The Wake of the Lorelei Lee

by L. A. Meyer

  It doesn’t look like she’ll let me go, Jaimy, but at least you shall be freed and that will give me great joy . . . wherever I might be in this world . . .

  Please be safe . . . Soon, Jaimy, soon . . .

  Chapter 61

  James Fletcher

  Captain of the Wretched Cerberus

  Still Becalmed

  Jacky Faber

  Most probably in New South Wales

  Australia

  Dear Jacky,

  Yes, we are still virtually becalmed, ghosting along on the slightest of breezes, our sails hanging slack. We desperately need fresh water and food, as well as armament. I hate sitting here helpless, knowing that if the Dart shows up again we will be taken, and all that we have fought for will be lost.

  At least I now have paper and pen with which to record my thoughts in case one day you should want to read them.

  The convicts grow more restive by the day. All the trustworthy ones have been released from confinement, for there is much nasty work to be done in caring for the basic needs of said convicts. It might bring a smile to your face to know that we have the Weasel here—yes, old Weisling from the Wolverine—and we put him to the absolutely worst tasks. Serves him right. He was one of our guards before we revolted and escaped our confinement, and he was unspeakably vile in that position, but he is paying for it now.

  At least we have not yet had an outbreak of typhus, thank God, but it is only a matter of time if our condition does not improve. For once, dear one, I do not wish you were here by my side, for if the gaol fever does come, then I would fear for your—

  I must put down my pen for a moment, for Padraic has put in his head to announce that there is a ship out on the horizon, coming toward us. More later . . .

  I must write in great haste now, Jacky, as that ship, a huge Chinese vessel, is bearing down on us fast. They have no more wind than we, but they have put out their long sweeps and are rowing ever closer to us. We have no such oars. I go now to see that the men are armed as well as we can be, for we are sure to be boarded. I am afraid it will be just swords and cutlasses, but we will make a fight of it.

  This might well be my last message to you, Jacky. It is my most fervent hope that you have a long and happy life. Please remember me as one who did love you.

  With Love,

  Jaimy

  Chapter 62

  The Cerberus lies ahead, bobbing in the slick swells, its sails hanging slack. I am crouched by the rail of the Divine Wind, hidden from view of any onboard that ship, as we are rowed ever closer. It has been decided that I will stay hidden in case that miserable Captain Griswold should spot me with his long glass and remember me. I am sure anxious eyes are upon us. I have certainly got my own glass trained on their quarterdeck. I see figures in navy blue jackets moving about, but I cannot yet make out individual faces. I do, however, see the flash of steel in their hands.

  Cheng Shih, every inch a commodore in complete command of her fleet, stands next to me as does Brother Arcangelo. Cheng Pao, looking fierce, stands in front of his horde of howling swordsmen, ready to swarm aboard. It did not take long for the Divine Wind’s small, fast scout ships to find the hapless ship, and now she lies before us, easy prey.

  I put down my long glass to give my eye a rest. I am nervous, of course, and hope that all goes well. I tell myself that Jaimy will be below with the rest of the convicts, so he should be out of danger. I cannot spare too much sympathy for Griswold and his crew, not after the way they treated Jaimy . . . and Mairead . . . and me . . . so, if they suffer, so be it. I am dressed for battle in a very nice bottle-green tunic and matching trousers. All silk, of course, with gold thread, and a golden dragon now adorns my own back . . . and oh, yes, my neck as well . . .

  It was the morning after the switching of my somewhat innocent tail, when, as I was out of the bath and into my robe, Chi-chi came into the bathhouse bearing a tray that held what I saw to be thimble-sized bowls of intense color . . .

  What . . . ?

  . . . and a needle.

  Uh-oh . . .

  He was accompanied by Brother Arcangelo.

  “What’s going on?” I asked of the priest.

  “Cheng Shih has ordered it,” he replied. “Do not worry. It will not hurt much. Chi-chi is quite expert, I am told. Please pull your hair to the side, Signorina, so that he might work.”

  I take my hair and lift it and place it on my shoulder, exposing my neck and . . .

  Yeeouch . . . !

