by L. A. Meyer
"I will, Jacky. I will."
* * *
Boston
My sea chest has been taken ashore. It will only be a few minutes now and I wait for my Marine to come fetch me.
I hear from the shouts and bustle and laughter outside that they are going to man the top for me and they'll all be lined up along the spars and in the tops and Jaimy'll be one of the sideboys on the quarterdeck and I'll have to go right by him and the word is that the fightin's started back up with France again and they're leavin' straightaway and they'll be right in the thick of it and oh Lord... And there'll be a coach on the dock and I'll have to get in it and it'll pull away from the dock....
Ah lads, I don' wan' to go.
No. No. Steady on. I've got to put on a good show and not start bawlin' and shame myself 'cause salty sea sailors don't cry and I knows right now from the constrictin' o' me throat that I ain't gonna be able to do it but I got to try.
Jacky. It's time.
Come on, girl. Up the ladder and out now. Head high, flags flyin', that's the way we does it, but I knows it ain't gonna wash 'cause I'm half blubberin' already and I knows that soon's I steps out they'll be hollerin' Hooray, Jacky, and Give 'em Hell, Jackeroe, and yes, Bloody Jack, too, and I'll see Tink and Davy and Willy and Liam, and they'll have to pry me off Jaimy whose face I may never see no more—Dear God, please—and I'll try to be brave but I never was really very brave...
* * *
