Under the Jolly Roger

by L. A. Meyer

  "Musha ringum duram da,

  WHACK! for the laddie-o,

  WHACK! for the laddie-o,

  There's whisky in the jar!"

  And this time the windows shake and threaten to shatter with the raw power of our voices raised together in song and good fellowship. Through the cheers and hoorays and applause I go to the center of the room and call out, "Now give me room as I means to dance!"

  Chapter 30

  "Would you like a cold compress for your forehead, Miss?" says Higgins the next morning. I crack open an eyelid and I think I catch a note of primness in his voice.

  "Whatever gave you that idea? I've never had a headache in my life, 'cept once, and I didn't drink any spirits last night," I say, turning over and groaning. "But put it on anyway." I lie back on my pillow and I must admit the cool, wet cloth feels good.

  "I didn't do anything wrong. We ate, we drank, we sang, we danced. And we all got back here by midnight. What's the matter with that?"

  "You got back here before midnight because you were all thrown out at eleven thirty."

  "That landlady was damned ungrateful, if you ask me, for all the fine custom we brought her."

  Higgins doesn't say anything for a while and then he says, "After you've had some breakfast, you might speak with Captain Delaney."

  "Did it ever occur to any of you that sometimes I just want to act like a frisky young girl? Just sometimes?"

  What next?

  ***

  I go out on the quarterdeck and Liam is standing there all massive against the morning sky. I walk up beside him but he doesn't say anything.

  Hmmm. I don't say anything, either.

  He turns and goes to the other rail.

  "All right, Liam, what's the matter?"

  "Nothing is the matter. It is your ship. You act the way you want to act."

  Ah.

  "Out with it, Liam. I will have nothing between us."

  He takes a breath and says, "Padraic is just a boy, but he is a fine boy. He sees you as the very picture of action and adventure. That is all right. But I do not want you to toy with his affections if you have no thought to carry on with such an alliance."

  Oh, Lord. Time for the knees. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. The knees hit the deck and the hands come up under the chin in a prayerful attitude. "I'm so sorry, Father, and I won't do it again. It's just 'cause I'm young and wasn't brought up proper. Didn't get the proper guidance, like. And I really do like Padraic, he's a fine lad, it's just that I've decided to live single..."

  "Aye. I've heard you say that before. Now stand up, you young fool," he says and pulls me to my feet, but now he is trying to keep from grinning. I am forgiven. Again.

  This evening I will go out again, for it wouldn't be seemly for me to socialize with one-half of my crew and not the other, but I vow to be more restrained this time. I'll take my fiddle and play more tunes—more dignified-like, with not so much wild dancing as last night. And I'll dance only on the floor, not on the tabletop.

  Was I too familiar with Padraic last night? I heave a heavy sigh. I'm afraid I was and now I'm going to have to frost him out for a while to show he has no chance with me in the way of love, as I do intend to live single all of my life. But did I really sit in his lap last night? Oh, my.

  Ah, well, tonight I shall be good. Liam will be my escort and that will make me be good.

  But it didn't work out quite that way ... it never does, and it is a bleary-eyed gang of Emeralds, myself included, who set sail on the next morning's tide.

  Chapter 31

  The two-masted schooner tried to slip out of a little harbor just north of Calais at dusk. He managed to slip through the blockade, but he didn't slip through us. We came in behind him and cut him off from the land, and he started to make a run to the west. We heeled over and the chase was on. It had been three weeks since we had shipped out of Harwich and we were hungry.

  Liam and I each have our eyes pressed to our long glasses, our usual posture when a prize is in sight. The ship seems low in the water, like maybe he's carrying a good, heavy cargo.

  "Looks like a choice one, Liam," I say. I make no effort to keep the greed out of my voice. I'm hoping we can catch this smuggler, as the men are getting restless—I mean, the food is good, better than on any warship or merchant that I know, and we have music and dancing and stuff, but I know the men want plunder, money for their pockets and for their families—this being the first real chance of a capture since we left Harwich, as ships like that one are growing ever more wary of rascals like us.

