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

  Ruger looks confused and not at all happy to see me with bow and arrow in hand, but the other officers know my intent.

  "All right," I say, when I'm settled on the middle seat. "Let out the slack. Keep doing it till you see me hit their mainsail." The line tied to the bow of the boat is loosened and my fireboat begins to drift back in the wake of the Lorelei Lee.

  Ravi sits in the stern, scared but ready to prepare the arrows when I call for them. I keep the bow hidden down under the gunwales so the enemy will not see what I plan.

  We draw closer, and I know we are spotted, as I can see the reflections of lenses pointed at us. Perhaps they will think me an emissary sent to parley ... or perhaps sent to offer a surrender to their tender mercies, for which pirates are not well known.

  Think again, Chinaman. We are close enough now...

  "Ravi. Give me one."

  The boy dips the cloth-tipped end of the arrow into the burning pitch and hands it to me. I grab it by its shaft, nock it, pull back, and let it fly. It arcs up and ... misses the sail. It falls onto the deck of the junk and I cannot see what damage it inflicts. Prolly not much.

  Damn!

  "Ravi! Another!"

  He dips and hands me the flaming arrow. I nock and fire...

  Hooray!

  This one hits dead center on their mainsail. That gets their goddamned heathen attention. Immediately there are men in the rigging, with some jabbering away as others carry buckets of water.

  No hoses, you devils? Well, too goddamn bad...

  It does seem that their sails are made out of woven mats of some sort—reeds or grasses or something. Whatever they are made of, my airborne torches fire them up quite nicely.

  "Another, Ravi!" I crow out, triumphant.

  "Good shootings, Missy," he says, handing me another arrow with a flaming end. I take it and let it fly ... and fly it does...

  Another hit! Katy Deere, you should see your Sister now!

  We are a mere fifty feet from the huge junk now. I fire away at will and soon I've got their mid sail in flames and then the after sail, as well.

  Ha! The Lorelei Lee is saved!

  But, as happened many times in the past, my triumph is short-lived. While I have one arrow left, I suddenly find that they have many, many more arrows, as I see a flock of them come winging our way.

  I hold my breath and...

  ...most miss, but one arrow does thud into the seat next to me. Ravi trembles, his black eyes wide with fear and looking to the heavens. He whispers, "Happy puppy, happy puppy," over and over. His back is to the junk, so he cannot see the arrows coming toward us, and perhaps that is best for the little fellow. Happy puppy, happy puppy... Other arrows fall close, but I am a small target and the junk is large.

  I loose my remaining arrow, setting their topsail aflame.

  We have done our job. More arrows fly at us and do us no harm, but I know they will soon get lucky. I lift my arm and signal to the Lorelei Lee to pull us back.

  But she does not pull us back. No, the rope goes slack and the Lorelei Lee gets smaller and smaller on the horizon, while the Chinese junk looms ever and ever bigger.

  Ruger has cut our line! He's running! We have saved the ship, but we ourselves are doomed! The cowardly bastard!

  My heart sinks. We are undone.

  The arrows from the junk stop coming at us—they know we are adrift and helpless now. I put down my bow and wait for capture and certain death. I wrap my arms around Ravi and he continues to murmur his mantra...

  I add mine... Lord, as I am coming to you, please make this hapless girl welcome. I promise to be good ... and yes, happy puppy is good enough for me, too...

  Chapter 56

  A hook is put down into our little rowboat and we are hauled alongside the massive junk. I had not realized the sheer size of the thing before, but I do now. Not that it matters, as I will certainly be dead soon. I know that for sure because all I see about me are furious faces—Chinese faces, with shaved heads and pigtails, looking like demons, all waving curved swords and screaming at me. Can't say as I blame 'em, for I had set their ship on fire. I'd be rather mad, too.

  I know I'm going to die, and I only hope it will be quick. I'm so sorry, Ravi, for getting you into this ... I hope it will be quick for you, too.

  There is a ladderlike thing that is attached to the side of the ship, and men clamber down it and rough hands reach for us and we are dragged onboard. I cannot see what happens to Ravi, but I am put on my knees before ... what...?

