The Wake of the Lorelei Lee: Being an Account of the Further Adventures of Jacky Faber, On Her Way to Botany Bay

by Louis A. Meyer

  When all are back at their various levels, I lean over the edge of the balcony and call out, "Ladies, we've got to talk."

  In the gloom below, Mrs. Elizabeth Barnsley's angry red face appears.

  "What you want, girl?"

  "I think we've got to organize. In teams, like, so we can better our condition."

  She looks up at me.

  "And just who the hell are you?"

  "Mary Faber. And I've been to sea before, so I know how things work."

  "So what? All I noticed was you grabbing the best deck for you and your gang."

  "Yes, but ... I can—"

  "What you can do is shut up. You and your gels is nothin' but Newgate trash ... thieves and such. That's all you are. Me and my gels has been workin' an honest profession. Ain't never stole nothin'...Just give o' ourselves for the joy o' our gentlemen. That's all we did."

  What? Trash?

  "Aye, I've noticed you've claimed the nice deck, but we'll see who's sleepin' there after Gibraltar, sweetie, and I'll wager it'll be me and my gels, not yours. Now, get yerself off, twit."

  Well, I guess Plan B ain't gonna be workin' neither.

  Chapter 16

  The Shipping Gazette

  Edition of June 23, 1807

  ***

  Excerpts of the Court-Martial of Lieutenant

  James Emerson Fletcher, Royal Navy,

  held this week at the Naval Base at

  Portsmouth,

  Vice Admiral Wm. Chamberlain, Presiding

  ***

  Dear Reader,

  The following is an account of the more cogent aspects of the testimony of evidence presented against Lt. Fletcher and his replies thereto. He was charged by this Court of the Crime of Conspiracy to Defraud the King of His Rightful Treasure, in Collusion with the already Condemned Mary Faber. Your Reporter was present during the entire proceedings.

  All were sworn in, the charges were read, and Lt. Henry Flashby, Royal Navy, was called forward to give testimony.

  King's Counsel, the Honorable David St. George:

  "State your name."

  "Henry Flashby, Lieutenant, His Majesty's Royal Navy."

  "And were you not on His Majesty's Ship Dolphin, during a mission to the Caribbean Sea this past year?"

  "I was."

  "And in what capacity?"

  "As Intelligence Officer, to oversee the execution of the Mission."

  "Which was...?"

  "To recover gold from a sunken Spanish galleon."

  "Did the mission succeed?"

  "Yes, to a degree."

  "To what degree?"

  "To the degree that the female diver on the wreck, Mary Faber, known to the criminal world as Jacky Faber, did not allow the King the full measure of the recovered gold, gold sorely needed to fund the Treasury in this time of war."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that she set aside a large amount of the gold for herself ... and her friends, of whom Mr. Fletcher is one."

  At this point, Attorney Joseph Williams, Barrister and Counsel to Mr. Fletcher, leaped to his feet and made objection to the implied insinuation.

  "My lord, the Witness is making allegations against Mr. Fletcher that cannot be proved!"

  Admiral Chamberlain:

  "Objection denied. Come, come, Mr. Williams, it is common knowledge that the female has already been convicted and condemned for her crimes, and also that the Defendant has had a long-standing relationship with her. Let us proceed. Mr. St. George."

  "Lieutenant Flashby, just how did the female in question manage this theft of the King's property?"

  "It was my theory, as a trained Intelligence Officer, that she had secreted great amounts of the gold from her ship, under cover of darkness, to an island known locally as Key West, and had it buried there."

  "Ah, just like the pirates of old, eh?"

  "Yes, Sir. I attempted to intervene, but was deceived by the female and subjected to grievous personal harm."

  "Your Honor, I object. This is nothing but supposition."

  "Pretty reasonable 'supposition' I must say, considering the girl's past history!"

  The esteemed Panel took a few moments to guffaw at this.

  "Proceed, Mr. St. George."

  "Yes, Sir. Now, Lieutenant Flashby ... what led you to believe that something of this nature was happening?"