  "Aye," he replies, "but he's got a bit of a start on us. Let's hope we can catch him before dark." We both look up at the fast-darkening sky. Then he calls out the order to get up all the canvas the Emerald can carry, and we try to close the distance.

  Half an hour later it is plain that we ain't gonna catch him before dark, and I don't see any moon rising, either. Damn!

  Ten minutes more and it's full dark and we're still way out of cannon range. Lights are beginning to be seen on the ship up ahead and his stern lantern is lit.

  Liam leaves my side and goes to the foot of the mainmast and addresses the crew in a strong voice, but not one so loud as to carry across the water to the quarry.

  "Men. Listen to me and listen to what I say. I want complete silence on this ship as of right now—no bells rung, no talking, no sneezing, no belching, no farting, no coughing, no stomping around, no footfall, no sound at all. If any of you are wearing shoes, take them off. If you see a block knocking against a railing, then wrap it in canvas to muffle it. If you hear a gun carriage squeaking, then grease it. Anything you see that you can do to lessen the noise of this ship, then do it."

  He pauses and then continues, "Furthermore, I want no light to be seen on us—no lanterns, lamps, not even flint sparks to light your pipes. Knock your pipes out now and careful you don't burn down the ship in doing it."

  Damn right be careful, I'm thinking, and mind you don't mar my polished rail when you tap out your nasty pipes.

  Liam ain't done yet, though, and he goes on. "I hope you understand what I say, for if any man causes us to lose this prize, he will be sent back to Waterford and never again sail on this ship. Understood? Good. Now get to it, lads."

  Hatches are closed so the cooking fires down below can't be seen, and I can see the coals falling from pipes into the water alongside. The ship goes dark and quiet. Liam comes back next to me. It is pitch-dark now and on the other ship, all the lights are winking out, too.

  All except the stern lantern.

  "Is he stupid, Liam?" I whisper. Could the Captain of that ship have forgotten about that light hanging off his tail? Could it be that he cannot see it from where he stands?

  I hear a very low chuckle from Liam. "No, he is not stupid," he whispers, "but he thinks we might be."

  I am mystified but Liam will only say, "Just wait, Jacky, just wait and watch." And so we watch the light bobbing up ahead, growing ever closer and closer.

  "I think he'll do it very soon," whispers Liam in my ear. We have been watching the light for such a long time that it becomes weird—like it's not a ship's stern light at all but rather is a low star rolling about in the inky darkness. I shake my head to clear it of such thoughts.

  I shake my head again, 'cause it seems to me that the light has shifted a bit to the right. What...

  "Ah," says Liam, "'tis time."

  Suddenly the ship ahead is veering hard to the right and...

  "Left your rudder," says Liam, very quietly to the helmsman.

  "Left?" I say, pointing out at the prize turning to starboard right before my very eyes. "He's going ri—"

  Liam's hand comes over my mouth and he leans down and hisses, "The silence goes for you, too, Missy. Now look."

  He takes his rough hand from my mouth and hands me my long glass. "Keep an eye on your prize. I must go have the sails trimmed for our new course. Quiet, now."

  Right, I growl to myself, fuming.
I'll watch our prize all right. I'll watch it get clean away.

  The light is now abaft our starboard beam, which means that's as close as we'll ever get to this prize, dammit, and I bring up my long glass and focus it on the light. It is fuzzy for a bit, but I turn the end piece and it comes in sharp and clear and ... oh, my...

  I put down the glass. Scammed again. My prize turns out to be a small rowboat with a lit lantern sitting jauntily on the middle seat.

  Liam comes back onto the quarterdeck.

  "I'm sorry I doubted you, Father. I am a perfect fool."

  "Nay, Jacky," he whispers back, "you are not. That trick is an old one, but it is a good one. It's one that has fooled many captains more experienced than you in the past and it will fool many more in the future. Come, let us go below where we can have a glass of port and talk. It's going to be a long night."