  That matters to me less than the fact that someone grabs me by the hair and stretches out my neck and I feel the cool steel of a blade laid upon it. I shiver at the touch.

  This is it. Yes, Lord, I am ready. Goodbye, Jaimy ... I hope...

  The blade is taken from my neck and I know it is being raised high above my head.

  ...I hope you have a lovely life, Jaimy...

  "Cheng Pao! Ting! Zhi!" shouts a woman's voice.

  I sure as hell hope that means "Stop!"

  Apparently it does, as my hair is released and I can lift my still-attached head to gaze stupidly upon the one who gave that order.

  It is a small, very young woman. She is dressed in loose yellow and green pantaloons, shirt, and vest. On her feet, which are very close to my nose, are elegantly brocaded slippers. All of her clothing fairly shimmers with richness, which pales beside her own personal beauty—her rather exotic beauty. Above her dark, almond-shaped eyes, she is half bald, her forehead shaved, leaving her long black hair at the back of her head to be plaited into a long pigtail. The only thing out of place in the little-china-doll image is the hilt of the two-handed broadsword that sticks up over her right shoulder. That and the rather stern look she fixes on my poor quivering self. Can't blame her for that, for I did a lot of damage here. The fires are mainly out, but the smoke still drifts all around us.

  Next to her stands a very large Chinese man in the process of re-sheathing his sword, probably the man who was about to take my head. Men come up to jabber reports to the large man, but from the deference shown to the girl, she is the one most definitely in charge.

  In one fluid motion, she reaches back, grabs the hilt of her sword, whips it out of the sheath strapped to her back, and brings the blade around in a wide arc to rest against the side of my neck.

  I gasp with the sudden swiftness of it all. My poor neck feels very tender and bare next to the steel. Though the touch is light, I can feel that the blade is razor sharp.

  She stares at me down the gleaming shaft of her sword.

  "Suk naai!" she snarls.

  What does she want? How do I handle this? Is it—

  "Cheng Shih wishes to know who you are."

  What? English words? Here?

  It is then that I notice a man standing slightly behind the female creature. He is plainly European and is dressed in the habit of a monk—black cassock with hood laid back from his head, a large golden cross dangling from his neck, and a hempen cord about his waist.

  A Catholic monk on a Chinese junk? What? Is he here to give me last rites? Is that it? My mind, what's left of it, reels ... I grow more and more confused.

  "Cheng what? Who...?"

  "Cheng Shih is the commander of this ship ... and her entire fleet as well," says this monk. "It would be best if you answer her question."

  "My ... my name is Jacky Faber and in England I was born. I am a convict heading for New South Wales. My ship has many such convicts, and we only ask to be left in peace. Where ... where is my little boy?"

  Oh, there you are, Ravi. Newly released by his own captor, Ravi grabs the opportunity to wrap himself around my waist.

  The monk turns to the woman and rattles off a few sentences, which I assume to be Chinese. She grunts and looks me over, touseled head to bare foot. Then she steps back, and with the same fluid motion she had used to draw her sword, she whips it back into her sheath and turns around. Embroidered on the back of her emerald green garment is a large golden drag
on, its mouth open and spitting bright red fire. The Lady of the Dragon issues an order, my arm is taken, and I am dragged off toward a hatch. My fear, which had left me for a moment, comes flooding back.

  "Is she going to have me killed?" I ask of this holy man, who follows close behind us.

  "If she were going to kill you, you would be dead already," he says mildly, as if he would have watched me having my head cut off back there on the deck with a certain calm equanimity. "No, she wants me to find out more about her new captive. You see, she has seen many such as he"—he gestures at the dark and wide-eyed Ravi, and then looks at my sandy blond mop—"but she has never seen anything like you. And I believe she is ... intrigued."

  We are taken below to a small, plain room that contains a low bed, a desk, and several chairs. Since there is a golden crucifix above the bed, it is not hard to figure out that it is the friar's room. The one who had me by the arm—an evil-looking brute stripped to the waist, with long, thin mustaches that hang way down past his chin—tosses me to a chair. Ravi tries to crawl up into my lap, but I tell him that he must sit on the floor beside me. He does.