  "I overheard a conversation between the girl Faber and Mr. Fletcher onboard the Dolphin. They thought themselves private on the fo'c's'le, but I was there..."

  "And...?"

  "And I heard her whisper to him, 'Steady on, Jaimy, if there is much gold to be found, then we shall have a good bit of it, count on that! Steady on, my love, and to hell with the King!' "

  It was here that Lieutenant Fletcher appeared visibly agitated, and had to be restrained by his attorney.

  "You swear that to be true, Lieutenant Flashby?"

  "On my honor, Sir."

  "Very well, you may step down. Mr. Williams, you may call your first witness."

  "I call Captain Hannibal Hudson, Master and Commander of HMS Dolphin."

  Captain Hannibal Hudson was summoned to give testimony, but even though he pronounced himself fully convinced of the innocence of Mr. Fletcher, he could not provide corroborating evidence and was asked to stand down.

  "I now call Lieutenant James Emerson Fletcher, to speak in his own defense."

  This was later to be seen as a not particularly wise move on the part of the defense, as Mr. Fletcher seemed to be in no mood to be amenable.

  "Your name, Sir?"

  "James Emerson Fletcher, Lieutenant, Royal Navy."

  "You have pled innocent of all these charges."

  "Yes."

  "How do you refute them?"

  "By calling that goddamned Flashby a bald-faced liar, Sir!"

  "Please, Sir, restrain yourself, or I shall find you in Contempt of Court!"

  "Contempt of Court? Why, Sir, if you believe the lies of that sniveling coward, then I have nothing but contempt for this goddamned Court!"

  Not a wise thing for Mr. Fletcher to say, as it turned out. He attempted to lunge at Mr. Flashby and was prevented from doing that gentleman physical harm only by the swift action of several burly bailiffs.

  "I'll kill you, you slimy bastard, if it's the last thing I do on this earth!"

  "Order! By God, I'll have order here or I'll slap you all in the brig! Order!"

  Mr. Fletcher was again restrained, a look of pure fury upon his face, as quiet was once more restored to the proceedings.

  "The evidence has been heard and we are ready to render a verdict. Do you have any final words to say for yourself, Mr. Fletcher?"

  "Verdict? Yes, and I know what the verdict will be, and you can all go straight to hell!"

  "Sir! Please control yourself!"

  "If you are going to hang her, then you can hang me by her side! That is the only request of this so-called court that I will make! Together we shall leave this corrupt world, kept apart in this life yet joined together in death, and damned be to you all!"

  It was plain to your humble reporter that Mr. Fletcher had not yet been apprised of Miss Faber's fate—that she had been sentenced not to hanging but rather to Transportation for Life. Had Lieutenant Fletcher but known that and had managed to control his temper and not deliver that vain glorious closing speech, his future might have been much brighter.

  "Very well, Mr. Fletcher, you have been found Guilty of Conspiracy to Defraud the King and are sentenced to the following. You are to be stripped of rank, banished from the Service, and Condemned to Seven Years Transportation to New South Wales! Take him away!"

  Mr. Fletcher was removed from the courtroom and taken to the Hulks. I thank you for your attention to this article.

  I remain Your Humble Correspondent,

  Joseph Michael Marks

  Chapter 17

  Despite Mrs. Elizabeth Barnsley's refusal to follow my advice, the women of the Lorelei Lee do form
up into groups. In addition to Mrs. Barnsley's considerable bunch—now called the Lizzies, after their leader—there is a large brothel from Liverpool called the Judies, because of the song, and another from Glasgow, called, quite naturally, the Tartans. The Judies are led by Mrs. Berry, and the Tartans by Mrs. MacDonald, both large women of a certain age, and while they are formidable, 'tis plain that Mrs. Barnsley is the top madam and equally obvious that she intends to remain in that position ... and that she will brook no smart lip from a snip like me, as she has made very plain.

  This sure ain't the Bloodhound, and these women sure ain't the girls of the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls.

