Kay's back, and I've been seeing his head sink lower and lower between his bunched shoulders. His neck is swelling over his collar. Don't do this, Clarissa!
"And then?"
"Why, Clarabelle," says Clarissa, "he looks in the mirror and his shoulders slump and then he moans, 'For all my finery, still just a nigra...'"
Oh Lord.
Sin-Kay turns and heads for the hatchway. In a moment he is down the stairs and the key is in the lock of the gate. I fly back down to the Stage, just as he bursts into the Hold. I can see that he is enraged beyond all reason. He spies Clarissa on the stairs to the Balcony, lurches toward her, grabs her by the hair, and drags her squealing to the gate.
He pulls back her head and snarls into her face, "That's it! You're going over the side! You will be dead within minutes!"
With that, he drags her up the stairs, yelling to Hughie, "Get out of the way, you idiot!" and Hughie, terrified, stumbles back out of the hatchway.
"Nettles!" shouts Sin-Kay, as he and his screeching burden go out the upper door. "Lock the gate!"
Nettles starts to swing the gate shut, but I'm on a dead run toward him. The gate is two inches from closing and locking when I hit it with my shoulder, rocking Nettles back against the wall.
"Help me!" I shout, and slam him again with the gate. Katy and Rose and Chrissy are at my side. "Get him again!"
We pull back the gate and smash it against him. And then again. He is stunned, but still he manages to struggle out from behind it. I leap in front of him and lift my knee and get him in the crotch. He coughs and doubles over. That's one for Hughie, you miserable little toad! And here's another!
Nettles crumples to the floor, gasping.
"He's done! Come on, we've got to help her! Katy, you stay here and watch our stuff." She knows what I mean and nods. "Kill anyone who spots the Rat Hole!" Again she nods, then heads down to the Pit, no doubt to arm herself.
"Everybody else," I shout, "out of the Hold! Scatter about the ship! Make them haul you back! Climb up the rigging, scatter all around the deck, but don't go down below up forward and don't let anyone take you down there! Got it? All right, let's go!"
And the ladies of the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls pour out of the hatchway, with me and Dolley in the lead.
Bursting out into the light, I see that Sin-Kay intends to do as he says. He's got Clarissa bent over the rail. He has gripped her hair in his left hand, and with his right hand he has grabbed the seat of her drawers and is preparing to pitch her over the side.
Dolley and I both dive at her and grab a leg each.
It doesn't seem to be doing any good. Sin-Kay seems intent on throwing Clarissa over the rail and into the sea. I catch a look at her face and she is no longer squalling—she is just staring down at the churning waves below, looking, in fact, at eternity. It is a look I've never before seen on her face.
Dolley and I tighten our grips on Clarissa's legs. Just hold on, Dolley, just hold on!
There is the sound of boots near us, and I know it is Captain Blodgett.
"What the hell is going on?" he bellows.
"This one is going over the side! We have to make an example of her!" answers Sin-Kay, his chest heaving with the exertion of trying to heave Clarissa overboard.
"Like hell she is!" roars the Captain. "She's worth at least ten thousand dollars! I ain't seein' that go over!"
"We'll take it out of my share! Get over, you! Let go!" He hauls back and gives Dolley, who's on the left leg, a swift kick in her belly. She grunts, but does not let go.
"Your share, hell! Simon wanted this one especially to go up on the block!"
"This is my cargo, Captain, and I will decide what I will do with them."
"Your cargo? My ship, Sin-Kay, and never forget it! And now, oh Christ! Damn! They're all out now!"
I look to the side and see white-clad forms scattering everywhere about the ship. Good girls!
"This one must be punished!" says Sin-Kay, his furious face in the Captain's equally furious face.
"Punished? You want punished? I'll give you punished!" shouts the Captain. He strides to the mast and snatches the Cat from its hook. Lunging back, he shoves the butt of it in Sin-Kay's face and forces Clarissa out of his grasp. Sin-Kay staggers back to the rail. I nod to Dolley and we both let go our grip.
The Captain drags Clarissa over to the hatchway and stands her up. He swings the Cat and catches Clarissa across her upper legs. She screeches and he lashes her again and yet again and then pushes her down the hatchway. "That's punished. Now get the rest of them back in now! All hands! Catch them and put them down!"
I watch my sisters whooping and hallooing about the ship, and I grab Dolley's hand and say, "Dolley! Go down in the Hold, and as the girls are caught and sent down, line them up in the inspection line so's we can account for all of them. Some sailor may try to spirit one away!"
She nods and heads down, sorry, I think, to be missing the fun, but ever mindful of her duty.
Me? I head for the bow and the hatchway that I know will take me down below to the crew's quarters and beyond. Before I duck in, I take a belaying pin from its rack at the rail and stick the clublike thing in my waistband.
I clatter down the ladder. On the right I see the open area where the men would swing their hammocks at night and on the left is the galley, still not cleaned up from breakfast. Behind me is the chain locker, where the anchor chain rests when not in use. Ha! There's another ladder, to the lower level, and I waste no time in clambering down it.
It's a lot darker on this level, but enough light comes through the hatchway that, as my eyes become used to the gloom, I can see well enough to get around. Here's a room to the right. I open the door and see that it's a storeroom ... for food, mostly—there's flour spilled on the deck and stacked firkins, which I guess are for lard and such. I close the door and go farther down the passageway. Another storeroom to the left and then—ah—then there's a door with heavy leather curtains hanging in front of it: the powder magazine! I pull the leather aside and see that the door is secured with a heavy, strong lock. Well, I expected that ... I mean, what Captain wouldn't lock up his powder? Especially one who denies weapons to most of his men. Well, there's more than one way into a room, and not just through the door.