  The cleric takes a seat behind the little desk. On it is paper, quill pen, and a little jar of ink. He takes up the pen, dips it in the ink, and then looks at me.

  "I am Brother Arcangelo Rossetti, Society of Jesus. Translator and advisor to Cheng Shih. Your name again?"

  "Jacky Faber. Baptized Mary Alsop Faber." Might as well let him know I'm a Christian of sorts. Might help. It doesn't.

  "Hmm. Catholic?

  "Church of England."

  "Ah, a heretic. Age?"

  "Sixteen."

  He writes all this down and then leans back in his chair. "Very well. Now tell me of your life and how you come to be here. Go slowly, as I am Italian and my English is—"

  "We could speak in French, Sir ... or Spanish, if that would be more comfortable for you."

  He cocks an appraising eyebrow. "Spanish, then."

  And so I tell him of my life. I give a concise history, switching from Spanish to French to English when the need arises, and we get along in all three languages. He professes disbelief in a lot of it, but I assure him it is all true, no matter how strange.

  Finally, we end up in the present day.

  "Two hundred and fifty women, all prostitutes?"

  "Most of them. Not worth much, even as slaves," I say, hoping to prevent further pursuit of the Lorelei Lee.

  "Hmmm..." He ponders all I have told him.

  "Perhaps you will now tell me something of her?" I ask.

  He considers, puts his fingertips together, and begins.

  "Cheng Shih is without doubt the most successful pirate in history. She is twenty-three years old. At age sixteen she was a prostitute in one of the floating brothels on the Zhu Jiang—the Pearl River. Already famous for her beauty and cultural accomplishments, she met the pirate Zheng Yi and was married to him at the age of seventeen. Together they amassed a mighty fleet of ships. When Zheng Yi died in a typhoon, they had a total of one hundred ships. She took over the leadership after his death, instituted new rules and regulations, and the fleet now numbers in the hundreds."

  "Hundreds?" I manage to gasp.

  "Yes, and thousands of men."

  "Good Lord. Thousands?"

  "I see you are impressed, seeing as how you, in your own rather colorful life, managed to procure a fleet of ... what...? Two?"

  I nod. "But how did she do that? A common prostitute?"

  "Believe me, she was not a 'common prostitute.' Unlike our own Europeon dens of iniquity, in China, and Japan, as well, girls in that particular profession are trained in art, music, and dance. True, it is still prostitution, but the girls are very refined. I have seen the floating brothels of Guangzhou, and they are quite impressive—a thousand floating lanterns set out upon the water at night, gentle music drifting over all, with the heady smell of jasmine and incense. Actually, very nice ... in a heathen sort of way. They call it the Willow World, a place where the gentle reeds bend easily and with grace."

  Brother Arcangelo looks out over my head in a dreamy sort of way.

  Hmmm, Brother ... Have you been tempted? Have you fallen for the charms of the Orient?

  "But how could she hold something like that together?" asks the ever practical me.

  The priest shakes his head and brings himself away from the floating Willow World and back into this little cabin.

  "Ahem. Well, she has established a system of rules and regulations that endear her to the populace. She does not allow abuse of captives—the penalty for raping a female hostage is death. Any Chinese seaport town that welcomes her troops is treated well. Otherwise, watch out—heads fall and ears are cut off. The captains of her far-flung fleet may plunder Vietnam, Korea, and Japanese ports as they will, but they have to obey the rules and they must pay her tribute. You see how it works? It is actually a well-regulated economy, of sorts—a government in all the usual ways, except that it floats. Additionally, she has married Cheng Pao, the big man you might have noticed before, and he is Zheng Yi's adopted son, further cementing her control on her floating empire. Now, if you will excuse me, I must report to Cheng Shih. There are cups and plum wine on the shelf there. You may refresh yourself. Your throat must be dry after that rather fanciful story you have just told."

  "Wait," I say. "If you have any pity in your heart for this poor heretic, please tell me what the Chinese words are for good day, please, and thank you."

  They are nei ho mah, cheng, and doh je."