  It is true, Chi-chi is good at his job and it was soon done. With a skillful positioning of two handheld mirrors, I was able to admire his handiwork.

  It is quite handsome—a golden dragon on a field of green with black detailing and some red in the claws and fiery breath. ’Course I thought it might be better presented on a flag or a picture, rather than on my neck, but, hey, so it goes . . . My hair, when let down, will cover it anyway.

  “So that means she owns me, Brother?” I asked, somewhat sullenly.

  “Well, yes, I suppose,” he replied. “But it also means she is extending to you her protection, which, in this part of the world, is no small thing”

  “All right,” said I, twisting my neck and admiring my new tattoo, “then I shall look on it as such”

  My sword is strapped across my shoulders, and I find its presence and the feel of its snug harness reassuring, even though Cheng Shih has forbidden me to go over in the first wave of boarders.

  Cheng Shih is dressed in an identical outfit. She has forgiven me, but she has not mentioned my petiton for release since the day I broached the subject with disastrous consequences for my backside. I don’t mention it again.

  Our rowers are expertly bringing us in on the starboard side of the Cerberus, and I again bring the glass to my eye. Damn. The convict ship’s spanker hangs down on the stern, obscuring the quarterdeck, so I cannot see those upon it. We are very close now, less than twenty yards and closing.

  The Cerberus rolls over a swell and the spanker swings to the port side, exposing those on the quarterdeck. I give it another look and focus on the blue jacket who seems to be in charge.

  Wait a minute . . . That’s not their Captain . . .

  Oh, my God! It’s Jaimy . . . and there’s Ian . . . and the others! They must have mutinied! They’ll be slaughtered!

  I gasp and jump to my feet.

  “Cheng Shih! The command on that ship has changed! I must go over first, alone, or there will be great bloodshed!”

  Brother Arcangelo quickly translates. She looks dubious. The hooks are ready to be thrown.

  “Please trust me! I’ll . . . I’ll stay with you forever, Beloved Shih!”

  She fixes her gaze upon me, then nods curtly. I turn and dart to the head of the boarding party and stand in front of Cheng Pao as the ship’s sides meet.

  I leap over the rail and run up to Jaimy.

  “Oh, Jai—” I begin, overcome with joy at seeing him.

  But he does not see me. Oh, no. What he sees before him on his deck is a pigtailed Chinese pirate in strange garb with a shaved head and a sword on his back.

  “Damn you to hell, you heathen son of a bitch!” he yells, and swings his sword at my neck.

  Without thinking, I reach back with both hands and grasp the hilt of my sword and whip out my blade. I barely get it up in time to stop his deadly swing.

  The swords clang together, hilt to hilt, and I hiss, “Jaimy! It’s me! Jacky!”

  His wild eyes try to focus on mine.

  “What . . . ?” he asks, amazed.

  “Jaimy! Yes, it is me! You’ve got to put down your sword. Come on, Jaimy,” I plead. “You’re stronger than I, and I can’t hold you off much longer!” My arms are beginning to quiver under the strain of keeping his blade from my neck.

  Recognition dawns and I feel the fighting spirit ebbing from him. He realizes that it is, indeed, me.

  “Ah, Jacky, what the hell now.”

  “Sheathe your sword, Jaimy—your l
ife depends on it!” I step back and whip my own sword into its scabbard. In exasperation, he flings his to the deck.

  “All of you! Put your weapons away!” I shout to the others standing about. “There are maybe twenty of you and a thousand of us . . . er . . . them! You have no chance!”

  I feel Cheng Shih come up next to me and stand silently.

  “This is Cheng Shih. She is the commander of these ships and many more. She is not here to take you or to kill you. We have a bargain. You will benefit! Ian! Padraic! Sheathe your swords! Now!”

  Ah, good. They are doing it.

  “Now, bow down low. Be respectful. Easy now.”

  I look over at Arthur McBride. He is not bowing down. No, he is standing there grinning at me as if he were watching some comedy instead of just being delivered from certain death.

  “Arthur! Damn you! Bow down to her!”

  With a smirk, he does it.

  Jaimy steps toward me, and I step back.