  And so it is, by former affiliation and inclination, that the female Crews are set. There will be minor defections, but things will remain essentially as they are: the Lizzies, the Judies, and the Tartans ... and us.

  My group is called the Newgaters Crew, since most of us came from that foul pit, or from places very similar—convicted thieves, scammers, petty criminals, and such. Knowing that things will get political very soon with battles over turf down below decks, Maggie and I had circulated through the bunch of uncommitted felons to find what we thought were the best of the lot and let them join with us. There were some real hard cases amongst the throng, so we were more than willing to let those join up with the brothel crews. We've got twelve in our batch, counting me, and they all seem like good sorts. The seven new ones in our the group are Ann Marsh, Hannah Bolt, Catherine Wilmot, Sarah Verriner, Phoebe Williams, Elizabeth Parry, and Isabella Manson. I suspect there will be more, but we shall see.

  When we're through with our recruiting, I call them all together for a meeting. They sit before me on the deck of the top level.

  "All right, girls, listen to me if you will. I'm the one speaking because I have been to sea before, so I know the way of things out here. First of all, you should know what will not be tolerated on a ship. Thievery, is one. I know that some of you have been convicted of this crime, myself included, but don't steal anything else, ladies, for it will get you whipped if not worse. Y'see, a sailor has stashed all of his worldly belongings in his seabag, and since it's stowed right next to his hammock, it's easy prey for a scoundrel, and he pure hates it when somebody steals some of his stuff. So, none o' that. Number two, fightin' and other disorder. This angers the officers above all else. If someone provokes you or slanders your name, you come see me and I'll take care of it. And trust me, I will. Otherwise you will feel the sting of the rod or the lash. I myself have suffered the horrid bite of the whip, and believe me, girls, it ain't at all pleasant. Do you see this whip scar here?"

  I yank down the top of my dress to show the welt Captain Blodgett's cat-o'-nine-tails had left on my back.

  "Understood? Good."

  I continue. "Now. The question of money. You heard what the Captain said about the auction of the living spaces. When we get to Gibraltar, the other three Crews will be making some serious money in their usual way, so we got to be thinkin' about makin' some of our own. Otherwise, if we are found penniless, we will soon find ourselves down on the lowest deck, with the rats."

  That gets a common shiver from 'em, they being very familiar with those rodents from their times in the streets, in Newgate, or in the Hulks. And, yes, rats there are on the Lorelei Lee. Though she is a young ship, she still has a full complement of the little buggers. I have pictured them climbing aboard on the land lines when we are in port, little seabags over their shoulders, chuckling their ratty little chuckles and lookin' for good berths. Well, can't blame 'em for that, can we? That's all that any of us want. And it could be that they'll come in handy someday. They certainly have before.

  "So, what I propose is that we pick up the laundry concession."

  This is met with some groans.

  "Look. It ain't so bad. In fact, there are some advantages—like plenty of water and soap to keep ourselves, our hair, and our linen clean. There will be plenty of work to be done in that regard, especially after the Lizzies, the Judies, and the Tartans have plied their trade in Gibraltar." I hold my nose on that one and get a few laughs.

  "And do not mistake me, they will laugh at you for working hard in the laundry whilst they loll about all day..."

  "Yeah," chimes in Ann Marsh. "But we'll laugh at them for a-gettin' the pox and passin' it on't' their fine fellows so's that they walks with a limp and their noses fall off!"

  More laughter, and that seals the deal.

  "And I think we might do well with sewing, too. Half the women on this ship are wearin' rags."

  "But how do you think we'll be able to do all that?" asks Esther. "The laundry, cloth for the sewing, and all?"

  "I got an in with the Assistant Purser, is how," I answer. "Now, if any of you would rather go join the whorey Crews, do it now 'cause I can't have any slackers on my Crew."

  There, I have said it: My Crew ... and let there be no doubt of that.

  After the girls seem settled, I go topside to see just how far this Captain's pronouncement of "freedom of the ship" goes.