  He does not repeat them, but I nod my thanks and run the words over and over again in my head.

  And I do take a taste of the plum wine and give a bit to Ravi, as well. He probably figures there is alcohol in it, but he does not seem to care. I don't blame him—we have both stared Death in the face today, and that grim figure still lurks about, waiting for his chance...

  After a while, Brother Arcangelo returns and beckons for us to rise and to follow him. Which we do.

  I am led into an incredibly sumptuous room that is sure to be the cabin of the pirate queen. Rich silks hang from the walls and there are painted scrolls and strange musical instruments that I would love to get my hands on. There is a bed, of course, with silk drapes that hang all about it, and many plump pillows. Over and over the golden dragon theme is repeated. I am directed to a spot on the floor and made to sit down upon it.

  "Best be prepared to put your forehead to the floor. Cheng Shih is expected momentarily," says the priest. I nod, sit back on my haunches, and wait.

  "Hush, Ravi," I say to the quivering lad, who huddles next to me. I put my arm across his shoulders. "We are still alive, and we should be glad."

  From behind me I hear a rustle and look around to see Cheng Shih emerging through a beaded curtain from yet another room. I put my head to the floor and push Ravi's down as well.

  Cheng Shih and Brother Arcangelo converse for a while, and then he says, "Stand up," and I do it.

  "Nei ho mah, Cheng Shih," I say, respectfully.

  She is surprised, but, I can tell, not overly impressed.

  Cheng Shih brings her face close to mine, her dark brown eyes peering into my light brown ones. Only slightly taller than I, she walks slowly around me, giving me a poke here and there. She runs her fingers through my hair. I'm sure she is checking my roots to see if my hair is dyed. Satisfied that it is not, she speaks again to the monk.

  "She says she does not believe your story. She says you are a liar and she does not like liars."

  Uh-oh ... I can imagine what she does with people she does not like. Think, girl!

  I do think, and I come up with a way to prove at least one thing: that I can dive.

  "Brother, do you have a coin I can borrow? I will demonstrate something."

  His eyebrows go up, but he does produce a silver coin from his purse and hands it to me.

  "Now, if you could ask Cheng Shih to go outside with me."

  She considers and the
n nods and goes out the door, followed by the cleric. When their backs are turned, I quickly dig into my money belt and take out a coin similar to the one given me. I stick Brother Arcangelo's coin in my mouth, tuck it beside my back teeth, and go through the door.

  Back in the daylight, I'm glad to see that the sails are still slacked for repairs and we are dead in the water. Spotting a likely opening in the port side rail, I go for it. The others follow close beside me. I look down at the waves and begin disrobing.

  I pull off my shirt in one swift movement, step out of my trousers, drop drawers, and stand naked on the deck.

  The Chinese are not immune to gasping, I notice.

  The coin, which I had held clenched in my fist, I hand to Cheng Shih, who appears slightly astounded. Putting my toes on the edge of the deck, I say, "Cheng Shih .. ." and gesture for her to toss the coin in the sea.

  She looks me over one more time and then flings it over the side. I take a deep breath, wait a moment to let the coin sink a bit, and then dive in after it.

  I hit cleanly, hoping I am graceful, and then kick down to a depth of about twelve feet. I have no intention of chasing that coin—Neptune, if you are down there watching this little drama, you are welcome to it—no, I plan one of my usual tricks, similar to the one I pulled on the crew of the Excaliber that time back in good old Boston.

  The hull of the junk looms beside me. Diving down a little farther, I turn and swim under her—the draft is only about fifteen feet, and the beam of the craft is a mere thirty feet or so. The ship is very long but not so very wide and I am able to slip under her easily.

  Coming up on the other side, I surface quietly and put my hand on the ladderlike grating that I had noticed when we were first brought aboard. I rest for a bit, and then wait a little bit longer, to make certain that all on the ship think me drowned for sure.

  Reaching into my mouth, I pull out Brother Arcangelo's coin and clamp it between my lips. Then I climb up and, hooking a leg over the rail, gain the deck.

  All the others are at the other rail, gazing down at the water.

  I pad as quietly as I can across the deck and stand behind them.