  “Don’t come any closer to me, Jaimy,” I say. “Please. I beg you. This is Cheng Shih. She is the Admiral of this fleet. I . . . I am her . . . pet. She is very possessive of me, Jaimy, and she is very dangerous, so be very, very careful.”

  Cheng Shih has come up by my side and is eyeing Jaimy very suspiciously. She knows who he is and what he means to me. Be very careful, Jaimy, she could have her sword out and at your neck before you could even blink.

  Brother Arcangelo is translating all that is said, as well he must. I just hope he’s putting the best gloss he can upon it.

  “You are her ‘pet’?” asks Jaimy, perplexed. “What does that mean?”

  McBride’s grin only gets wider.

  It means I get petted a lot, Jaimy. Now hush!

  “Not now, Jaimy,” is what I say to the confused lad. I generally revel in astounding Jaimy, but not just now. “We have bigger things to discuss. We must have a parley and I think refreshments would be in order.”

  Brother Arcangelo comes up and whispers in my ear and I nod.

  “Captain Fletcher, Admiral Cheng Shih invites you and your officers aboard her ship to talk about our plans. As you are not captives, you may keep your swords,” I say. Fat lot of good they’ll do you should you draw them over there, but nobody knows like the Chinese how face must be saved—even the face of a smelly barbarian. I choose not to inform you that the Chinese do not like being on your ship because it stinks too much.

  “Bring a bottle of Madeira if you have it,” I say, following Cheng Shih back onto her ship. My own nose is offended by the smell of the Cerberus. Hmmm . . . Perhaps I am turning Chinese . . .

  A low table is set on the deck of the Divine Wind, and we array ourselves around it—Cheng Shih on a cushion at the head, with me beside her on the deck, my legs pulled up under me. Jaimy is at the foot of the table, with Arthur McBride and Ian McConnaughey to one side and Padraic Delaney to the other. They sit cross-legged on the deck and I know they are uncomfortable, but so be it . . . and it is so good to see them all!

  Cheng Pao stands to the side, his mighty arms crossed on his chest, making it plain he does not sit at the same table as barbarians.

  A young Irish-looking boy bounds onto the deck of the junk, looking wildly excited—and well you should, lad. You would never find this kind of exotic adventure back in Limerick. He carries stemmed glasses and pours out the wine, placing the first in front of Shih, then one before each of the rest of the company.

  Cheng Shih does not reach for hers and I know why. I reach for it instead, and put it to my lips to sample it. Yummm, it is very good.

  In Europe, this would be a breach of etiquette, but not here. One does not become a pirate queen by allowing herself to be poisoned.

  I offer the glass, proven to be unpoisoned, to our hostess. “Here, Beloved Shih, taste it. It is from the barbarian lands, but it is very good.”

  She smiles and takes the wineglass, looks at its curious—to her—shape, and takes a sip. She smiles and nods, and takes this opportunity to stroke the back of my neck and pull me to her. She puts a light kiss on my forehead. I do not look over at Jaimy.

  Then she says, “Siu.”

  I begin . . .

  I tell the lads of the Golden Buddha, of the bargain I have struck with Cheng Shih, how we will use the Cerberus to sneak up on the Lorelei Lee and take her, then use the diving bell that rests in her bilges to raise the golden statue. The Golden Buddha will bring such great pleasure to Beloved Shih that she will allow all of them to go free and be on their way. I tell them of how we on the Lorelei Lee had been so kindly treated by our dear Captain Laughton and how sad we were at his death. Then I recount the reign of terror that Ruger had instituted after our poor dear Captain had died and he had taken control . . .

  Then, I must tell it. . . . All this time, Ian McConnaughey has been looking at me, imploring me with his eyes . . . Tell me of my Mairead!

  I beckon for him to come up and sit beside me. Shih looks at me with question in her dark eyes, but does not interfere.

  When he settles in, I take his hand and say, “Ian, I must tell you this . . .” and tears come from my eyes, and he looks stricken. “No, no, I am sorry, no . . . Your Mairead is well, but . . .”

  Then I proceed to tell him of Ruger’s vicious attack upon his girl and the loss of her . . . and his . . . baby.