  I poke my head up into the light at the top of the hatchway, and so far, so good. I am not stopped and thrown back below. The sailors go about their duties as always, there are officers on the quarterdeck, and work proceeds just as it does on any ship at sea.

  I grab a ratline and head for the foretop, my natural place on any ship. I flip up over the edge and, Oh, Glory! To be here is such a gift! It is a glorious, soaring, sunlit day. The sails are well set and taut, and the Lorelei Lee fairly rips along. She is not my ship now, but still I can revel in this moment. I lean my back against the foremast, as I have so many times before, and let my mind wander back to London.

  Ah, Jaimy ... I do so hope that you are well and have been cleared of all the false charges laid against your good name, and I wish that with all my heart. But, alas, probably I'll never learn the outcome of that travesty of justice.

  I, myself, am condemned for life to New South Wales, and it sure looks like I'm gonna end up there, short of shipwreck or an act of God. And ... Jaimy ... though I love you, I do not know that I can worry about you forever because the years are sure to dull the edge of my love and my fears.

  Y'see, Jaimy, I'm goin' off for the rest of my life, but you have not yet been so condemned. I will always keep you uppermost in my thoughts and prayers, Jaimy, but at the same time, I'm hoping that you will find someone other than me, as I have been nothing but trouble.

  Be well, love, and happy...

  "Wot's this, then? One o' the below-decks-dollies come to visit with a poor sailor, bless 'er." My foretop reverie has been interrupted by the unwelcome arrival of two sailors on the foretop, both big and both ugly.

  "Bless yerself, Mate, and leave me be."

  "Hey, ain't she a nice little piece, Monk?" asks the uglier of the two.

  "Got a mouth on 'er, too," says the other, the very aptly named Monk—I half expect him to start scratchin' at his armpits and begin jumpin' around chitterin'. "She's a bit dirty, but a dip in the dunkin' stool'd take care o' that. Fix 'er smart mouth, too." They hunker down next to me.

  "You been taken up by any man yet?" The other bloke grins down on me. "If not, ye are now, and lucky you, as you will soon find out."

  "Sod off, Jack," I say, getting to my feet and sticking my nose in the air. "Captain said we didn't have to if we didn't want to, and I don't want to. You heard what he said about forcin' us."

  "Me name ain't Jack, little Miss," he growls, grabbin' me by the arm. "It's Suggs ... Suggs, darlin,' to you."

  "Yer name's gonna be mud if you don't let me go, Suggs, darling. I got friends here." I growl with warning in my tone and shake off his hand.

  "Friends? Who you got? You ain't got nothing, girl."

  "You'll see..."

  "Maybe," says this Suggs. "Let's just see you git down." He goes and stands over the lubbers' hole, crossin' his arms and thinkin' to block my exit from the foretop.

  I, of course, go to the edge of
the platform, leap out, grab on to the fore backstay, and scamper down, hand over hand, dress blowin' about my waist. And any sick-in-the-head bloke what gets some pleasure outta seein' my filthy drawers is welcome to the sight.

  Silly sailors, to think you can confine Jacky Faber in the riggin ... Ha!

  Swinging down to the deck, I give Suggs and Monk up above a two-fingered salute to my brow as I press on. I had thought of givin' 'em the universal single-finger obscene gesture, but thought better of it. Nay, no sense makin' any more enemies than you already have.

  As I pass the quarterdeck, I see that the First Mate, Mr. Ruger, has the con ... and he also notices me as I stride across the deck.

  "The first dolly up and about," he says to those on his watch. "It must be a brave, brave girl, indeed!" Chuckles all around.

  I thrust my nose in the air and proceed forward.

  As I pass the forward hatch, and am hidden from the quarterdeck by the lower belly of the fore-and-aft-rigged staysail, a figure appears by my side.

  It is, I am very glad to see, my dear, dear Higgins.

  "Well met, Miss," he says. He carries a package under his arm.

  "Well met, indeed, Higgins. It is so good to see you."

  "We must keep this short. I have here your serving outfit and several changes of linen..."

  I almost choke with joy.