by L. A. Meyer
We nod and solemnly consider this bit of naval lore.
"But what if he just cuts the earring out of your ear and leaves your corpse for the crabs?" says the ever doubtful me.
"He wouldn't. 'Cause the curse would be on him then, and he knows it," says Davy. "No, he'd do the job. No mistake."
The force of Davy's reason carries the day and the Brotherhood resolves to get earrings.
What's next, I think, a bone in my nose?
The boys have gone to the bowsprit netting again and I plead my wounds as an excuse not to get naked with the rest of them. I go over to the port rail in the waist of the ship out of sight of the lads but not out of hearing, and I can hear them hooting and shouting, and I swear I can hear their voices changing before my very ears. Willy's voice has already changed over, and he sounds like a bull roaring over the squeaks of Davy and Tink, but Jaimy's voice is cracking, sometimes low and sometimes high, and I love to hear it. I know that my voice won't change.
It won't be long now, girl.
My hair, too, is growing out as the Captain ordered and soon it'll be long enough for a pigtail and that ain't helping The Deception none, neither. I can see now by looking sideways my hair hanging by my face and blowing in the breeze. It's a sandy color, not blond, not brown, just like my mum's hair what hung about her face as she leaned over me at night. Same as her hair hung over the edge of that cart on That Dark ... No. I've got to let her go, too.
I'm looking out over the calm Caribbean and thinking of the pirates we ain't caught and how it's wearing on the crew who are my dearest friends on the whole, but who are, at the same time, a gang of bloody-minded cutthroats who lust for action and plunder. Who's the pirate and who's the King's man when it comes right down to it? And who am I to blame them? Liam with six kids to support on a rocky scrap of a farm that he don't want to lose even though it's worthless. And Sanderson and Snag and the rest of them? One good prize and they could buy a tavern or a boardinghouse or a chandlery and live snug the rest of their lives. The officers want to buy fine houses and buy their wives a way into a society above what they got now, and why should I say no. Everybody wants something. I ain't no different. I want my own little cargo ship. Just a little one.
I lean over and put my forearms on the rail and my chin on my hands as I gaze out to sea. My ankles are crossed and I idly wave my tail back and forth in rhythm to the roll of the ship.
Sometimes I am so stupid I cannot believe it.
He comes up behind me and rams himself up against me back. He puts his arms over mine so's I can't escape and he grinds against me.
"Please, Sir," I plead. "Please..."
"Now, now, Jacky," whispers Sloat, all soft. His mouth is right on my ear. "I'm just seeing ow my little Jack the Sailor Boy is doin' after 'is 'orrible beatin'. Was it so bad, Jacky, was it so bad? Tell yer dear old uncle now."
His voice has a singsong to it, and he keeps rubbin' against me and I'm strugglin' to get loose, but it ain't no use, he's got me pinned. I don't want to cry out 'cause that'll be trouble, but I gots to...
I feels the roughness of his beard against me cheek and me skin crawls and I'm sick to me stomach and he says, "Soon, Jacky, soon ... for our little talk belowdecks, soon..."
He draws out the words as if he's talkin' to an animal he's tryin' to calm. "Soon—"
All of a sudden he lets me go, and I turns around to see Liam lookin' at Sloat wi' pure murder in his eye. He's got one hand on Sloat's shoulder and the other all balled up and cocked to slam into his face.
"Touch any o' the boys again and I'll kill you where you stand," says Liam. Not loud, not showy, just real even and slow.
Sloat knocks Liam's hand off and steps back a pace, but he is not cowed. Other men are gatherin' about.
"Well, if it ain't Father Delaney, the Patron Saint of All the Micks," sneers Sloat. Some of the men laugh. Some don't.
"Mark me, Sloat. Touch any of the boys again and I'll kill you."
"Tell me, Father," says Sloat, "might ye be savin' a bit of this fer yerself?" I slinks back into the shadows.
Liam lunges forward but is held back by his mates.