  His face turns ashen, then hardens.

  “Ian, I know,” I whisper. “I know . . .”

  But then Cheng Shih reaches out her hand and says something . . . and Brother Arcangelo Rossetti translates it for her into the English that Ian will understand.

  “Know this, young foreign man, when the time comes, it is you who will kill him. I promise it!”

  Chapter 63

  “How does that feel, Jaimy?” I ask, massaging the muscles of the back of his neck. We are in the washroom of the Divine Wind and Jaimy is in the tub. I kneel by the side if it, having just finished washing and rinsing his hair. When it’s wet, the white streak in his glossy dark mane stands out all the more bright and sharp.

  His lovely eyes are closed. He does not reply, but only gives out a low animal moan of pleasure. I believe that all thoughts of violent mutinies, troublesome Royal Navy escorts, and unruly Irish crew members are erased, for the moment, from his now relaxed and easy mind.

  Cheng Shih has allowed me to do this—under the merry but watchful eyes of her faithful Chi-chi. I’m sure he has been ordered to make certain we don’t end up doing anything too frisky.

  In the days since we took the Cerberus, we have had each of her officers over for a bath, while their uniforms are taken off to be cleaned, as they are rather rank, especially to my newly tuned nose.

  Ah, yes. I am, indeed, becoming Chinese in that way.

  Ian McConnaughey submits to being put in the tub and having his head scrubbed by Chi-chi, Ian’s mind being on other, more vengeful things. However, when Arthur McBride’s turn comes, he demands girls to do the job, and several are found onboard the Divine Wind—in the laundry, the storerooms, the usual places where one finds girls on any ship—and given new duties.

  Grinning broadly, and aided by his new, giggling female attendants, McBride drops clothing and climbs into the tub, lighting his pipe and leaning back in complete piggish male contentment. All the Chinese are very curious about the tobacco he uses, having never seen the vile weed before, and McBride is generous in passing out Captain Griswold’s considerable stash of the stuff. Pipes are loaded, packed, and lit, and soon many of the Chinese who partake of this treat are sick, throwing up over the side. But others continue to smoke the stuff.

  One time I had gone into the washhouse with Chi-chi to carry in more towels and such and I found Arthur within. I have this image, which shall stay with me always, of Arthur McBride in the tub with his two big feet propped over the side, a dreamy expression on his face, two giggling girls on either side soaping him up, and his popping open an eye and saying, “Ah, ’tis our own dear girl, herself, appearin’ out of th
e mist. Come over here, Jacky Faber. Drop yer silken garb and please to slip in here beside me now.”

  I did not accede to the rascal’s request.

  When Jaimy is off the Cerberus, Ian McConnaughey takes command, and I know he is bending on every scrap of canvas possible to get to his Mairead . . . and to Ruger . . . as quickly as he can. The doldrums have lifted and all ships plow along at a nice clip.

  “Chi-chi, the eucalyptus oil, please,” I say, reaching out my hand toward the bottle. He does not have to know the language to catch my meaning, and he places the jar in my hand. Chi-chi, I’m finding, is quite bright, and I’m learning elemental Chinese from him. Surprisingly, he is also literate and can read and write the complex calligraphy of their language. I guess nothing but the best in the way of eunuchs will do for the mighty Cheng Shih.

  Taking the bottle, I pour some of the liquid onto my hand and then apply it to Jaimy’s back. I put down the bottle and begin massaging the oil into his muscles.

  “You like, Mr. Pretty Barbarian Man, Sir?” I croon in a high singsong voice. “You like when Jak-ki cow-child move fingers like this? Or like this? No? Yes? No?”

  He laughs and reaches around and takes me by the wrist.

  “Yes, Jacky, cow-child, I like it very much. Now give your barbarian a kiss.”

  Well, we cannot do that, sweet barbarian . . . Chi-chi would see and report. But we will do this . . .

  I know that I’m risking a switching for this, but I say, “Make room, Jaimy,” and I loosen the ties of my robe, slip it off, and drop it into Chi-chi’s hands. A quick leg over the edge of the tub and I slide my own slippery self in next to Jaimy.