  We have our glass of the thick, sweet port wine in Reilly's cabin, it having no windows, which allows us to light a candle. Men have been put in the rigging to listen for the other ship, some of them with speaking trumpets with the mouthpieces held to their ears rather than to their mouths. All I can hear right now is the sea rushing alongside a scant four inches away on the other side of the hull. Reilly's room is at the waterline.

  "My guess is that he will do what I would do in his case—hold on a westerly track for about an hour, then turn north again to the original course. I figure we've got about one chance in four of seeing him come dawn."

  "Maybe his men are not as disciplined as ours," says Reilly, his face swimming out of the darkness into the circle of candlelight. "Maybe we'll hear them in the night."

  I take a sip and say, "Well, at least we have a chance at him. If it had been up to me, we'd have taken a fine rowboat as a prize, and, split thirty-eight ways, we'd each have a fine splinter onto which we could carve an account of our glorious exploit for grandchildren to admire."

  Low laughter all around. I do not mind a joke at my expense, 'specially when I'm the one doing the joking.

  There is a scratching at the door and Reilly says, "In."

  The door opens and Dennis Muldoon sticks his big head into the circle of light. "We heard a cough or two off the starboard bow and we thinks it weren't from no mermaid sittin' on her rock, as those darlins' ain't prone to colds from the damp as we poor mortals are."

  "How far off?" asks Liam.

  "About two or three hundred yards. And them coughs had a definite Frenchy accent," says the grinning fool. "Through the nose, like."

  "All right, Muldoon, get yourself back out there and be quiet about it. Let us know if you hear any more. Try to judge the distance on any other sounds, as we don't want to get too close to him in the dark. I'll be back on deck in five minutes."

  We divide up the night watches between us—Liam now, Reilly for the Mid, and me for the Four to Eight. We knock back our glasses and get up to leave.

  "Looks like the odds just got better, Captain," I say.

  "We'll see, Jacky. A prize ain't a prize till it's in your fist."

  I go back to my cabin, fumbling in the dark, and flop down on my bed in my fighting clothes, 'cause no telling what's gonna happen. I don't think I'll sleep with all the excitement of the chase, but I do, and sometime before the Four to Eight, Higgins comes in and throws a blanket over me.

  I'm on watch at dawn, and sure enough, there is our prize, sitting out there to the north. Liam comes up from down below, sipping a cup of coffee.

  "The luck of the Irish," I say by way of greeting.

  Liam smiles and stretches. "Aye," he says. "The luck was with us. There's no getting away from us now, and there's no more reason for silence." He takes a deep breath. "CLEAR FOR ACTION!" he bellows, but the men are already scampering to their stations.

  Higgins comes up, bringing me a cup of coffee and some cake. I eat it gratefully, and it helps ease the tension of the night—all those hours spent listening at the darkness till, finally, the growing light of dawn revealed the outlines of the schooner. She is putting on all the sail she can, but she is doing it in vain—she can't get away from us now.

  Higgins brings up my pistols, newly charged with fresh loads, and he straps my sword harness around my waist. "I suppose begging you to exercise caution would be a waste of my breath?"

  "I am always the soul of caution, Higgins. Wherever did you get the idea that I am not? And besides, what would you have me do? Hide down below? Stay in port? What kind of example would that be to my merry band of brigands?"

  "Hmmm," he says, "I had expected a response such as that. But do be careful, Miss, as there are many here who both love you and fear for your safety, and question your evident lack of a sense of self-preservation." Saying that, he takes his tray and goes below to take his station in the surgery.

  Come on, Higgins. If you, yourself, had any sense of self-preservation, you sure wouldn't have teamed up with the likes of me, that's for certain. I've the sense that Higgins has a little bit more of a taste for the life of adventure than he lets on.

  First Mate Reilly comes up and reports that the ship is manned and ready.

  "Then let's have Long Tom send him a good-morning salute, John," I say, and raise my voice so the men at the forward gun can hear, "Sullivan! Fire one off to his side!"

  There is a pause of a moment and the long nine-pounder barks out its greeting. The ball hits to the left of the schooner, abaft her beam.