What I wasn't looking for was a great piece of luck, but I find it nonetheless: Right next to the magazine I see a door with a latch. I lift the latch and poke my head in and—Oh, joy!—it is our own dear storeroom! I close the door and study the latch and find that it is really quite simple—it's got one slug that swings over and down, and another that swings from the other side over on top of that one. I'll need my shiv and another piece of metal of some sort to hold up one lever while I'm lifting the other one. But I'll be able to manage that easily with the tools in the storeroom.
All right, now to trace my way out. Since next time I'll be doing it in the pitch dark, I'd better take careful notice. First, it's out the storeroom door, to go straight for one, two, three, four paces to the ladder. Next it's up the ladder, eight steps, feel the top landing, then twelve paces to the next ladder. Remember this now, you. The door to the anchor-chain locker is behind that ladder, another six paces.
I'm about to go back up this ladder into the light to join in the melee, but there's a commotion at the top. I duck back into the galley and peek around the side.
Hmmm ... It's a sailor, one I recognize as the scummy cove who asked Blackman Bart Simon for the use of the serving girls on that first day when we were taken. I guess that thought was never far from his mind, 'cause he's sure got one now. He's got Annie Byrnes, with one arm round her waist and the hand of the other arm over her mouth. She is struggling mightily, kicking out with hands and feet, clinging to any handhold to prevent herself from being taken down. But he is twice her size and she is going to lose the fight.
I don't know where he's planning to take her ... Ah, he has gone under the ladder, so it is to be the chain locker. Not a very soft bridal bed for our Annie, you cur, I think as I come round with the belaying pin and lay it hard on the back of his skull. He pitches forward, clutching his head and groaning. I swing back and hit him again. This time he does nothing but slump down.
Annie crawls out from beneath him, breathing hard.
"Come on!" I say. "Let's get you back in the Hold! You've been handled enough!"
Brushing her hair out of her eyes with the back of her forearm, she follows me down into the bowels of the Bloodhound. We reach the storeroom door, I open the latches, and we go in and close it behind us.
"The Rat Hole is over there. On your hands and knees, now, follow me."
I feel her hand on my ankle as I crawl toward the Hole and then through it—and stop cold. I feel a sharp point against my temple and I know it to be an arrowhead.
"Katy!" I hiss. "It's just me, Jacky. And I've got Annie, too."
The arrow is withdrawn and we go out into the gloom below the Stage.
"What's happening?" I ask Katy.
"Dolley's checking 'em in up on the Stage as they're tossed down. About half of 'em are back."
"Good," I say. "And great news, Katy! I've found—"
"Uh," says Katy, "one thing ... That girl Elspeth. She went up, too, and she ain't been back."
I suck in my breath. Damn!
I can't go back the way I came, 'cause I can't take the time to fiddle with the latch. Straight out of the Pit and across the Stage and up the hatchway is the only answer, and I do it, pushing my way up past the girls who are being shoved back down the stairs. When I reach the top, I see Keefe holding a struggling Barbara Samuelson and I slide past him, avoiding the grip of another sailor who tries to catch me. Momentarily free, I look frantically about me and ... There! On the port quarter! She's got one leg over and is looking down into the water. She lifts the other leg to bring it over. There is no expression on her face.
I rush to go there, but I am grabbed by a seaman I do not know.
"Keefe!" I shriek. "Drop that one! Go get the girl back there!" I've managed to free one arm from the sailor's grasp to point at Elspeth, teetering on the rail. "She's gonna jump!"
Keefe looks, drops Barbara, and bounds across the deck. He reaches his right arm around Elspeth's waist just as she launches herself off. He swings her back aboard and gathers her up.
He puts her into the hatchway just as I am thrown there by my own guardian sailor. I put my arm on her shoulder and reach up to Keefe and squeeze his hand and say, "T
hank you, Keefe! You've just lessened your time in Hell for that!" I strain my neck upward and plant a kiss upon his bristly cheek, and then I am forced down into the Hold with the rest.
The inspection line is still being formed under Dolley's supervision. I put Elspeth in her place and go to find Constance Howell. Sullen and seething, she is standing to the side and brushing off her arms as if they are unclean. "I have never before been handled in such a way, never!"
"Well, offer it up, Connie, and consider that you have done your duty," I say, but I ain't done with her yet. I reach over and take her by the arm and pull her along with me, ignoring her protests.
"What are you doing?" she cries, and tries to wriggle free, but my grip is too strong.
"You are being assigned another duty, Constance How-ell, and this is it." We have come to stand over Elspeth, who has crumpled to the deck. "I just saw her try to kill herself. We cannot let that happen. You are to counsel this girl. Comfort her. Pray over her. You are to teach her that it is a sin in our religion to kill yourself. Will you do that? Will you bring your faith to bear on this matter and save this girl?"
There is tumult all around us. She could jerk her arm away from my hand and go back to her place. But she does not. She merely nods and crouches down and puts her hand on Elspeth's shoulder.
I look to the others. They jabber happily away with, "I have never been pawed in such a disgraceful way before!" or "It took three of the brutes to corner me!" and "I fetched that one a good kick that he won't forget!"
Clarissa lies facedown at the edge of the Stage, the knuckles of her left hand between her teeth. She stares off into the Pit. Whether she is thinking about how close she came to death or whether she is remembering the sting of the lash, I don't know. All I know is her eyes lift and meet mine and an understanding passes between us.
I nod and turn to the others. "All right," I say. "Is everyone all right?"
They all own that they are, yes, all right and have survived their adventure above decks in good order.
"Is everybody back?"
"Everybody except Rebecca Adams," answers Dolley quietly. The place falls silent.
Lord. I head for the hatchway but I know I ain't gonna be able to get back out. Oh, Rebecca...