"Awful friendly wi' our little jacky sailor boy, ain't-cha, Father McSwine," taunts Sloat with a leer. "Teachin' 'im all manner o' sailor stuff, I'll wager. Showin' 'im stuff, too, I imagine. I imagine all sorts of things. My, my."
Liam looks pure murder, but Sloat looks him right back and he ain't banterin' now and he says, "You son of a bitch, Delaney. You son of a bitch."
Sloat's toadies haul him away, and Liam's friends do the same to him, but the damage is done. The two are separated but the whole ship knows that words have been said and they cannot go unanswered. I just hope they get over it or settle it off the ship, cause I couldn't bear to see Liam lashed to the grating and whipped for fighting, but I know they won't, it's just more bad blood.
The ship is awash in bad blood. The ship don't feel lucky no more. Instead of dolphins following the ship, we got sharks, big black brutes what never go away.
Bad blood.
And it all seems wrapped up in me.
Chapter 24
Jaimy's been acting right funny lately. Like, if all of us are in the top and some leave so that it's just Jaimy and me up there, he'll swing over the side and leave. And he's taken to hangin' around with Willy and not me. If I come up and say something, he'll just grunt and walk away.
In our hammock at night I've got to be real careful to stay over to my side and touch Jaimy as little as possible. Our hips and legs got to touch, of course, no way around it, it bein' a hammock and all, and our feet are up in each other's face, but that's it 'cause of the way Jaimy's been. I mean we didn't do nothin' but lie there and sleep before, but now he lies there all unnatural stiff and don't say nothin'.
Tonight when I talk about my dream of a little ship and say, "Wouldn't it be grand to have a little seaside cottage to come back to and dry out between the voyages and the adventures and the cottage would have a big fireplace and roses and things," he don't say nothing, doesn't even snort at my silly dreams, just lies there all silent and I know he's awake and it hurts me.
When we're awakened for the midwatch, he don't say nothin' to me. When we're on watch he don't come talk to me like he used to.
When the watch is over, I don't go back to the hammock. I find a blanket and curl up in the old kip between the guns. I don't sleep.
Maybe it's because I'm a proven murderer, thief, liar, and mutineer. But I was all those things before. It's been this way ever since that thing with Sloat. Why should that matter? I didn't do nothing wrong. Why does Jaimy hate me now? What did I do?
I think about how happy I was when we was first put in the same hammock all those weeks ago. Thinking on it now just brings me sadness.
Things ain't no better in the foretop. The boys have been quiet and sullen and castin' side glances at me. The Sloat thing and the Bliffil thing is weighing heavy on the ship and it seems to be weighing heavy on the Brotherhood, too.
Finally Davy gets up and points at me and says what's been on his mind.
"If you weren't forever prancin' about and wigglin' yer ass the way you do, maybe stuff like this wouldn't happen. All this bad blood and bad luck is on account of you."
I feel like I've been punched in the gut. This can't be happening. This has got to be just some more Jacky and Davy bickerin'. But no ... I look at the others. They look away. They don't say nothing. I look at Jaimy and say, "Jaimy...," and plead with my eyes, but he don't say nothin'. Jaimy shakes his head and looks down at his feet.
I jump up and grab the shroud and take a last look at them standin' there all quiet. Then I go over the edge and slide down to the deck. As I leave the Brotherhood, I hear a mutter.
"The little fairy..."
I go down and get my gear from where it's stored, rolled up beside our ... his hammock. I go back up on deck and look about. After a bit of thinking, I head for the mizzenmast, which is the most aft mast on the s
hip, and climb up into the mizzen top. Later on I'll stow my gear down in my hidey-hole and I'll probably sleep in the rope locker on the port side, well away from ... them.
I survey my new home. I have a good view of the ship from here and I can't see the foretop, which is good 'cause I don't want to see the foretop or anything on it. The quarterdeck with the watch and all the officers is right below, so it ain't a very popular spot on the ship, but it's fine with me. I'll lead my solitary life up here and get ready for my departure. I resolve to make a seabag for my things as I will have need of it soon. I might think about making a dress.
He's just a boy. I thought he was something more, but he's not. He's just a boy. Everthing else was just something I'd made up in my mind.