  "Well, we are within range," I say, and that fact is brought back to us when there is a puff of smoke from the stern of the prize. The ball whistles through our rigging, but hits nothing.

  "Seems he's gonna put up a fight, Liam," I say, my knees starting to tremble a bit, like they always do when someone is shooting at me. Now they're shooting at my beautiful ship, too, and I've got that to worry about as well.

  "Right," says Liam, squinting at the ship through his glass. "And it looks like he might have something serious mounted amidships. At our speed now I don't think he'll be able to bear on us again with the stern gun. He's lost the angle on that one."

  We continue to gain on him and I call out to the starboard guns, "Chock 'em up as high as you can so you hit only the rigging! Don't hurt the hull! Sully, you may fire as they bear! Let's show him what an Emerald rolling broadside feels like! Boarding Party to the starboard rail! Crouch down out of sight!"

  They do it and there is a crack! as that serious gun on the prize fires.

  The ball hits the bowsprit of the Emerald, smashing part of her walkway and cutting loose both her jib and forestaysail. They flap wildly in the wind, but nothing can be done now, not in the heat of this encounter.

  "Musket men!" I yell to the men standing in the foretop. "Pepper the ones around that cannon as soon as you can see them!" Muskets are lifted to shoulders. Soon I hear the flash and pop! of the rifles. That oughta worry 'em.... Hurt my Emerald will you?

  We're almost broadside to him now and we could smash him to bits and put him down under the sea, but we don't want to do that, no we don't.

  I put my hands on the shoulders of Ian and Denny as they crouch there behind the rail, cutlasses in hand. "Steady, boys, steady..."

  There is a tremendous flash and boom! followed instantly by a crack! as the prize again fires his amidships cannon and the ball strikes a spar right behind me.

  "Ow!" I cry as somebody slaps me on my butt, prolly that cheeky McBride, but I don't pay it any mind for it's time for me to shout, "Let's get him, lads! Get the hooks on him!" I draw my sword.

  We get closer yet and Sully fires another of our guns, and the top gaff of the Frenchy's foresail shatters in a shower of splinters and the Captain gives it up. He goes back and pulls down his flag. About damn time, I'm thinking.

  "Cease firing!" I bellow.

  The ships are pulled together and over the rail we go. The Captain is on his gun deck—he's holding his flag and his sword. He looks at me with shock and, suddenly, real fear. La Belle Fille sans Merci...

  "Padraic. Arthur. Se
e what she's got," I say, and they plunge down into the hold.

  I bow to the Captain—I think a curtsy would be a bit out of place here—and recite, in French, the little speech I had made up for these occasions to try to tone down my growing reputation as a bloodthirsty pirate.

  "I am Jacky La Faber. Perhaps you have heard of me. I am a privateer who takes ships and their cargoes, but I neither harm nor rob the crews or the passengers of the ships I seize, no matter what you may have heard. You and your men will be put in one of your lifeboats and allowed to return to France."

  I thought the "La Faber" was a nice touch.

  He bows back and looks relieved, which is good. He presents his sword to me.

  "Non. Please keep your sword. You led us on a merry chase and you fought gallantly."

  Several more bows and back to business. The lads have come back on deck and Arthur McBride crows, "It's full of champagne! Enough for a hundred English New Years, or ten Irish ones! And we found this, too."

  They have between them a well-dressed man of about fifty years, who don't look happy, no not at all. More spies? I would have thought they'd have learned their lesson by now. Well, must do my patriotic duty.

  "Shake him down and see if he's got anything suspicious on him. I..."

  There is a footfall as someone jumps down on the deck behind me, and I hear John Reilly cry out, "Jesus!"

  I turn to see what the matter is and notice in passing that my right pant leg is bright red and my right boot is filling up with blood. How strange...

  "Higgins! Come attend to your mistress! She's hurt!" Reilly roars out, and he scoops me up and jumps back over to the Emerald.

  Higgins appears from the hatchway to the hold, takes one look at Reilly and his burden, and says, "Take her to her cabin. Put her on the table. I must get the bag." With that he ducks back down below.