This is a good thing that has happened. Events have been spinning out of my control. It's time to get things in order. Time to get on with my life. I must make plans.
I must go down and get some canvas for my seabag. That's the thing to do now.
Chapter 25
I do my duties and stand my watches.
In my off time I sew and play my whistle in the mizzen top. I eat by myself. At night I sleep in the rope locker. I don't need to be awakened for my watches, as I can tell from the bells when it's time to get up. I don't bother anyone. I set up the classroom and I help with the teaching, but I don't joke and I don't laugh. I stay out of Bliffil's way and I'm done with Jenkins. Davy says, "I'm sorry, Jacky. Come on back to the top," but I shake my head and say "No, it's different now, it ain't the same," and they know it's true. Jaimy don't even look at me.
Mr. Tilden gives us the words for today, but I don't remember what they are and I don't care.
One thing that grieves me, though, is that I've got to stay away from Liam 'cause it ain't good for him to be seen with the little fairy, and so I miss the comfort of being with him and I ain't picking up any new tunes, but that's all right 'cause there ain't much singing and dancing going on now, anyway. The ship feels wrong ... what with Bliffil and Jenkins, Sloat and Liam, and me in the middle of all of it. But I'll be off soon, anyway, and maybe their luck will come back.
I guess the old superstition about girls on board being bad luck wasn't too far from the truth.
All that is not my concern now. My plans are in order. One day out from Jamaica I will inform Mr. Tilden of my gender and he will tell the First Mate and he will tell the Captain. I will be confined and hopefully not beaten and put off the next day. I hope they will give me a little of my pay so I will have a bit of a start and not have to beg right off.
I am settled in my mind. I am content.
I'm coming from the Doctor's, where Tilly has sent me to get some books, and I see Davy come rolling in the after hatch and I see Bliffil sitting there all bloated up with drink and I see him trip Davy and then get up all smiling, saying, "Another little snot in need of a lesson," and he rears back and kicks him and Oh no, not again.
Just then I sees Jaimy comin' across the room with blood in his eye and I drops the books and lunges forward and tackles Jaimy about the knees and holds on for his dear life and hisses at him, "Jaimy, no! If you touch him they'll hang you!" And I won't let go of him even though he's strugglin' and beatin' at me shoulders. Bliffil takes another kick and then...
"That's enough, Bliffil."
We look up from the floor and it's Mr. Jenkins standing there. Glory be.
He goes at Bliffil, head down and fists a'flailin'.
I lets go of Jaimy and we both circle around and drag Davy out by his ankles. It ain't the place of ship's boys to hang around and watch officers fight, but we don't miss much of the battle.
When Bliffil gets over his initial shock, he throws Jenkins up against the wall and goes to punch him, but Jenkins moves his head and Bliffil misses and hits the wall and howls with the pain. Jenkins gets behind him and puts on the Jaws o' Death, and Bliffil lunges around the room, his eyes bugging out and his face turnin' red. Bliffil loses his footing and falls against the table, smashing his nose, and the claret flows but he manages to shake Jenkins off and get one good kick in, and Jenkins is doubled over and down and I know it's over when Bliffil gets on top of him, and I say, "Jaimy, go get Mr. Jenkins's men and I'll get Mr. Lawrence," and I runs out and gets up in front of the Second Mate and points to the midshipmen's berth and make mumblin' sounds, and he says, "What the hell are you on about, Faber?" I keeps pointin' and he goes over and sees what's up and he stops the fight. Mr. Jenkins's men go in and pick him up and take him out.
Bliffil gets to his feet and his nose ain't so pretty and noble no more. It's smashed over to the side and looks likely to stay there. When he opens his eyes and looks out, I make sure the first thing he sees is me lookin' at him. Then I leaves.
Mr. Jenkins's men have got him propped up against their gun, mopping at his face, and I can see he ain't hurt too bad. They're patting him on the back and grinnin' and sayin', "Good show, Sir," and he's tryin' to smile.
I go up and say, "You did it, Sir. I'm so proud of you," but when the boys come up to say, "Well done, Sir," and Davy says his thanks for the rescue, I leave and go back to the mizzen top.
***
I've got the canvas for my seabag and I start by cutting a round piece for the bottom. Then the big piece sits on that and I sew it up around the bottom and up the side. I flip the top edge over about an inch and put a seam along the bottom edge of that so it'll hold the drawstring. I work the string through it and turn the whole thing inside out so the neat seams are on the outside, and it's done. It looks right fine, I says to myself.
Tomorrow I'll stitch my name on the side: J. M. FABER. It's getting too dark to do it now, and the seas are really working up and the after top is drawing quite an arc in the air, back and forth.
Right now I'll occupy myself with planning my future.
I've definitely decided on Kingston, Jamaica, as the best I can do—they speak English there, or sort of, and if I make a few shillings I can book passage for the States, where I'm more likely to find a living. As for that, I don't think my sewing's really good enough to get me a job doing it. I mean, most girls have been doing it all their lives. And very little else.
I maybe could play the pennywhistle and sing on street corners for a few pennies if it's allowed. Maybe dance, too. Prolly end up in jail as I don't know what's allowed and what's not in Kingston. I shall have to get next to some of the Jamaican hands at breakfast in the morning. There are two of them, I believe. Since it'll be broad daylight I don't think they'll be tainted by talking to the little fairy and maybe I'll get some useful information.
Before I go to the singing and dancing, though, I think I'll try knocking on the doors of some of the better people in the town and see if their children are in need of a reading tutor. That might be a bit more respectable. A dress would be a help there. I must get on it. The best families would probably balk at a girl dressed up as a sailor boy—not a good example to their little darlings. Best not to worry, though, just deal with what comes up.
I pull out my whistle and play very softly till it's time to go down to the rope locker to sleep.
Chapter 26
I'm in my new kip in the rope locker, at least for part of the night since I've got the Four-to-Eight in the morning. I'll get myself off to sleep, I says to myself, with more planning for my new and exciting future.
Maybe I wouldn't have to do the singing and playing in the street, after all. Not that I'd mind doing it in the street, but I don't want to end up in jail, either. Maybe I could make a deal with a tavern owner to set up in a corner of his place, playing for the sailors when they come in on shore leave. I'd give the owner part of what I brought in and maybe he'd give me a place to stay. A little room of my own, and I'd help clean up, too. I ain't proud. I'll turn these hands to labor, I will. Maybe that would be best. The music would surely be more fun than the tutoring.
This rope ain't the softest stuff, I think as I squirm around, trying to find some comfort.
If
I'm going to do the music, I'd probably best settle on what tunes I'd do right now and practice up on them. The usual jigs and reels and dancing ones, of course, but what would really make it good would be some funny songs. Get 'em laughing and they'd be more likely to part with their coin. I'm slippin', slippin' down into sleep, and from up out of nowhere comes something to my mind from long ago, from long, long ago. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray—
His hand is over me mouth and it's so big he has me whole jaw and me nose in it and I can't breathe and he's all on me and I can't move and...
"Time for our little talk now, Jacky," Sloat whispers in me ear. I can smell the sweat on him and the rum and I can taste the dirt in his hand and I tries to wriggle and squeal, but he's on me so that I can't, I can't get away.
"Oh, little Jacky, you're going to like this, you'll see. I knows you was sleepin' down here so I'd come and find ye. Wasn't ye, Jacky? You'll be back every day for more and more, I know you will, and you'll love yer uncle Bill more and more every day. Oh yes, you will."
His beard is on me face and neck and then he's kissin' me and with his other hand he's pullin' down me pants and the drawstring breaks and then his hand is on me. Oh, God.
He stops moving all of a sudden. His head jerks up and he looks in me eyes.
"Well, well, what have we here? Not a little rooster, but a little hen, my, my ... Well, well, even better." He chuckles deep in his throat and puts his head back down on mine. "Got a little henhouse there, Jacky? A cuckoo's nest? Such fun," he says low and thick, pantin' the rum hard in me face.
